The sleek bck car glided into Harper's high-rise's underground parking garage, its arrival triggering a sequence of quiet, automated responses. A barrier lifted without hesitation, and the dimly lit space brightened briefly as the headlights illuminated Harper's reserved parking spot. The air was cool, carrying the faint metallic tang of the city as Harper slid the car into pce. She lingered momentarily, hands tightening around the steering wheel, before exhaling and stepping out.

  She rounded the car and opened Ivy’s door, her movements deliberate and unhurried, as though any sudden motion might shatter the fragile quiet hanging between them. Ivy moved slowly, her exhaustion evident in how she let Harper help her to her feet. Harper shut the door with a sharp click and locked the car, leaving the lone painting tucked safely in the backseat.

  As they approached the elevator, security guards nodded their acknowledgment. Cameras followed their movements with quiet precision. Harper swiped her bck card, and the elevator doors parted with a subdued chime. Inside, the mirrored walls reflected Ivy’s weary frame leaning slightly into Harper’s side, and the sterile glow of the city below filtered faintly through a small gss pane. Harper pressed the button to her floor and stood quietly, her arm brushing Ivy’s ever so slightly—a small anchor in the vast emptiness Ivy seemed to sink into.

  When they stepped into Harper’s apartment, the atmosphere shifted. The space was expansive yet warmly minimalistic—cool steel tones and gray offset by soft, golden mplight. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed a sweeping view of the city skyline, the streets below glowing in a consteltion of traffic and nightlife. Harper guided Ivy gently to the plush couch in the living room, her touch lingering on Ivy’s shoulder before she left her to rest.

  Moving to the bathroom, Harper began preparing a bath. She grabbed candles from a drawer, arranging them strategically around the wide porcein tub. Fake greenery from her storage closet found new homes on the counters and shelves, adding a sembnce of calm that contrasted with the sleek, modern lines of the space. She poured in fragrant bath oils and tossed in shimmering bath bombs, their pastel hues swirling and blooming like watercolors as they dissolved. Harper stepped back, surveying her work, and gave a small, satisfied nod before heading back to Ivy.

  Ivy sat exactly as Harper had left her, her gaze distant. Without a word, Harper knelt before her, sliding Ivy’s cardigan off her shoulders and easing her socks from her feet. The soft hum of the city outside was their only soundtrack as Harper helped her to her feet, guiding her to the bathroom with gentle insistence.

  “I’ll leave you to it,” Harper murmured, her voice low and soft. “Take your time.”

  Ivy nodded mutely, her movements mechanical as she undressed. Her cardigan and jeans nded in a pile on the tiled floor, and she tied her hair into a loose bun before stepping into the steaming water. The warmth enveloped her, and a low moan escaped her lips as her aching muscles began to unwind. She sank lower, letting the heat cocoon her, but the soothing effort was short-lived. Her gaze drifted to the candles, the pnts, and the small, careful details Harper had arranged. The weight of Harper’s kindness, juxtaposed against the destruction of her home, hit her like a crashing wave.

  Tears blurred her vision, and before she knew it, sobs were wracking her frame, loud and gut-wrenching.

  Harper was there in an instant. The door opened with a soft creak, and she crouched beside the tub, her brow furrowed in concern. “Ivy?” she called softly, her voice trembling with arm. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

  Ivy shook her head, unable to form words, her arms wrapping tightly around herself as she wept.

  The bathroom was dimly lit, the flickering glow of candles casting a soft warmth over the tiled walls. The air was heavy with the scent of vender, mingling with the faint sharpness of tears. Harper didn’t hesitate. Fully clothed, she stepped into the tub, the shock of cool water soaking her jeans and shirt as it sloshed over the porcein edge and spttered onto the floor.

  Ivy sat curled up, her knees drawn to her chest, trembling like a fragile leaf caught in the wind. Her damp hair clung to her flushed cheeks, her breaths coming in ragged gasps between sobs. Harper slid behind her, her movements slow and deliberate, not wanting to startle the smaller woman.

  Wrapping her arms around Ivy, Harper pulled her close, cradling her as though she were something infinitely precious. One arm draped over Ivy’s shoulders, her hand resting gently against her colrbone, while the other encircled her waist, anchoring her trembling form. Harper pressed a tender kiss to the crown of Ivy’s damp hair, her lips lingering as though to transfer her strength into the woman in her arms.

  “It’s okay,” Harper murmured, her voice low and steady, a balm against Ivy’s storm. “It’s fine. Cry as much as you need to, alright? I’m here. I’ve got you.”

  Ivy’s sobs came harder at first, a torrent of grief and helplessness that shook her body. Harper held her tighter, grounding her, her fingers stroking gentle patterns along Ivy’s arms, her embrace unyielding but soft.

  Gradually, the storm began to ease. The sobs quieted, becoming soft hiccups as Ivy melted into Harper’s warmth. The water had cooled, but Harper didn’t move or let go. The candlelight danced around them, shadows flickering on the walls like whispers of hope.

  When Ivy finally spoke, her voice was small and raw. “I… I don’t think I have a handle on everything right now.”

  Harper rested her chin lightly on Ivy’s shoulder, her voice a steady reassurance. “You don’t have to. Not tonight. Just lean on me. Let me take it all away, even if it’s just for a little while.”

  Ivy tilted her head back, her teary eyes meeting Harper’s. “How?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

  Harper didn’t answer with words. Instead, she leaned forward and captured Ivy’s lips in a gentle, tentative kiss. The warmth of the kiss contrasted the chill of the water, soft and slow, filled with unspoken promises. Ivy’s breath hitched, and she moaned softly, leaning back into Harper’s embrace as if it were the only pce she could feel safe.

  Harper’s hands roamed Ivy’s body, her touch featherlight and reverent, tracing soothing patterns over her arms, back, and sides. She massaged away the tension, her fingers kneading gently, drawing soft sighs from Ivy as the smaller woman rexed completely into her.

  When Harper broke the kiss, her breath was uneven, her eyes dark and searching. Ivy looked up at her, lips swollen and glistening, her eyes gssy and full of something Harper didn’t dare name.

  “We’re going to catch colds if we stay in here,” Harper said, her voice tinged with reluctant restraint. “Both of us.”

  Ivy’s lips parted, a soft whimper escaping as she clung to Harper. “Don’t stop,” she murmured, her voice pleading. “I don’t want you to stop.”

  Harper chuckled softly, the sound warm and low. She brushed a strand of hair from Ivy’s face, her thumb grazing her cheek. “I don’t want to stop either,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But this… this isn’t the pce for it. After dinner, I promise.”

  Ivy nodded dreamily, her trust implicit, her head falling back against Harper’s shoulder. Harper took a deep breath and gently unwound herself from Ivy, the loss of contact leaving a cold emptiness in its wake. She stood, water dripping from her soaked clothes, and stepped out of the tub, grabbing a towel to dry herself off.

  Stripping out of her wet clothes, Harper wrapped the towel around herself and left the bathroom. She returned moments ter, dressed in a snug bck singlet and sweatpants, carrying the smallest set of sweatpants she owned. She pced them on a stool near the tub.

  “Here,” Harper said, her voice soft. “Wear these when you’re done. They should fit okay. Take your time.”

  Ivy smiled faintly, her eyes regaining a flicker of their usual warmth. “Thank you… for everything,” she said, her voice ced with a sweetness that sent Harper’s heart racing.

  Harper swallowed hard, nodding quickly as she turned to leave. “I’ll be in the kitchen,” she said, her voice tight, the door clicking shut behind her.

  As she leaned against the door, Harper exhaled deeply, her heart pounding like a drum. The memory of Ivy’s touch, her gaze, her voice—all of it clung to her like a second skin, leaving her breathless. It took everything she had not to turn back or give in to the pull Ivy seemed to have on her.

  A part of Harper told her this was wrong. She was taking advantage of Ivy in her weakened, vulnerable state.

  Still, after tasting such sweetness and having her in her arms, her body against her in such sweet familiarity, Harper knew that she had crossed the line and nothing would hold her back.