Slowly, he turned back, his face pale, his eyes filled with fear.
After a long, suffocating silence, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Will… will my wife be harmed?"
Ivy chuckled softly, though there was no warmth in it.
"If I'm not mistaken," she replied, "then eventually… she won't survive."
The words hit him like a blow.
His shoulders trembled before he slowly returned to his seat, as if all strength had left his body.
Ivy watched him carefully.
"Now," she continued, "tell me everything. What has she been doing?"
Keith clenched his fists tightly, his knuckles turning white.
"It started months ago," he said, his voice strained. "She began acting… strange. Sneaking out in the middle of the night."
He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping.
"At first, I thought it was postpartum depression. I followed her a few times… but she would just sit outside, staring at the sky with this… empty expression."
