The two-story house in Hudson Yards was vast and vibrant.

There was an elevator connecting both floors, which did not obstruct Wyatt’s wheelchair movements.

Ivy ascended and took a look around the room.

Indeed, everything was exactly as it was when she left. It appeared as though no time had passed since her last visit.

However, those memories only served to make her depressed, dull, and out of breath.

As if a massive rock were pressing down on her chest, crushing her bones and organs.

Ivy used to enjoy sitting on the balcony chair, anticipating the appearance of Wyatt’s car at the gates.

Wyatt, on the other hand, never appeared....