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Ivan's heart raced as his aunt's words echoed in his mind that his father had told everyone to leave. It wasn't the first time his father made decisions without discussing them, but this one felt different. Panic began to claw at him, and his thoughts turned to his buttercup. She was the one person he couldn't bear to see hurting, and the fear that she might be locked away in her room, crying, sent a wave of worry through him.
Without hesitation, Ivan rushed upstairs, his feet barely touching the ground as he bolted towards Ivy's room. The closer he got, the more intense his anxiety became. He stopped in front of the door and knocked loudly, almost angrily. "Ivy, open the door! I said open the door, Ivy!" His voice was louder than he intended, but the fear in his chest made it impossible to stay calm. He pressed his ear against the door, straining to hear anything from the other side. All he could make out were muffled sobs-each one tightening the knot of worry inside him.
The sound of her crying only fueled his desperation. He pounded on the door again, more forcefully this time. "Ivy, I swear, if you don't open this door in the next ten seconds, I'll break it down!" His words were a mixture of anger and worry about his buttercup, but deep down, all he wanted was to make sure she was okay. He couldn't stand the thought of her being in pain, isolated behind that closed door, with no way to reach her.
Time seemed to slow as Ivan counted down in his head, waiting for any sign from Ivy. His mind raced with possibilities, each worse than the last. He couldn't wait much longer. If she didn't open the door soon, he would have no choice but to keep his word and force his way in, determined to be there for his sister, no matter what was going on behind that locked door.
As the door slowly creaked open, Ivan's heart sank at the sight of Ivy standing before him. Her hair was disheveled, her face streaked with tears, and her shoulders slumped as if the weight of the world had been placed on them. She didn't say a word, but she didn't need to. Her pain was etched clearly across her face. Without hesitation, Ivan pulled her into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around her protectively. The sobs that escaped her shook his entire body, and he held her tighter, as if his embrace could shield her from everything that had hurt her.
Ivy cried hard against his chest, her tears soaking through his shirt as she clung to him desperately. "Why does he hate me so much?" she sobbed, her voice breaking with each word. Ivan's chest tightened at the sound of her heartbreak. He tried to hush her gently, running his hand soothingly through her hair, whispering that it was going to be okay, but her sobs only grew louder. Each word she uttered-each cry of pain-made his heart ache more. He wanted to take away her suffering, to protect her from whatever had caused this deep wound.
When he finally pulled away slightly, Ivan gently cupped Ivy's face, his hands trembling as he tilted her chin up to meet his gaze. That's when he saw it-a bright red hand mark on her cheek, stark against her pale skin. His breath caught in his throat, and his mind went blank for a moment, the world around him narrowing down to that single mark. His stomach churned with anger, and his grip on her shoulders tightened unconsciously. His eyes darkened as fury bubbled up from deep within him, a cold, sharp rage that filled his chest.
