Micah slipped quietly out of the house, moving along the stone path that led through the back gardens. He followed the path until it curved toward his grandmother's residence. He knew exactly where she would be, her favourite spot, the indoor garden. The moment he stepped inside, the faint rustle of leaves and the earthy smell of soil wrapped around him.
There she was: Zhou Ruyan seated in her wicker chair with a pot of tea at her side. Beside her sat his grandfather, Albert Ramsy, his back straight, a newspaper folded neatly on his lap.
Micah froze in the doorway. Shit. Just his luck. He wanted to speak with Zhou Ruyan alone, asking for advice, but with his grandfather's presence, it seemed impossible.
"Grandma, grandpa," he greeted them in the end.
Zhou Ruyan lifted her head, her gentle eyes narrowing in suspicion. "What's with the get-up?"
