4: Come To My Office

Ivy’s POV

The room felt more comfortable in the morning light. I slowly sat with my eyes half-open, realizing how much of a good sleep this room blessed me with— and that it comes with a price.

So I rubbed my eyes, yawned, then went out of the bed to begin my first day— and it flew quietly. I unfolded my things—a few neatly folded clothes, a toothbrush, some worn books I had carried across more than one move, a picture of me and Noah, and then his favorite toy. I put the books on the window ledge, the frame on the bed on the bedside table, the toy on the zigzag corner wall wooden shelf— at first uncertain whether it was okay for me to do that.

But I shrugged it off. Remembering how he was last night, I assumed Dr. Gabriel— Gabriel wouldn’t mind.

The house was up early, too, though not loudly. It had a rhythm, like a soft song playing beneath everything. The maids were moving quickly but gently, the air smelled of polished wood and fabric softener— far different from the eggs and bacon I was expecting.

That’s what I mostly read on books. Wake up in a huge house and the first thing you’ll smell is the breakfast in the kitchen.

“Ivy!”

A girl’s voice broke the stillness — giggling down the hallway — and soon after, I strode towards her to help her get ready. I brushed her hair, and she talked—like she knew me her whole life. Mostly about the cartoons she loved, which classmate she didn’t want to sit beside anymore, and if I could do a braid like the one in her picture book, and when I finished, she gasped at her own reflection like she had seen a princess.

"Do I look beautiful?" she asked, eyes round and glowing.

"You do," I whispered, smiling as I tucked a loose strand behind her ear. "So, so beautiful."

She grinned, wrapping her arms around my waist without warning. I was frozen for a second, but then I hugged her back, gently, carefully, to not break the moment.

Maybe she was raised this way. Sweet. I should uphold that.

I helped Sophie with her socks and food, before she left with the driver for school. Then I offered to help in the kitchen and around the house.

The maids were kind but hesitant — they told me I was here for Sophie, not the housework — but I couldn’t really just sit around while Sophie was in her class. I knew I needed something to do, something I could focus on. Something that wouldn’t make me feel like I was burning my time.

So I cleaned, polished, helped dry dishes. And by the afternoon, I was back in the kitchen again, slicing herbs with Rita watching over my shoulder, giving me tips with a soft pat on the back.

The whole day went smoother than I ever imagined. I fit in just fine, I familiarized with everyone in the house, got a bit closer to Sophie. It made me feel like breathing was as easy as it used to be which was weird… because a single day had never been this effortless to live.

“You cook now?” A low and deliberate tone made me stop from what I was doing.

I didn’t have to look up to know it was him.

His steps were something I weirdly recognize, it was confident but unhurried. So, I looked over at him, as he entered the kitchen with his coat on, his eyes scanning the area.

I felt suddenly self-conscious, my sleeves still rolled, a streak of flour messing around my wrist.

I wiped my hands with a towel, a bit nervous. “I… was just helping out.”

He didn’t smile. But there was something in the way his gaze lingered. Like he didn’t mind the sight, and I couldn’t really dare look at his eyes… nor his face. I looked away.

Gabriel helped me put the tray in the oven. I was doing the pastry Rita told me to do in her behalf and I wasn’t really that good at it so knowing that he was here, and he knew I helped made me feel nervous to what he might react if he taste it and it turned out… terrible.

I could barely breath. Good thing, the other maids came a few minutes to serve dinner. I used it as a reason to excuse myself.

In the dining table, I tried to slip away to the far end of the table, the way I thought was just right— but Gabriel paused, pulled out the chair beside his, and looked at me.

Then he gave me a nod. A quiet and expectant nod, that for some reason I understood.

I hesitated, but still walked over and sat beside him.

I felt him looked at me as he calmly pouredwater into my glass before his own. “How was your first full day?”

“I— it was good,” I replied, my voice soft. “I was able to quickly adapt.”

“I can see that.”

I glanced toward the kitchen door, where Rita and the others occasionally peeked in. “They’ve been kind.”

He gave the faintest smile — a real one, but fleeting. “They’re good people.”

A moment passed, quiet and warm, before Sophie padded into the dining room, pajamas already on, hair loose around her face. She ran to Gabriel first, resting her head against his side before pulling back to look at me.

“Can Ivy eat with us now?” she asked, as if she hadn’t already seen me at the table.

Gabriel looked down at her. “She already is.”

Sophie smiled wide, then climbed into the seat across from us. We all began to eat, but I couldn’t focus on the food.

Sophie chattered, telling stories from her day. Gabriel listened, responding with a dry comment that made her giggle. I watched the two of them, this soft, private world they shared, and something in me ached — not with envy, but with something quieter.

Then at one point, Sophie pointed her fork at me. “Ivy made the green beans.”

Gabriel looked at me again, fork paused mid-air. “Did she?”

“She did,” Sophie confirmed proudly.

He tasted them. Slowly. Then looked back at me.

“They’re perfect.”

I blinked. What? “Thank you.”

And there it was again — that something in his eyes. But I immediately looked away afraid to decode something I wasn’t sure if real.

“Come to my bedroom after you tuck Sophie to her sleep,” Gabriel spoke once again, the texture of his voice slightly gravelly, but smooth. “I’d like to share something to you.”