Devil's Prisoner of Love by Prefer

Meeting such a kind and warmhearted elder at this moment felt like a blessing to Ivy, as if she had found warmth in the coldest winter.

"Thank you, Grandma," Ivy said sincerely.

"No need to thank me, child. You've had a hard ttoo. Just stay here and rest for a while. I need to step out for a bit," the old woman replied with a gentle smile.

"Alright," Ivy nodded. Her heart, battered and broken by life and by Walsh, felt a faint trace of warmth for the first tin a long while.

Yes, there were bad people in the world, but there were also many good ones-like Frank, and like this kind old woman.

In the simple room, Ivy took a shower and changed into clothes belonging to the old woman's daughter-in-law. The wound on her forehead was carefully bandaged with herbs from the mountains. Even though those two men had left, Ivy wasn't sure if they might still be lurking somewhere nearby. She didn't dare step out of the old woman's house, not even into the yard.

Despite this constant worry that the two men might suddenly return, Ivy found herself unexpectedly at peace here.

The small mountain village was far from wealthy, but it offered Ivy a kind of tranquility she had never experienced before. There was no television, no modern appliances, and certainly no Wi-Fi. The only phone in the house was an old flip phone, its only entertainment a gof Tetris.

Ivy wondered how the old woman spent her days. She soon found out-the yard was filled with flowers and plants, which the woman tended to every day. She also ventured into the mountains to gather wild vegetables and, during her free time, put on her reading glasses to embroider insoles.

At first, Ivy thought life here would be unbearably dull. But to her surprise, the days passed much more comfortably than she had imagined. For the first time, she felt free from the worries of money, the size of her home, the quality of her clothes, or any of the other troubles that had weighed on her before.

One day, the old woman taught Ivy how to embroider insoles.

"Who are you making these for?" she asked.

"I..." For a moment, Ivy hesitated. The image that flashed through her mind wasn't Walsh, but Frank-the bearded, rugged man who had always been there for her.

"Look at you, blushing like that! You must be making them for someone special, right? I understand. If it's for someone you love, you should choose patterns with special meanings-like mandarin ducks swimming together or swans with entwined necks," the old woman teased with a knowing smile.

"He's just a friend, Grandma. I'm only making these for a friend," Ivy insisted, though her tone lacked conviction. "Alright, alright. Then what pattern do you want to embroider?" "Anything is fine. The flowers you're working on now look nice," Ivy replied.

"These are for my son," the old woman said, her voice softening. "We old folks don't have much tleft. My son works in the city, and he's always so busy. Kids grow up and can't stay by your side the way they did when they were little. I just want to make him as many insoles as I can. That way, even after I'm gone, he'll have enough to last him for years. When he sees these insoles, he'll think of me.

"But lately, I've been struggling more and more. Sometimes it takeshalf a day just to thread a needle. Getting old is hard, child." If you're loving the book, nel5sis where the adventure continues. Join us for the complete experience-all for free. The next chapter is eagerly waiting for you! Perhaps it was because she had been lonely for so long, but the old woman becespecially talkative when speaking with Ivy. She shared thoughts and feelings she had never expressed to her own son. Listening to her, Ivy felt a pang of sadness. This was the reality for so many people, wasn't it? Children grow up and leave the nest, no longer needing their parents to care for them. They build their own families, raise their own children, and pour all their love and attention into the next generation- forgetting the parents who raised them.

From the moment a child is born, they owe their parents-not just for giving them life, but for all the love and ttheir parents sacrificed. Yet no matter how much children do, it will never compare to what their parents gave.

"Grandma, lethelp you thread the needle," Ivy offered quietly.

"Child, having you here to keepcompany is already such a blessing. But one day, you'll leave too, and I'll be alone again," the old woman said with a bittersweet smile. Though her tone was lighthearted, Ivy could hear the sadness beneath her words. "Grandma, I promise I'll cback to visit you. I love this place. I'll definitely return," Ivy said earnestly.

"Don't lie to an old woman like me. All I can do now is wait and hope," she replied with a sigh.

"I won't lie to you," Ivy promised.

Her there wasn't just about healing her body; it was healing her soul as well. For the first time, she saw her past self clearly-how foolish she had been and the mistakes she had made. Perhaps everything she was going through now was karma for her past actions. She had never believed in karma before, but now she did.

Five days later, the man finally arrived. This place wasn't easy to find, and he had gotten lost several times along the way. But at last, he stumbled into the small village, exhausted but determined.

If you're loving the book, nel5sis where the adventure continues. Join us for the complete experience all for free. The next chapter is eagerly waiting for you! "Ivy, I'm here. Where are you?" Frank's voice called out.

Over the past few days, they had spoken on the phone every few hours to make sure the other was safe. Knowing he was getting closer had calmed Ivy's heart more and more.

In the past, she had envied and even resented Julian for how he treated Aurora, thinking it was only his wealth and background that om mattered. Later, she realized it wasn't just that-Julian had loved Aurora unconditionally. When she met Walsh, she thought he might be the skind of man. But in the end, she was left with nothing but emptiness. The only person who had truly cared for her was Frank. Frank, the man who had traveled thousands of miles at her call, who didn't ride in on a white horse but was still her hero.

Ivy pushed the door open and saw him standing by the bamboo fence, looking for her. His beard had grown longer, and his hair was a mess. In the past, she would have been repelled by such a scruffy appearance. But now, that bearded, disheveled man made her feel safe.

"Frank, I'm here," she called out.

Frank rushed toward her, his worry evident. "Ivy, are you okay? Are you hurt?" Without hesitation, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.

When he saw the wound on her forehead, his heart ached. "I'm sorry, Ivy. I should never have let you go. Even if I had to tie you to my side, I would've protected you. I wouldn't have let anyone hurt you." His words broke down the last of Ivy's defenses. She stood on her tiptoes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him. His beard tickled her face, but it only made her feel more at home.

Frank was stunned by her sudden kiss. This was the first tIvy had ever been the one to initiate. He had been holding onto the memory of their last kiss, replaying it in his mind. Now, he stood frozen, his arms tightening around her. After losing her once, he wasn't going to let her go again. From a distance, the old woman returned from gathering herbs and saw the scene. She smiled warmly. This, she thought, was what love should look like.

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