A few days later, on the morning of their next shoot, Kim pulled up at Ivy’s house early in the morning. She found the nymph sitting on her porch at a small table with two chairs, surrounded by potted plants and soft cushions. Set up on the table was a breakfast spread featuring a pot of steaming mint tea and a plate of scones; a pad of butter sat in a butter tray, water condensing on the surface as Ivy sliced a cool cube and spread it upon her tasty warm scones and took a bite. 

Ivy greeted Kim warmly and got her another little plate and a tea cup. As Kim helped herself to some of Ivy’s scones, Kim showed Ivy the metrics of the campaign a day later, which was surprisingly doing so well that it was trending. 

Ivy gasped in awe. “I’ve never seen so much traffic to my social media platforms.” 

“Well, Ivy, that’s the power of going viral. Seems like your ‘non-scandal’ is making everyone a lot of money.”

Ivy rolled her eyes but smiled faintly. “Glad I could help.”

Kim leaned in with a smirk. “I mean, if you two are going to get this much attention for not doing anything, imagine what’ll happen when you two—”

Ivy smacked her arm, blushing furiously. “Kim!”

“Just saying,” Kim said, laughing as Ivy shook her head, cheeks flushed.

The lighthearted teasing, despite everything, felt like the perfect antidote to the chaos swirling around Ivy.

As Kim and Ivy settle into an easy conversation about Ivy’s social media presence overall, Ivy couldn’t help but look forward to today’s shoot, wondering what Harper herself thought about this situation and hoping to be able to spend a bit more time with her again. 

***

The crew started to roll in an hour after Kim had made an appearance. However, Harper rolled in late. Her usual put-together demeanour seemed a little off, as if she hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. 

Dressed in an oversized black and red striped long-sleeved knitwear sweater over a black sports bra, she paired it with skin-tight leather pants and chunky black Dr. Martens, creating a sexy punk look, especially with her spiked sunglasses that hid her expression completely. She looked incredibly hot and brooding, getting out of her car, her hair slightly messier than normal and her movements lazy and languid, as if she didn’t want to be there.

On the other hand, Ivy was oblivious to Harper’s mood as she was in the art studio, prepping the space for her arrival. After the morning conversation with Kim, she was in high spirits and was looking forward to being back in her element, brush in hand, ready to capture Harper’s magnetic presence again. The air on set was calm, almost soothing—until it wasn’t.

The first sign of the storm's arrival was Harper herself, strolling in sullenly, barely glancing at Ivy before slumping into her throne, and arm languidly covering her face as if she couldn’t be bothered. 

Ivy started towards Harper as if to ask her if she was okay. However, she got cut off as Kim’s voice carried across the studio, rising with a note of excitement Ivy hadn’t heard before. “Oh my God, she’s here!”

Ivy glanced up, confused. The hum of activity in the room halted as every crew member turned toward the door. Stepping inside, as if she owned not just the studio but the air itself, was a beautiful model and socialite named Avery Lane, whom Ivy had seen countless times on the front of magazine covers.

Avery was dazzling. Glossy blond waves cascaded down her shoulders, perfectly offsetting the fitted Chanel suit in bubblegum pink she wore, complete with a matching clutch and stilettos. Her presence alone screamed luxury.

“Harper!” Avery’s voice rang out, sugary sweet and dripping with entitlement. She made her way across the set, each step commanding the attention of the cameras and crew. Without waiting for an invitation, Avery perched on the arm of Harper’s throne-like chair, her manicured hand brushing casually against Harper’s shoulder.

“You didn’t tell me you’d be working on something so rustic,” she said, her voice lilting as she surveyed the painted backdrops and props. “Charming.”

Harper, stiff with surprise, recovered quickly. “Avery. What are you doing here?”

Avery leaned in, her lips dangerously close to Harper’s ear. “Just thought I’d drop by and see what all the fuss was about,” she purred, loud enough for everyone to hear.

The crew buzzed with renewed energy, cameras clicking furiously as Avery struck pose after pose, draping herself over Harper with practiced ease. Ivy’s hands stilled, the bristles of her brush barely grazing the canvas.

Ivy’s brush hovered mid-air, the vibrant green she’d mixed on her palette starting to dry as her gaze drifted toward the throne. Avery was draped across Harper like an elegant scarf, her laughter chiming through the set as though she were the star of the shoot. Harper sat stiffly, offering a polite smile as Avery leaned in to whisper something undoubtedly saccharine and exclusive.

Kim noticed Ivy faltering; her normally fluid strokes were now hesitant. Ivy’s hand dropped to her lap, and her lips pressed into a thin line as she stared at the tableau before her. It was impossible to look away from Avery—her undeniable beauty, easy confidence, and clear claim on Harper. The scene on the throne wasn’t part of Ivy’s world; it was something out of a glossy magazine, alien and untouchable.

Sensing Ivy’s discomfort, Kim crossed the set and gently touched her shoulder. “Hey,” she said softly, tugging Ivy toward the edge of the studio where the cameras wouldn’t catch them.

Ivy followed, clutching her palette like a lifeline.

“I should’ve given you a heads-up,” Kim admitted, her tone tinged with guilt. “Avery reached out a few days ago, wanting to appear. She and Harper go way back—longtime girlfriend, socialite, all that.”

Ivy blinked, her chest tightening. Girlfriend?

“She wanted to help boost Harper’s visibility,…” Kim sighed. “She’s also a brand sponsor for our next shoot. The picnic scene was just like the one you and Harper did but with Avery. It was her request.”

The words landed like blows, each driving home just how out of place Ivy felt. She’d spent the last few weeks immersing herself in the quiet, intimate moments of Harper’s world, and now it felt like someone had flipped the script. Avery wasn’t just a guest on set—she was Harper’s life, reality, and world of glittering high society.

Kim could see Ivy looking a little shell-shocked. She rubbed Ivy’s arm soothingly, pulling her into a half-arm embrace as she slowly walked the petite girl out of her studio. “I know it’s a lot, but… just make some allowances, okay? She’s from a different world, and Harper’s trying to balance both. We all are.”

Ivy nodded, though her heart wasn’t in it. “I get it,” she said quietly. “But… can I take the rest of the day off? I can’t—” She hesitated, her voice trembling. “I just can’t focus right now.”

Kim frowned, her guilt deepening. “Of course, sweetheart. Go clear your head.” She gave Ivy’s arm a final squeeze as she left Ivy outside on the steps of her cottage porch before turning back to the crew in the artist's studio. 

As Ivy slipped away from the set, she failed to see Harper’s eyes following her every moment. Despite the easy way Harper was engaging with Avery, her focus seemed fractured, her gaze darting toward where Kim had pulled Ivy aside. Harper’s smile didn’t reach her eyes, and a tension in her jaw contradicted the scene they were staging.

Beneath Avery’s laughter and the weight of her arm resting possessively on Harper’s shoulder, Harper’s eyes lingered on Ivy and Kim. Harper’s knuckles whitened slightly where they rested on the throne, her polite facade straining as Kim pulled Ivy close to her side and walked the smaller girl out, making Harper’s heart race as she wondered where the two went, walking in such proximity. 

In the meantime, Ivy couldn’t look back. The moment felt too surreal and heavy, and all she wanted was to escape—to retreat to her bed, books, woods, or anywhere that wasn’t this gilded battleground of feelings she didn’t even know she had.

And yet, as she stepped out into the fresh air, the sting of Avery’s effortless dominance and Harper’s complicated expression lingered, echoing through her chest.