twenty

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i v a n a

I stood in front of the mirror, my fingers nervously smoothing out the creases in my dress. I hadn't been to a doctor in years, not since I lived at the orphanage. There, the women took care of our health, but they weren't exactly frequent with doctor's visits. This morning, as I prepared for another day at school, Matthew had caught me off guard with a reminder.

"Hey, Ivana, don't forget. You've got a doctor's appointment today. You don't have to go to school," he said cheerily, trying to ease my sudden panic.

„The doctor's appointment is today?" I repeated, my voice trembling. "But... how much will it cost? We shouldn't be wasting money on—"

Matthew placed a calming hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry about the cost. Dad's got it covered. Just focus on taking care of yourself, okay? It is just a checkup, no need to worry."

I tried to breathe, but anxiety knotted my stomach. By 9:30, I made my way downstairs, half expecting to find the doctor waiting somewhere in the mansion. Instead, Gray stood in the living room, his arms crossed, eyes fixed on me.

"Will I be driving with you?" I asked hesitantly.

Gray shook his head, his stern expression unchanging. "No, you're going with your legal guardian."

"Wh—" I began, but the words caught in my throat as my father stepped out from the shadows. I hadn't seen him in so long that it felt almost unreal.

"It's good to see you, Ivana," he said, his voice a strange mix of warmth and authority.

"Hi," I replied, awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other.

Gray cleared his throat and nodded toward the door. "We should get going."

The ride into town was tense. I sat next to my father in the backseat, while his chauffeur drove and six guards followed us. The presence of so many guards felt excessive and suffocating. My father tried to make small talk, asking about my life at the mansion, how I was adjusting, but it felt forced.

At the doctor's office, my father had to sign several documents before I was ushered into an examination room. The doctor, a kind-looking woman with glasses, performed a thorough check-up. As she examined me, I couldn't shake the feeling of dread.

„Do you get your period regularly, Ivana?" she asked, her voice calm.

„No." I simply replied.

After the examination, the doctor asked my father to join us. She sat down across from us, her expression professional but serious.

"Mr. Castillo, Ivana's physical health is generally fine, but there is one severe concern," she began, her eyes flicking to me. "Ivana is underweight. Given her age and height, she should weigh way more. I'm worried she might be anorexic."

My heart pounded in my chest. "No, I'm not anorexic," I protested. "I eat everything. I don't count calories or anything like that."

The doctor nodded but didn't look convinced. "It's important to ensure she eats regular, nutritious meals," she said to my father. "Her body needs proper nourishment, I think that's why your period is missing, as well."

My father's face tightened, and a flicker of anger passed over his features. I felt a surge of anxiety, but I tried to keep my composure.

Oh, dear god. Now everyone will know about it. How am I supposed to explain it to them? I control my meals, so my ego doesn't get hurt?

The ride back home was silent. My father's jaw was clenched, his eyes staring straight ahead. I watched him, feeling the tension grow with each passing mile. As soon as we arrived home, he erupted.

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