Chapter 10
Ethan
Morning comes too early.
I barely slept, too aware of Ivy three feet away, too anxious about having finally told her the truth, too terrified of what happens now.
She's still asleep when I get up. I grab clothes as quietly as possible and escape to the bathroom.
Under the shower spray, I let myself process what I did last night.
I told her everything. The ultimatum. The threat. My feelings.
Three years of secrets, exposed in one conversation. A conversation I didn’t think would happen, but the weight was killing me. Having her so close to me, eager to kiss her was crazy, and I told her anything.
She said she didn't believe me, but she also said she understood and that maybe she could hate me less.
It's more than I deserve. More than I hoped for.
But it's also not enough. Because understanding isn't forgiveness and until she forgives me, if she ever does, there's no path forward for us.
When I come out of the bathroom, Ivy's awake. Sitting up in bed, looking at her phone.
"Morning," I say carefully.
"Morning." She doesn't look at me. "We need to be downstairs for breakfast in twenty minutes."
"Right. I'll be ready."
She disappears into the bathroom, and I hear the shower start. Use the time to check my own phone.
Multiple missed calls from my mother. Texts from my father demanding I call back.
I delete them all without reading.
Whatever consequences are coming from my conversation with them, I'll deal with it later. Right now, I need to focus on surviving this trip without making things worse with Ivy.
The company visit goes smoothly. NovaShop's headquarters are impressive, modern office space, enthusiastic employees, executives who actually seem excited to talk to us about competitive strategy.
Ivy and I work together professionally. Taking notes, asking questions, comparing observations. To anyone watching, we're model partners. Colleagues who respect each other's work.
No one would guess that last night I confessed I've been in love with her for nearly a decade.
During lunch, she finally speaks to me directly about something other than the project.
"I've been thinking about what you said. About your parents."
My heart rate spikes. "And?"
"And I want to see the proof. The emails, the texts. Whatever evidence you have."
"Okay. I can show you tonight—"
"No. Now. I need to know if you're telling the truth or if this is just another manipulation."
I pull out my phone and open the folder I've kept for three years. Screenshots of text conversations with my mother. Emails outlining their demands. A voice recording from the night they gave me the ultimatum.
Handing my phone over to her.
She reads through everything silently. I watch her face change, shock, anger, something that might be understanding.
When she's done, she hands the phone back without a word.
"Ivy—"
"Not here. We'll talk tonight. After the presentations."
She walks away to join the other students, leaving me standing alone with my proof and my guilt and no idea if showing her helped or made things worse.
That evening, back at the hotel, we finally talk.
We're sitting on opposite sides of the bed, our usual positions now and Ivy is quiet for a long time.
"Your parents are monsters," she says finally.
"I know."
"And you should have told me. We could have fought them together."
"I was eighteen and terrified. I made the wrong choice."
"You did." She looks at me. "But I understand why you made it. That doesn't make it okay. But I understand."
"What does that mean? For us?"
"There is no us, Ethan. That ended three years ago when you chose them over me."
"I chose your family's survival—"
"No. You chose the easy path. The one where you didn't have to stand up to them. The one where you hurt me to spare yourself conflict." Her voice is firm but not angry. "And I get it. You were young. Scared. In an impossible situation. But you still made a choice and that choice has consequences."
"So that's it? You understand but nothing changes?"
"What do you want me to say? That knowing the truth erases three years of pain? That I suddenly forgive you and we can go back to being friends?"
"I want—" I stop. What do I want? "I want a chance to prove I've changed. That I'm not that scared eighteen-year-old anymore. That I'd make a different choice now."
"Would you?"
"Yes. Absolutely. I'd tell them to go to hell and I'd protect you. Properly. Not by destroying you to save you."
She studies me for a long moment. "I believe you, but that doesn't mean I trust you. Trust has to be earned and you haven't earned it yet."
"How do I earn it?"
"I don't know. But constantly showing up everywhere I am isn't it. Neither is stealing my coffee or undermining me in class." She crosses her arms. "You say you love me, but your actions have been controlling and manipulative. That's not love. That's an obsession."
The word hits hard. Because she's right.
"You're right. I've been awful. I was trying to force you to see me, to acknowledge me, and I was doing it in the worst possible way."
"Why? Why not just... talk to me? Like you did last night?"
"Because I'm a coward. Because it's easier to make you hate me than to risk telling you the truth and having you decide it doesn't matter.
" I meet her eyes. "Because if I'm honest and you still hate me, then I have to accept that I destroyed the best thing in my life permanently and I'm not ready for that. "
"So instead you torture both of us."
"Yes. Which is fucked up and selfish and everything you think it is."
She nods slowly. "At least you're self-aware."
"For whatever that's worth."
We sit in silence. Outside, I can hear other students in the hallway, laughing and talking. Normal people having normal college experiences.
"I need time," Ivy says finally. "To process this. All of it. The truth about your parents. Your feelings. Everything."
"How much time?"
"I don't know. Maybe the rest of the semester. Maybe longer." She looks at me. "But I need you to actually back off. Not the half-assed version where you still show up everywhere. Actually give me space."
"Okay."
"And you need to deal with your parents. Set boundaries. Figure out who you are without their control."
"I'm working on it."
"Work harder." She lies down, turning away from me. "And Ethan? If you really love me the way you say you do, you'll respect what I'm asking. You'll give me space and time and let me figure out what I feel without pressure."
"I will. I promise."
"You're good at making promises. Let's see if you're good at following through."
She turns off her bedside lamp, and the room goes dark.
I lie there, staring at the ceiling, replaying the conversation. Wondering when she’ll let me kiss her, because the moment I saw her that’s all I’ve thought about.
She understands. She believes me. She's giving me a chance, not to win her back, but to prove I've changed.
It's more than I deserve and I'm terrified I'll fuck it up.
But for the first time in three years, there's a path forward. Narrow, uncertain, fraught with obstacles.
But a path nonetheless and I'll take it.
Even if it means waiting. Even if it means giving her space when all I want is to be near her.
Even if it means proving myself over and over until she decides I'm worth trusting again.
I'll do it.
Because she's worth it.
She's always been worth it and maybe, eventually, I'll be worth her too.