Ivy's POV
After what felt like an eternity on the road, I finally pulled into the driveway of my home. The familiar sight of my porch brought a wave of relief over me, and I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. I stepped out of the car, the cool evening air brushing against my skin, and started walking toward the front door.
As I reached for my keys, a chill ran down my spine, a gut feeling that I wasn't alone. I paused, glancing over my shoulder. The streetlights cast long shadows, but the quiet of the night made every sound seem amplified. I took a deep breath and turned slowly, ready to face whatever, or whoever was behind me.
"Ivy!"
The voice rang out with familiarity, cutting through the stillness like a knife. My heart skipped a beat, and I instantly recognized it. Sabastian. Relief washed over me and was quickly replaced by a mix of confusion and annoyance.
"Sabastian? What are you doing here?" I asked, trying to keep my tone steady, though part of me was still startled. He stepped into the light, his silhouette becoming clearer. His expression was a blend of concern and that casual confidence he always wore.
"I know you were expecting me today," He replied, a hint of sincerity underlying his playful tone. "I saw you driving home and thought I'd check in."
I shook my head slightly, still trying to process his sudden appearance. Was he really here out of concern? Sabastian had a way of showing up when I least expected it, and while part of me appreciated the gesture, another part couldn't help but feel a sense of invasion.
"Next time, maybe give me a hint first?" I suggested, raising an eyebrow.
He chuckled, hands shoved deep in his pockets. "Consider it a surprise visit. Besides, I wanted to make sure you made it home safe."
I couldn't help but smile at his thoughtfulness, even if it was slightly irritating. "Well, I'm home now, so you can relax," I said, before turning back to the door.
But the night felt different, charged with an energy I couldn't quite name, something about having Sabastian so close made the familiar embrace of home feel a bit more electric.
"By the way, why weren't you at the auction today?" I asked. "I invited you and you gave me your word that you would come, but you didn't."
"And does that upset you?" He asked, walking closer to me.
"Yeah. I am upset. I was waiting for you, I thought that you actually liked my works and I wanted you to see all the artwork I restored," I answered.
"I wanted to come and support you but I couldn't," He said.
"Why is that?" I asked.
"You wouldn't understand," He said as he turned his face away from me. "I don't know how to talk about it."
As Sabastian turned his face away, I caught a glimpse of the genuine expression that flickered across his features. It was vulnerable and almost raw, a stark contrast to the confident persona he often projected. His eyes held a mixture of frustration and something deeper, an emotion that suggested a silent struggle he was grappling with. I felt an urge to reach out, to bridge the distance that had suddenly formed between us.
I took a step closer, closing the gap between us as if I could somehow erase the tension that hung in the air. "Hey," I said softly, my gaze searching his. "It's okay. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."
The sincerity in my voice seemed to catch him off guard; his eyes flicked back to mine, uncertainty swirling within them. I could see him wrestling with his thoughts, the walls he had built trying to hold back whatever he was feeling.
"It's just," I continued my voice barely above a whisper, "I want you to feel safe sharing, but I also understand if you're not ready. I'm here, no matter what."
In that moment, I hoped he could see that I wasn't just being polite, I genuinely cared. The warmth between us felt palpable, and I wanted him to feel that he wasn't alone, even if he chose to keep some things to himself. His expression softened slightly, and I ached to know what was beneath his guarded exterior, but I also recognized that sometimes, silence spoke volumes too.
"Well... you're here now, right?" I said, trying to change the mood. "I was just about to go inside, wanna come in?"
"Are you inviting me inside your home?" He asked politely.
"Yes, Sabastian. Come in."
As I stepped aside, Sabastian took a moment at the threshold, hesitating just a bit before he entered. He moved slowly, his gaze sweeping across the interior. The atmosphere of my home wrapped around us like a soft blanket, a stark contrast to the tension of the night outside.
The living room was bathed in the warm glow of recessed lighting, complemented by the gentle flicker of candles on the coffee table. A cozy gray sectional adorned with plush cushions occupied the center of the room, inviting comfort. The walls were a gallery of the artwork I had restored, contemporary pieces mixed with splashes of vibrant colors that danced across the canvas. Each piece told a story, much like the emotions swirling between us.
As Sabastian stepped fully inside, I caught a glimpse of his expression shifting from the uncertainty of the evening to a semblance of calm. The polished hardwood floors reflected the light beautifully, leading the way to a sleek, modern kitchen that was thoughtfully designed with clean lines and subtle elegance. The island, topped with a deep navy stone, was clutter-free except for a vase of fresh flowers, adding a touch of life to the minimalist aesthetic.
"Nice place," He remarked, his voice holding a mix of admiration and surprise. I watched as he absorbed the space, the way his shoulders relaxed a little as if the weight of the outside world was lifting ever so slightly.
"Thanks," I replied, feeling a sense of pride swell within me. "I wanted a space that felt both modern and comfortable."
We moved further into the room, past a large abstract painting that hung above a sleek white sofa. The piece was a blend of blues and gold, echoing the night sky and shimmering stars, a reminder of the beauty hidden within the darkness. Sabastian paused momentarily, his eyes tracing the strokes, and I hoped he could see the meaning behind it, the way I poured my heart into every restoration.
The soft sound of music played in the background, a gentle melody that created a serene ambiance. I turned toward him, noting how the light captured the angles of his face again, softening his usual confident demeanor. "Would you like something to drink?" I asked, breaking the brief silence.
"Sure, water's fine," He replied, moving deeper into the space, looking as if he was beginning to feel more at home. As I stepped into the kitchen to grab a glass, I glanced back and found him admiring a small shelf filled with books and small sculptures, each piece carefully chosen to reflect my love for art and literature.
"Really, this is impressive," He said, his voice carrying an unexpected warmth. I turned back to see him engrossed in a small sculpture of a bird, the intricate details catching his attention. "You've created a sanctuary here."
"Thank you," I said, handing him the water. Our fingers brushed, and I felt a flutter in my chest at the simple contact. "You're cold, like ice cold."
"Hmm..."
The atmosphere felt like it was shifting, each passing moment reinforcing the connection that seemed to stretch between us.
"Well, make yourself at home," I encouraged, motioning to the couch. As he settled in, the familiarity of the space mixed with the electric energy between us, creating a beautiful tension that hung in the air. In that moment, I sensed that we were both searching for an anchor, a groundedness amidst the chaos outside, and perhaps we'd found it in each other, even just for tonight.