The drive back to Ivy’s cottage was quiet but not uncomfortable, the hum of the car providing a soothing backdrop to their shared silence. The air outside was crisp, the night sky dotted with stars peeking through thin clouds. Harper stole occasional glances at Ivy, who seemed calmer now, her fingers idly fidgeting with the strap of her bag as she gazed out the window.

When they arrived, Ivy unlocked the door and turned to Harper, her tone soft but insistent. “Do you want to stay the night? It’s late, and… I don’t really want to be alone.”

Harper hesitated, unsure. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not,” Ivy said, a small smile forming as she stepped inside. “You can take the bed. I’ll be fine on the couch.”

“No way. I can’t take your bed, Ivy.”

Ivy chuckled lightly, waving her hand toward the couch. “Relax. It’s a sofa bed, and honestly, it’s pretty comfortable. Come on, Harper. Don’t make me beg.”

Relenting, Harper nodded with a grateful smile. “Alright, but only if you’re sure.”

Inside, the cottage was cozy and inviting. Ivy moved to the kitchen, setting a pot of milk on the stove. “Hot chocolate?” she offered, glancing over her shoulder.

“That sounds perfect,” Harper replied, leaning against the door frame and crossing her arms comfortably. She watched Ivy move around the kitchen, the warm light casting a golden glow over her soft features.

Once Ivy was ready with two steaming mugs, she gestured toward the living room, where the gaming setup from earlier was still intact. “Since everything’s already here, want to play Overcooked? Just for fun this time?”

Harper grinned. “I’d like that.”

They sat cross-legged on the floor, their backs against the couch, looking up at the projector casting the familiar game onto the wall. The atmosphere was a stark contrast to earlier, the playful chaos of the game punctuated by quiet laughter and soft chatter. 

Ivy leaned into Harper without realizing it, her head resting lightly on Harper’s shoulder as she gave instructions on their next move. Harper stiffened for a moment, her heart pounding at the unexpected closeness, but quickly relaxed, savoring the moment.

Meanwhile, Harper’s thoughts were less composed. She fought to push down the pangs of jealousy stirred up by Maze’s earlier words. The idea of someone like Maze being so cavalier with someone as warm and kind as Ivy gnawed at her. However, Harper kept her feelings hidden, focusing on the easy rhythm of their companionship.

As the night wore on, Ivy yawned, her eyes drooping. “I think that’s my cue,” she murmured, setting down the controller.

Harper smiled. “Let’s pack up here and call it a night.”

Together, they tidied the space, Harper putting away the projector and laptop while Ivy rinsed their empty mugs in the sink. 

Ivy handed Harper a neatly folded towel, a pair of sweatpants, and a sweatshirt. “These might be a bit small on you, but they’re the comfiest I have.”

“Thanks, Ivy,” Harper said, taking the clothes and heading to the bathroom.

The warm bath was a welcome comfort, and Harper emerged feeling refreshed, the scent of Ivy’s lavender-scented soap clinging to her skin. Dressed in Ivy’s clothes, she sat on the couch, which Ivy had turned into a sofa bed while Harper was in the shower. The faint smell of Ivy lingered on the fabric, making Harper want to gather it up and breathe it in, but she was sure Ivy would notice if she messed with the bedding.

After a few moments of tidying up this and that, Ivy went ahead and used the bathroom herself, allowing Harper a few moments of uninterrupted privacy to enjoy being in Ivy’s home long past everyone else had left. 

Harper lay back on the soft sheets and pillows that Ivy had set up for herself and stared up at the ceiling. This felt comfortable, but she couldn’t help but let her thoughts wander. She toyed with the idea of suggesting they share Ivy’s bed for a moment but decided against it.

When Ivy returned, looking equally fresh and sleepy, they exchanged soft goodnights. Harper lay on the Ivy’s bed, staring at the ceiling as her thoughts wandered. She couldn’t help but wonder if Ivy was truly okay, her mind replaying the hurt she’d seen in her earlier. Harper knew what it felt like to realize you cared more for someone than they cared for you, and she remembered getting angry for days afterward.

Rolling to her side, Harper grabbed her phone and scrolled through her social media. She tried to look up ways to console a friend, wondering if she was doing enough or too much. 

A muffled sound broke the stillness of the night. Harper sat up, straining her ears. It came again, soft and unmistakable—sobbing.

She slipped out of bed and padded toward Ivy’s living room without hesitation. Harper stood in the doorway of the small living room, her heart aching as she watched Ivy curl in on herself on the sofa bed. Her small frame shook with every suppressed sob, her hands clutching the edge of the blanket as if holding on would stop the flood of emotions. Harper had seen Ivy upset before, but never like this—never so broken.

“Ivy,” Harper whispered, sitting on the sofa's edge.

Ivy tried to stifle her sobs, wiping at her cheeks. “I’m fine, Harper. Really. Go back to sleep.”

She stepped closer and knelt beside the sofa. “Hey,” she murmured, her voice low and careful, as though anything louder might shatter Ivy completely. “C’mere.”

Without waiting for permission, Harper sat on the sofa bed and slid her arms around Ivy, coaxing her upright and guiding her head to rest against her chest. Ivy didn’t resist. Instead, she collapsed into Harper, her tears soaking into the soft cotton of her shirt. Harper’s arms tightened around her, one hand stroking Ivy’s hair, her fingers threading through the soft strands in soothing, repetitive motions.

“You deserve better than this,” Harper whispered, her voice thick with conviction. She felt Ivy’s tears pause for a moment, then resume, quieter now but no less heart-wrenching.

Ivy sniffled and pulled back slightly, her red-rimmed eyes lifting to meet Harper’s. “It’s not Maze’s fault,” she said, trembling. “She’s always told me she has big dreams and wanted to be with someone just as ambitious. I could never… I could never match her level.”

Harper sighed, her thumb brushing away a stray tear from Ivy’s cheek. “No one can match Maze’s level. That’s the problem. For her to demand that from a partner? It’s overbearing. Relationships are supposed to be about balance, about give and take.”

Ivy hesitated, her gaze dropping. “I know… I know you’re right,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “But I’ve had a crush on her for years, Harper. I tried so hard to live up to her standards. I even set up my social media account because of her. I just… It’s so painful to see how quickly she changes when there’s money or clout on the line.”

Harper propped her head up with her hand; her other arm draped protectively around Ivy. She let out a slow breath, trying to gather her thoughts and push down the tangle of emotions that surged whenever she was this close to Ivy. “I get where Maze is coming from,” she said carefully. “I do the same thing. It’s what you must do to stay on top and keep everyone’s attention. Maze probably doesn’t even connect her feelings with her behavior. To her, she’s clocked in—on the job.”

She hesitated, her chest tightening. “But maybe…” Harper said reluctantly, her voice softening. “Maybe there’s still a chance with her. How is Maze when there aren’t any cameras around?”

Ivy mulled over the question, her fingers nervously twisting the corner of the hem of her shirt. “This is the first time I’ve seen Maze in front of cameras,” she admitted. “Usually, I’m over at her place after her live streams or after she records her videos.”

Harper tilted her head, studying Ivy. “Okay,” she said slowly. “So how is she then? When it’s just the two of you?”

Ivy looked down, her cheeks coloring faintly. “She’s… clingy,” she said after a pause. “Demanding. She gets into my personal space a lot. And… it usually leads to something more… intimate.”

Harper scoffed softly, shaking her head. “So that’s Maze’s real feelings coming out behind closed doors,” she said, her voice tinged with frustration and understanding. “Whatever she did with me? That was just for show. But I get it—how jarring it must feel to have someone treat you so differently when it’s for an audience.”

Ivy nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line as she lay back on the sofa bed. Her gaze fixed on the ceiling, her expression a mix of exhaustion and despair. “It’s messing me up, Harper,” she admitted quietly. “I don’t even know how to talk to her anymore.”

Harper sat further back into the sofa bed, facing Ivy. Her hand slipped down to take Ivy’s. She held it gently, her thumb tracing slow, soothing circles over Ivy’s knuckles. “You should just behave normally around her,” Harper said, her voice steady. “But you need to realize something, Ivy. Your life will look like if you pursue a relationship with Maze. It will always be hot and cold, on and off, depending on whether there are cameras on her or not.”

Ivy sighed, her hand tightening slightly around Harper’s. For a long moment, they sat in silence, the room filled only with their breathing. Harper looked down at Ivy, her heart aching with a mixture of tenderness and longing. She desperately wanted to be the one Ivy turned to, the one Ivy trusted with her heart. But this moment wasn’t about her—it was about Ivy, and Harper would do whatever it took to help her heal, even if it meant setting her feelings aside.

“Come on,” Harper murmured finally, tugging Ivy gently to her feet. “You shouldn’t be out here alone. Let’s get you to bed.”

Ivy nodded wordlessly, letting Harper guide her into the bedroom. 

The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of the bedside lamp, casting long shadows that danced across the walls. Harper pulled Ivy over to her bed and watched as Ivy climbed on top of the sheets, snuggling down into her duvet before laying on the bed beside Ivy. Their bodies were close but not touching. 

Ivy’s breathing had steadied, her earlier sobs now just a soft hitch in her chest as she rolled to lay on her back, an arm thrown over her head as she stared up at the ceiling.

Ivy hummed softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re right,” she admitted, her words heavy with the weight of realization. “I don’t think I could handle it—being with Maze like that, with the cameras always on and everything always feeling… conditional.”

Harper sat up, crossing her legs as she faced Ivy, her hand resting gently between them. “Then what sort of partner do you see yourself with?” she asked quietly, her voice careful, almost coaxing. “Maybe thinking about that will help you solidify your decision to distance yourself from her.”

Ivy’s brows furrowed slightly as she thought it over, her fingers absently fidgeting with the hem of a pillow. “I guess…” she began, her voice tentative, “I like people who are steadfast, dependable, protective… responsible.” She laughed softly, the sound bitter and self-aware. “Now that I think about it, it is the exact opposite of Maze.”

Harper couldn’t help but chuckle, her laughter low and warm. “Yeah, Maze is about as far from steadfast or responsible as you can get. I’m surprised she remembers to feed herself most days.”

Ivy smiled faintly at that, her eyes glistening but lighter now, less burdened. Harper’s hand moved without thinking, her fingers brushing through Ivy’s hair, her touch slow and deliberate. The strands were soft against her skin, and she swallowed hard, willing herself to stay composed.

“There’s nothing wrong with keeping Maze as a friend,” Harper murmured, her voice gentle but firm. “But for the sake of your heart, Ivy… you should cut back on being intimate with her. If you don’t see a future with her, all it’s doing is slowly breaking you. And you don’t deserve that.”

Ivy’s lips trembled, her eyes filling with tears once more. She sat up abruptly, throwing her arms around Harper in a sudden, desperate hug. Her smaller frame pressed tightly against Harper’s, and she buried her face in Harper’s shoulder as the dam broke, her sobs raw and unfiltered. “You’re right,” Ivy choked out between sobs. “I’ve been holding on for so long, hoping it would get better, but it never does.” She clung to Harper as though letting go would make her fall apart completely. “Thank you… thank you for being such a good friend.”

The words pierced Harper’s chest, twisting like a blade. Friend. She held Ivy tightly, her arms wrapping protectively around the smaller woman, and breathed in the faint floral scent of her hair. The ache in her heart was almost unbearable, the longing so fierce it left her trembling. She wanted so badly to tilt Ivy’s chin up, to kiss away her tears, to make her forget Maze and see her instead.

But she couldn’t. Not now. Not like this.

Instead, Harper let out a slow, steadying breath and began to rub soothing circles on Ivy’s back. “It’s okay,” she murmured against Ivy’s hair. “I’ve got you. Let it all out.” Her voice was low, tender, filled with an earnestness that only deepened the ache inside her.

Ivy’s sobs gradually softened, her breathing evening out as Harper continued to hold her. Slowly, Harper guided them both back down to the bed, her arms never leaving Ivy’s trembling form. She tucked the blanket around them, pulling Ivy closer until the smaller woman was nestled against her chest.

Harper’s hand resumed its gentle strokes through Ivy’s hair, her other arm wrapped securely around her waist. The possessiveness she fought so hard to suppress slipped through in the way her hand lingered against Ivy’s back, in the way her fingers caressed the curve of her shoulder. She wanted to keep Ivy here, to protect her from every heartbreak, every disappointment. She wanted to be the one Ivy turned to—not just for comfort but for everything.

But Harper swallowed those desires down, locking them away where they couldn’t ruin this fragile, vulnerable moment. Ivy shifted slightly, her breathing growing softer, heavier, as sleep began to take her. Harper tightened her hold just a fraction, her lips brushing the top of Ivy’s head in a barely-there gesture of comfort.

“Sleep, Ivy,” Harper whispered, her voice thick with the emotions she refused to voice. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And as Ivy drifted off, her body relaxing fully in Harper’s arms, Harper stared up at the ceiling, her heart heavy and her mind a storm of emotions she couldn’t let herself act on. Not yet. 

For now, Ivy was safe in her arms, and that was enough.

Eventually, Harper, too, drifted off to sleep, still holding Ivy close. The line between comfort and something deeper blurred, leaving a warmth neither of them could fully explain.