(Ivy's POV)After returning from the church, I changed.I no longer went on hunger strikes, no longer smashed things, and no longer looked at him like he was an enemy.I knew I could never win against him head-on. To escape this hell, I had to make him lower his guard.At dinner, I took the initiative to pick up the spoon.Alexander sat opposite, staring at me intently, as if checking to see if I was playing tricks again.I swallowed a mouthful of soup, looked up, and gave him a weak but docile smile."Alexander, does the wound still hurt?"With just that sentence, the man's defenses completely collapsed.The knife and fork in his hands dropped onto the plate with a crisp clatter."It doesn't hurt... Ivy, are you not angry anymore?" He asked carefully, like a child who had done something wrong.Over the next few days, I began to cooperate with his "performance."He took me to reminisce about the past, and I chatted with him about our first meeting by the sea in Sicily; he read to me, a
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