There was the faint sound of a sniffle from inside, followed by the creak of the bed. Irene's throat tightened, but she continued. "You carry a child," she said.
"A child that didn't ask for any of this. A child who depends on you to survive. That little heartbeat inside you doesn't care who left. That child is your priority. Your responsibility. Do you understand me?"
There was a long stretch of silence before Ivy's muffled footsteps broke it. The sound of slippers dragging across the carpet, followed by the soft click of the lock.
The door cracked open an inch, and then, slowly, all the way. Irene exhaled a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. Irene quickly bent down, picked up the tray of food, and walked in without waiting for permission.
She placed it gently on the bedside table, careful not to meet Ivy's eyes. Without saying another word, she turned to leave.
"What happened with you two?"
"What?" Irene asked.
