Resting her hand on her forehead, Ivy Jackson let out a tired sigh. She desperately wanted to rest, not just for the sake of her body but also for her weary heart. She yearned for a journey to liberate and rediscover herself...
Could she truly find herself? Could she find the answer to the question 'Who is Ivy Jackson?'?
Instead of going to the Prosecution Court to complete official procedures, Ivy arranged for a second-level prosecutor, a newcomer she recently took under her wing, to visit her home that same evening.
"Miss, there's a gentleman named Wells looking for you." Mrs. Tian informed Ivy via an internal line about Andrew Wells' arrival.
"Please guide him to my room. Thank you, Mrs. Tian." Ivy hung up the phone, rose to fetch a light blue shawl to wrap around her shoulders, and poured herself a cup of coffee to cool down. Two minutes later, Andrew Wells arrived, bringing files and knocking at her door.
"Come in." Ivy walked towards the door with her back facing it. Via the reflection on the floor-to-ceiling glass, she saw Wells, who had hurriedly dashed over in a t-shirt and shorts. Of course, she also noted her own cheeks, which showed no signs of bruising thanks to the medication provided by Emina Meyer. Her lips curled slightly in amusement. True to form, he was someone she trained. He knew the value of time and efficiency.
"Boss, I rushed over as soon as I got your call. What happened? Why didn't you go to work today?" Wells, a twenty-five-year-old man, appeared in Ivy's eyes as nothing more than an overgrown boy.
His attractive appearance paired with intense dedication to his studies and examination for becoming a prosecutor, had kept him single - just like Ivy. For the sake of this profession, he had lost much, similar to Ivy.
"Did you bring the documents I asked for?" Ivy turned her head slightly without answering his query, but instead asked her own.
"Oh, yes." Wells promptly strode over and placed all the documents on the table beside Ivy.
Ivy pointed at the coffee and said, "Drink it."
"Boss, you poured this for me?" Wells appeared surprised, as normally it was his duty to serve coffee to Ivy.
"I need your help this time, so drink up." Ivy's cool response followed as she picked up the documents and headed towards her desk to begin working.
Wells hastily picked up the cup brimming with his superior's concern, and contentedly began to sip his coffee, it was then he took a moment to survey Ivy's boudoir. After all, he was the first rookie from the Prosecution Court to ever visit Inspector Ivy's home. Despite being awestruck by the Jackson Family's villa and flower garden, he found Inspector Ivy's room...to be surprisingly simple, far from what a young lady should have. There were hardly any cosmetics on her vanity, the bed was simply just a bed accessorized with white quilt and linens, and the lavender curtains. The only casual feature in her room was a small white round table paired with two round stools. What puzzled him further was the complete absence of any photos of Inspector Ivy.
Upon glancing back at Ivy's figure, Wells flashed a faint smile. Apparently, Inspector Ivy did change into casual wear at times. He couldn't deny, although she was merely dressed in sportswear, her loose hair and blue-shaded shawl gave off a rare hint of warmth.
Sometime later, Ivy, glasses resting on her nose, placed a stack of documents in front of Wells: "Submit these for me tomorrow."
"Oh… What's this…" Wells took the files and gawked in surprise, "Boss, are you taking annual leave?"
"Yes. Also, these documents contain some ongoing cases. You'll have to continue to track them. I've sorted out the evidence and progress so far. The team can use it. That's about it for now. You may leave." Ivy instructed and moved towards the door to open it, barely giving Wells a chance to ask any further questions.
"Boss…" Wells was full of questions but Ivy's demeanor left him bewildered. He let out a sigh and left, clutching the documents.
After Wells left, Ivy gently closed the door and headed into the dressing room to retrieve her suitcase. Apart from two sets of pajamas, she had no other clothes to pack. Ivy stared at her monochromatic shirts and suits, running her hands through her hair in despair, "Ivy, how did you survive these twenty-eight years!?"
Ivy sat on the floor, staring dejectedly at her suitcase. She hadn't informed anyone from the Jackson Family about her planned trip, nor did she plan on telling them. It would have caused quite a commotion... She had a clear vision of the chaos that would ensue without having to imagine it.
At least twice in a person's lifetime, there should be an impulse, once for a headlong passionate love, and once for a spontaneous journey.
She was too timid to be recklessly in love, she had too many considerations... She could only... give up. Although she had decided to steer clear of Bryan Oakley, her heart was bleeding, unseen by anyone. A spontaneous journey, however, was something she could still manage...
Ivy left without a sound.
She left home at six in the morning, as Mrs. Tian was just getting up to prepare breakfast. Ivy passed on a letter she had written to Mrs. Tian, "If my father and mother ask whether I have gone to work, give them this letter. If they don't ask… Let it be."
"Miss, where are you headed?" Mrs. Tian looked worridly at Ivy; the sky barely had started to lighten, yet she was leaving?
"I… am not sure." Ivy bit her lip and suddenly put down her luggage, bent down, and hugged Mrs. Tian. Mrs. Tian shivered; the young madam had never expressed such affection towards her before…
"Mrs. Tian, thank you for everything. So many thanks… I'm leaving now." Ivy lightly hugged Mrs. Tian, and she realized that in this home, the only person she could say goodbye to was Mrs. Tian.
Ivy grabbed her luggage and walked out of the door, not looking back.
The content of the letter was simple. She merely informed them that she was taking annual leave. She hadn't written anything else as she knew that her father wouldn't have approved of her taking leave, her mother would lament about it, and Wendy would assume that she was running away because of Bryan Oakley.
No one would want to know where she was headed to.
In the taxi, Ivy was seated at the back as the driver headed towards the airport.
"Miss, are you on a work trip?" The driver attempted to strike up a conversation, perhaps feeling the atmosphere inside the car too somber.
Ivy frowned slightly and turned her gaze towards the driver, "Why do you think I am on a work trip?"
"Isn't it…? You are dressed formally, wearing black-rimmed glasses. You look quite serious!" The clueless driver had no idea that he had said something wrong and Ivy was left speechless.
Ivy turned her gaze towards the window and pondered, had anyone ever used words such as 'feminine' to describe the twenty-eight-year-old Ivy? She had never been loved by anyone until now. Was that pitiful? Not really, because she had an epiphany during these few days. If she didn't love herself, how could anyone else?