Kim’s voice was uncharacteristically soft the following day when she called Harper that morning. “Ivy’s not feeling well today,” she said. “We’re canceling the shoot. Just wanted to give you a heads-up.”

Harper frowned, already slipping on her sneakers. “Is she okay? Did she say what’s wrong?”

“Just said she’s sick. I think she’ll be fine after some rest.” Kim hesitated, then added, “Don’t bother her, Harper. Let her recover.”

But as soon as the call ended, Harper grabbed her keys. She couldn’t sit still, knowing Ivy wasn’t feeling well. The idea of her curled up alone, sick and miserable, didn’t sit right with her.

Harper also hadn’t been able to have a moment to chat with Ivy the previous day as Avery had monopolized her time, and because it was a paid shoot, Harper had to go along with it, allowing herself to be dragged off for a paid dinner with the entire crew and most of Avery’s staff after the shot had ended.

By the time Harper got home, she was beat and had decided to call it a night. She decided to check in with Ivy the next day during their next shoot. 

Harper decided to head to the supermarket first to pick up some fresh food and medicine if they sold any. The supermarket was bustling with mid-morning shoppers, and Harper quickly found herself in the spotlight. Fans approached her excitedly, snapping selfies and chatting about her latest shoots, but she kept focused. She politely greeted everyone and allowed them to take pictures; however, she also quickly made a beeline for the items on her grocery list. Once she paid for her groceries, she quickly left the store, wanting to get to Ivy as soon as possible. 

With instant soups, cold medicine, pre-cooked chicken breasts—her go-to comfort food—chocolate and ice cream, Harper left with bags full of options.

Her heart lifted slightly as she imagined Ivy’s reaction to the care package. Maybe she could make her smile, even if just a little. Harper drove toward the cottage, humming to the radio, preparing to see a cozy little scene—a sick but endearing Ivy bundled up under blankets.

But as she pulled up to the driveway, her heart dropped.

The picturesque cottage, always pristine and warm, was in ruins. Toilet paper hung from the trees like ghostly tendrils, eggs had been hurled at the walls, their rotting stench wafting through the air, and crude graffiti marred the once-charming facade. Harsh slurs and curse words painted in ugly strokes defiled the cottage, the vibrant colors clashing grotesquely against the soft hues of Ivy’s home.

Harper slammed on the brakes, throwing the car into the park and rushing toward the house. The grocery bags were forgotten in the back seat, as she rushed to the door.

“Ivy?” she called, banging on the front door. The silence was deafening.

Panic clawed at her chest as she circled the house, knocking on windows and shouting Ivy’s name. “Ivy! It’s Harper! Are you in there?”

When there was no response, Harper grabbed her phone and called Kim back. “I need Ivy’s number,” she demanded, her voice trembling.

“Why? What’s going on?” Kim’s alarm was clear.

“Just give it to me.”

Moments later, Harper was dialing Ivy’s number, her fingers shaking as she pressed the call button.

It rang twice before a faint, broken voice answered. “H-Hello?”

Harper exhaled sharply. “Ivy, thank God. Where are you? Are you okay?”

The sound of Ivy sniffling punctuated a long pause. “I’m…fine. Harper? Is this your number?

“Yes, and I’m at your house. Where are you?”

There was a pregnant pause before Ivy spoke again.

“Y-You’re at my house…oh god, I…didn’t want you to see it like this,” Ivy said, a quiet sob breaking her soft voice.

Harper’s heart clenched at the sound of Ivy’s soft cries.

“Ivy, where are you?” Harper asked again, firmer and tense.

“U-upstairs. In the studio. Don’t come in the house.”

“I’m already here,” Harper said firmly. “Tell me how to get to you.”

Reluctantly, Ivy gave her directions to a hidden staircase tucked behind the studio’s side door. Harper sprinted there, wrenching open the creaky door of a silo that was at the far end of the house, barely visible from the front, and ascending the narrow staircase two steps at a time.

At the top, she found Ivy curled up in a small, dimly lit space that smelled faintly of paint and wood polish. A makeshift bed of blankets was piled in the corner, and a cold plate of shepherd’s pie sat untouched on a nearby table. Beside her was Harper’s portrait, carefully propped up as though it offered some measure of comfort.

“Ivy,” Harper breathed, kneeling beside her.

Ivy looked up, her face streaked with tears and pale from exhaustion. “I didn’t want you to see…” she whispered, her voice cracking.

Harper’s heart broke at the sight. Without a word, she pulled Ivy into her arms, holding her close as the scene's weight settled over them. Ivy clung to her, her sobs muffled against Harper’s shoulder, and Harper stroked her hair gently, murmuring soothing words she wasn’t sure Ivy could hear.

“It’s going to be okay,” Harper whispered, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. “I’m here now. We’ll figure this out together.”

For the first time since arriving, Ivy let herself truly cry, and Harper stayed with her, steadfast, promising silently that she wouldn’t let anyone hurt Ivy again.

++

Harper cradled Ivy against her chest, feeling the artist's frail body tremble with each heart-wrenching sob. The small room felt oppressive, but Harper focused entirely on Ivy, her anger simmering beneath the surface. She kept stroking Ivy’s hair, murmuring soothing sounds, waiting for the storm of tears to subside enough for Ivy to speak.

Finally, Ivy’s voice broke through, quiet and shaky. “They came… last night. I don’t even know who they were.” She hiccupped, her breath hitching as more tears spilled down her cheeks. “They screamed… called me names. Said I was… disgusting… and worse.”

Harper’s grip tightened instinctively, her jaw clenching. “What names?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous.

Ivy shook her head, unable to repeat the words. Her hands gripped Harper’s shirt, knuckles white. “They wanted me to come out… they pounded on the doors. Threw things. Eggs, I think. And…” She swallowed hard. “I was so scared, Harper. I thought they might break in.”

“They didn’t, though,” Harper said firmly, pulling back just enough to look into Ivy’s tear-streaked face. “They didn’t get to you.”

Ivy sniffled, nodding faintly. “I grabbed your painting… I thought… they might destroy it if they got inside. It was the only thing I could think of. I just ran up here and hid.”

Harper cupped Ivy’s face, wiping away the tears with her thumbs, her expression darkening. “You hid here all night?”

Ivy nodded again, her voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t even sleep. I just… waited for them to leave.”

Harper’s heart ached, but anger became hotter, sharp and unrelenting. “And no one came to help you?”

“No one,” Ivy said, her voice breaking. “Not until you showed up.”

Harper let out a slow, measured breath, trying to rein in the rage coursing through her. “You should’ve called Kim,” she said, her voice softer now, though still tinged with steel. “She or I would’ve been here in a heartbeat.”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Ivy admitted, her gaze dropping in shame.

“Bother me?” Harper’s voice rose slightly, then softened again as she pulled Ivy closer. “Ivy, you’re not a bother. Ever. I don’t care what time, where I am, or what I’m doing. If you need me, you call me.”

Ivy hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.”

Harper pressed a kiss to Ivy’s head, her lips lingering. “I’m going to take care of this,” she said firmly. “No one gets to do this to you. No one.”

“There’s nothing to be done,” Ivy whispered. “I don’t even know who they were.”

“Do you have cameras?” Harper asked sharply, already forming a plan in her mind.

“There’s… one,” Ivy admitted. “But it’s old, and the footage is grainy. You can’t see much.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Harper said, determination blazing in her eyes. “I’ll take a look at it. And if I can’t figure it out, I’ll hire someone who can. We’re going to find out who did this.”

“But Harper—”

“No buts.” Harper’s voice was firm but not unkind. She cupped Ivy’s face again, making her look up. “This is your home. Your sanctuary. They don’t get to take that from you. I won’t let them.”

Tears welled in Ivy’s eyes again, but this time they were different—less fearful, more overwhelmed. “Why are you doing this for me?”

Harper’s gaze softened, but the fire in her tone didn’t waver. “Because you’re mine to protect, Ivy. Whether you know it yet or not.”

Ivy’s lips parted in surprise, but no words came. She let herself lean into Harper’s embrace, feeling the weight of her fear slowly lift as Harper’s strength wrapped around her like a shield.

“I promise you,” Harper murmured, her voice low but steady. “No one will ever hurt you like this again. I’ll make sure of it.”

Ivy nodded, finally letting herself believe Harper’s words. In that moment, she felt safe—not because the world had suddenly changed, but because Harper’s arms around her made it seem like it could.