Ivy brushed away her hand, took out a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, and as she pulled out one, Tracy quickly snatched it away.
"Are you crazy? When did you learn to smoke?" She stared at her, disbelief clouding her face at how fast her friend had changed. "These cigarettes contain a lot of nicotine and are harmful to your body, it's like slow suicide!"
"What's there to be afraid of? Some people smoke and still live to be seventy or eighty!" She reached out to grab it back.
Tracy dodged, stepped back two paces, "Seventy or eighty? Have you ever thought that if they didn't smoke, they'd live even longer?"
Hearing this, Ivy froze for a moment, but then waved her hand and lay back down on the couch.
She didn't agree with her but also didn't argue; she simply told her, "Tracy, I consider you like a sister, but you're not my real family, so please don't meddle in my affairs!"
She lay on her side, her eyes fixed on her, her beautiful face slightly smudged with makeup.
