It was already ten at night when Jamison and Ivy finally left the old estate.

As they drove, Ivy voiced the question that had been weighing on her mind. “Is your grandmother’s illness really that serious? She seemed… a bit strange tonight when she spoke.”

So much had happened over the past month. Ivy had been in and out of the hospital, barely able to take care of herself, let alone keep track of what was happening with Micah, or at the Ludwig Mansion.

Jamison’s profile was calm, but his eyes were shadowed with concern. The set of his jaw betrayed a solemn seriousness.

“It’s the same old heart trouble. She had surgery before; if she takes it easy, she could have three or five good years ahead of her. But with everything going on in my sister’s family, she worries constantly. The stress is starting to get to her–she’s showing signs of heart failure. If she doesn’t manage to get her emotions under control…” Jamison trailed off, glancing at the road, “Well, let’s just say, forget about her promise to you about the next three years. She might not even make it through this winter.”

He didn’t finish the thought, but Ivy understood all too well.

She hadn’t realized things had gotten so severe.

Guilt twisted in her chest. She looked over at him, her voice soft with apology. “I’m sorry. These past weeks, I’ve been so wrapped up in my own problems, I had no idea how much you were dealing with.”

Jamison gave a small, almost tired smile, glancing at her before focusing on the road again. “There’s nothing for you to apologize for. None of this is your fault.”

“But we’re married. I should be helping you–sharing the burden, not just standing by.”

From the beginning, Jamison had always been the one giving more, sacrificing more.

Ivy understood that every relationship is built on mutual support and effort. If one person is always the one sacrificing, eventually, something’s going to snap.

Right now, it was clear Jamison was the one facing the greater struggles, shouldering the heavier load. If she, as his wife, couldn’t help carry even a little of it, what kind of partner did that make her?

“What can I do to help?” she asked quietly. “Once I’m fully recovered, should we start trying for a baby? Your grandmother’s been hoping you’d have children for ages–if she knew we were trying, maybe it’d lift her spirits. Or I could visit the old house more often, keep her company?”

Her sincerity was written all over her face; she truly wanted to do her part.

Jamison let out a small laugh, the tension in his features easing. “Are you sure visiting more often wouldn’t just make things worse?”

She caught the teasing in his tone and replied earnestly, “Your mom always says she doesn’t like me, but she’s never really done anything awful. Maybe I should just go against the grain–show up more, keep her on her toes. Give her something else to fuss over besides your sister’s mess.”

Just like tonight–she’d managed to make the old lady laugh, hadn’t she?

Jamison nodded. “Honestly, that’s not a bad idea. If you’re willing to go, I’d be grateful.”

“Alright. From now on, we’ll try to visit more.”

Before, Ivy had avoided the old estate because of Micah–his presence always made everything tense and uncomfortable. But now that he was no longer an issue, and with Jamison’s grandmother in poor health, Ivy wanted to help, out of love for her husband and a sense of duty.

Speaking of Micah, Ivy’s curiosity got the better of her. “How’s he doing now? Still in a coma?”

“Yeah. He hasn’t woken up–looks like the lack of oxygen did more damage than we thought.”

“Will he ever wake up?”

Jamison was quiet for a moment. “It’s hard to say. Maybe he will, maybe he’ll sleep like this forever… or maybe one day things will just get worse, and he’ll be gone.”

Ivy didn’t reply, her thoughts drifting.

For months, she’d resented Micah bitterly. But thinking back, remembering how things were when they first dated three years ago, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret.

If it were possible, she hoped he would wake up. He’d already paid a steep price for his mistakes; even if he did miraculously recover, he’d have to live with his diagnosis for the rest of his life.

But if he survived–if he woke up–at least Carla would have hope, and Jamison’s parents might find a little comfort.

And maybe, indirectly, that would ease some of Jamison’s burden, too.

On the weekend, Sophia caught a flight back down south.

Before she left, Ivy and Dale Sullivan went to the airport to see her off.

Sophia had enjoyed her visit so much, she was even toying with the idea of opening a shop in town.

Ivy was surprised, giving her a knowing look. “So, do you like the city, or is it someone here you like?”

Sophia laughed. “Both! The city’s great, and the people are even better.”

Ivy shot Dale a glance, certain words on the tip of her tongue, but she held them back.

After they said their goodbyes, Ivy was barely back in the city when her phone started buzzing with a flood of photos from her best friend.

A whole string of pictures.

She clicked them open, her eyes widening in shock.

Photos of Baillie’s wedding–to that wealthy older woman.

“Today’s Mr. Windsor’s wedding. I know you didn’t go, but I saw the pictures online and just had to share,” Katrina Lester sent in a voice message.

Ivy enlarged each photo, unable to shake her astonishment.

The Windsor family had sent her an invitation, but she hadn’t planned to attend–she’d all but forgotten about it.

If not for Katrina’s pictures, she wouldn’t have remembered at all.

She hadn’t gone, and the Windsors hadn’t called to pester her, either. It seemed that what she’d said last time had finally gotten through.