The party was finally over.
I should've felt relieved, but instead, a strange tension hung in the air between us. Ivy had played her part well—better than anyone could have expected—but I could sense the storm brewing beneath her calm exterior. The entire night, I'd caught glimpses of her trying to mask her discomfort, her frustration simmering just below the surface. And I knew why. Brielle had gotten to her, and though Ivy would never admit it, her words had left a mark.
I noticed the way her smile faltered when she thought no one was looking, the way her eyes clouded with thoughts I couldn't read. She was holding herself together, but barely. That realization bothered me more than it should have. Brielle's attempt to undermine Ivy had been obvious and calculated, but the fact that it worked—it irritated me.
As Ivy exchanged farewells with the last few guests, I watched from a distance, pretending to focus on other conversations. But my attention was always on her, even when I didn't want it to be. The way she carried herself tonight, the way she handled herself in this world that was so foreign to her—it was admirable, yet the strain was visible. And it only made me more aware of the situation we were in.
I moved closer, standing behind her as she spoke to a middle-aged couple. The moment I was near, I saw the tension in her shoulders relax, just slightly. My hand found its way to the small of her back, a silent gesture of reassurance. Her skin was cold, exposed to the chilly air all night, and as my palm rested on her, I felt her shiver—not from the cold, but from my touch.
She glanced up at me, her eyes meeting mine with a question lingering in them, though she didn't say a word. I looked at her for a few moments, searching for something—what, I didn't know. When she smiled, it was a little forced, but she nodded as if to say she was fine. I didn't entirely believe her, but I let it slide for now. We still had a role to play, and I wasn't about to break character.
The couple she was talking to noticed the small gesture between us, their smiles turning into something smug and full of assumptions. They began commenting on how we were perfectly suited for each other, making it sound like we were some ideal couple. I forced a polite nod, playing along as they wrapped up their conversation. The pleasantries were tiresome, and I could sense Ivy wanted out just as much as I did.
Finally, we left the main hall and walked toward the limo in silence. I could feel her tension, the way she held herself so rigidly, but I didn't say anything. My own thoughts were too tangled to offer any comfort. As we reached the car, I opened the door for her, my hand brushing hers briefly. She didn't look at me, just slid into the backseat quietly, and I followed her in.
The ride back was unbearably silent, the only sound coming from the engine as it hummed steadily. Ivy stared out the window, lost in her own thoughts, and I found myself glancing at her more than I should've. All night, I'd been stealing glances, watching her from across the room. I wasn't sure why. Maybe it was to make sure she was holding up, or maybe it was something more.
She'd handled herself well—better than I expected—but I could tell something was off. I should've asked her what was wrong, but instead, I stayed quiet. I wasn't good at this—at offering reassurance or addressing feelings. That wasn't how I operated.
The silence stretched on, becoming almost unbearable, until Ivy finally spoke.
"Do you want to know what I spoke to Brielle about?"
Her voice was calm, but I knew her well enough by now to sense the uncertainty beneath it. She was testing the waters, gauging my reaction. I turned to look at her, meeting her gaze directly.
"Is the information important?" I asked, keeping my voice neutral.
I could see the hesitation in her eyes as she considered my question. Whatever Brielle had said to her, it had clearly gotten under her skin, but was it important enough to discuss? I doubted it.
"No," she finally answered, though her voice lacked conviction.
I nodded, accepting her answer without pressing further. I wasn't in the mood to dissect whatever Brielle had said. If it wasn't important, I didn't need to know.
But as I turned away, staring out the window once again, I couldn't shake the lingering feeling that there was more to this than Ivy was letting on. The silence returned, heavier this time, and though we were sitting side by side, it felt like there was a distance between us that couldn't be bridged.
It shouldn't have bothered me. But it did.