Chapter 20 My Lifeline
A week later, Christian sat in Ivy’s office, waiting for her. Both had almost fully recovered from the accident.
With Ivy back at work, Christian had come to pick her up. Since she was busy, he had made himself comfortable in her chair, leaning back with his eyes closed, waiting patiently.
When Ivy finally finished and entered her office, he straightened at the sound of her footsteps.
She walked up to him, placing a hand on the desk for support. "Christian, let that woman out of jail," she stated.
Christian looked up, meeting her gaze.
"She has sick parents," Ivy explained softly. "She’s the only child in her family. You need to let her go. Give her another chance to do better."
Christian suddenly reached out, gripping her waist. In the next second, he pulled her onto his lap, securing his arms around her, one hand on her waist and the other on her thigh, keeping her close.
"Why would I do that?" he asked, his voice low.
Ivy looked up at him, her hands gripping his suit.
"I just told you the reason," Ivy replied. "It might’ve been her first mistake because she was under pressure, or depressed or something. Let’s not ruin someone’s entire future over a single mistake."
Christian’s brows lifted. "It wasn’t a mistake, Ivy," he said, his voice dangerously cold. "She tried to murder you.”
Ivy took a deep breath. "I know. But her parents..." she murmured. "And she’s regretting it right now. We should give her another chance, maybe?"
"Ivy." His voice was steady, carrying both warmth and warning. "I can give up anything for you and give you everything you want. But you are my lifeline. My limit. If anyone dares to hurt you, I won’t let them go—no matter who they are or what they have."
His hand lifted, cupping her face with a gentleness that contrasted the steel in his words. Then, he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss on her lips.
"Don’t ask me of this, alright?" he murmured against her lips, his voice low.
Ivy, who had been tense just moments ago, felt herself melt under his words. Then, she nodded in acceptance.
As they walked out of the office, Christian refused to let go of her hand despite her subtle attempts to pull away. She didn’t want to attract attention from her colleagues, but he wouldn’t budge. His car was waiting outside, and as they approached it, he opened the door for her, helping her get in.
"Ivy?"
She turned around at the familiar voice, only to find her parents standing there.
They looked at her in surprise, their gazes shifting from Christian’s firm grip on her hand and waist to the way he stood so close to Ivy.
Startled, Ivy immediately stepped out of the car, rushing to them. "What are you guys doing here?"
Her mother, Patty, was the first to answer. "We were around here, so we thought we could have dinner with you."
Her gaze slid past Ivy, landing on Christian just as he came to stand beside her. "Who is this young man?"
Ivy hesitated, about to brush off the question, but Christian interjected smoothly, extending his hand. "I’m Christian Evans, Mrs. Watson. Hello."
Patty shook his hand, followed by Ivy’s father, Adam.
Christian smiled politely. "I’m Ivy’s boyfriend."
Ivy stiffened instantly, her gaze snapping to Christian in shock. They had agreed not to reveal their relationship, yet here he was, exposing it in front of her parents. A jolt of panic shot through her, but as the moment passed, relief settled in—at least he hadn’t said ‘her husband’.
Knowing Christian, that word must be sitting on the tip of his tongue, held back with sheer force.
Patty beamed, and even her father smiled approvingly. "How about you come to our house for dinner, then?" Adam suggested.
"Dad, maybe some other day—" Ivy started, but Christian nodded before she could finish.
But Christian nodded without hesitation, turning slightly to offer them the way. "My car is here. Let’s all go together."
Ivy had no choice but to follow them, though she shot Christian a scowl. Clearly, this wasn’t what she wanted.
Christian, noticing her reluctance, leaned in closer, his warm hand sliding into hers again. "They were going to find out sooner or later. It’s the same thing," he murmured.
She still glared at him.
Dinner at Ivy’s house was peaceful. Their apartment was small but cozy, nestled in a quiet area. It was the place Ivy had spent her entire life.
As they talked over dinner, her parents bombarded Christian with questions about his career, and his life in general. By the time the meal ended, they seemed happy with him.
Later, Ivy and Patty stepped out to buy a few things, and Adam got busy with some papers. Meanwhile, Christian, left to himself, wandered inside the house, eventually stepping into a bedroom.
Ivy’s scent lingered in the air. Photos of her were scattered across the walls—capturing her from childhood to the present. His lips curled into a soft smile as he moved closer, tracing his fingers over the frames. Little Ivy was just as adorable as the Ivy standing beside him now.
His gaze then landed on a photo album resting on the table. He picked it up and sat on the bed, flipping through the pages. The pictures chronicled Ivy’s life from her teenage years to young adulthood.
But then—his hands froze.
Among the pages, tucked between pictures of Ivy, was a photo that didn’t belong to her.
It was him.
A photograph of himself from five years ago.
The picture was taken from afar but was remarkably clear. He was smiling at something, completely unaware he was being photographed.
Surprised, he pulled the photo out, studying it closely. Then, casually flipping it over, his breath hitched.
On the back, in red ink, were the scribbled words:
‘I’m in love with Christian Evans.’
A small heart was drawn next to it.
Christian’s entire body went still. His heart pounded, his pulse quickening. A rush of emotions—thrill, happiness, shock—electrified every inch of him.
Just then, Ivy’s voice drifted from outside.
"I’ll place these in the kitchen, Mom. You can go rest now."
Snapping out of his daze, Christian quickly slipped the photo into his pocket, stood up, and walked out of the room.
When he entered the hall, Ivy’s parents had already disappeared into their bedroom, leaving just the two of them. She was in the open kitchen, quietly unloading vegetables from the bag, completely unaware of the storm brewing behind him.
A startled gasp escaped her lips, but he didn’t loosen his grip. One hand pressed firmly against the wall beside her head, the other securing her waist, holding her in place. His face was pale, but his eyes burned with something raw. Something she couldn’t quite name.
"Ivy," his voice was low, strained. "Were you in love with me five years ago?"
A beat of silence passed before she turned her head away, avoiding his gaze, her fingers trembling against his chest. Then, with forced indifference, she pushed against him.
"I don’t know what you’re talking about." Her voice was flat, but a hint of unease seeped through. "Have you started imagining things?"
His grip tightened.
His fingers pressed into her waist, pulling her closer until there was barely any space left between them. Then, without a word, he reached into his pocket, pulling out the photograph.
He held it up in front of her.
"Then explain this." He growled, his patience wearing thin. "Ivy, tell me the truth."
The photo, and the confession written in red ink on the back, stared back at her.
Her heart pounded violently against her ribs as panic surged through her. She barely thought. Her body moved on instinct.
Forcing her face into cold indifference, she pressed her hands against his chest and shoved hard. He stumbled back a step, just enough for her to snatch the photo from his grasp.
Before he could react, she tore it apart, the pieces fluttering to the ground between them.
"It’s just a picture I liked. Nothing more." Her voice was clipped, her expression carefully composed. "Don’t overthink it."
She swallowed hard and pushed past him, but he caught her wrist.
She yanked free with a sharp shove, putting enough distance between them before storming out of the kitchen. Her hands trembled as hurried out of the kitchen, her body shaking with every step.
It wasn’t easy to forget him. Why did he keep bringing up the past, tormenting her over and over again?
That picture... it was the one she had taken when she first fell for him.
It was the first month of her internship.
She was just an intern back then, and every day, Christian would leave a kiwi on her desk for her to eat while talking to her. But she had never eaten it. The other colleagues would usually take it instead.
Then, one day, she had been sitting with some colleagues when she picked a piece of kiwi from a bowl without thinking and ate it.
She hadn’t realized that Christian had been watching from his office.
The next moment, he had marched straight out, grabbed her in front of everyone, and dragged her inside his office.
His fingers clenched into fists, his face dark with anger. His gaze flicked between her and the man outside whose kiwi she had eaten.
"When I bring it for you daily, you never eat it. But when someone else brings it, you take it straight from his hands?" His voice was laced with jealousy, his eyes burning. "Ivy, do I repulse you that much?"
Frozen, she had glanced between him and the man outside, realizing that Christian was on the verge of doing something drastic if she didn’t explain herself.
"I-It’s not that," she had stammered, twisting her fingers nervously. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and hesitated before explaining. "I just… Kiwi skin is prickly. It hurts my fingers when I hold it. That’s why I never ate it." She swallowed hard. "I avoid it at home too because I can’t peel it myself."
At once, all the anger drained from his face.
He let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing as a tense laugh escaped his lips. It was as if he had been holding his breath, waiting for an answer that would let him breathe again.
Then, in a single step, he had closed the distance, his hand cradling the back of her head. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against her forehead, whispering, "I’m sorry."
That was the first time her heart had raced for him. The first time she had realized how much his touch electrified every inch of her.
It was her first kiss from him.
He was her first love.
And now, five years later, he had found out.
After that day, he would always bring her cut-up kiwi. Not just that—every fruit he brought was always sliced neatly into small pieces, arranged properly in a bowl with a fork, served as if it were a meal. It always made her laugh a little.
And it was only a few days later that she caught a rare sight—his smile. It was so uncommon that she had secretly taken a picture and kept it with her.
A few days later, she had scribbled those words on the back of that picture, keeping it by her pillow, staring at it for hours every night with star-struck eyes.
But then… he disappeared.
He vanished from her world without a single word. No call. No explanation. Just rumors—rumors that he had left the country to live abroad.
Slowly, those star-struck eyes that once held dreams of him were swallowed by darkness for five long years.
Now, seeing the picture again, all it did was ignite a searing pain in her chest. A burning reminder of how deeply she had loved him and how effortlessly he had left, as if she had never existed in his world.
It was laughable.
If he ever found out, he’d probably laugh about it too. After all, a young girl, barely twenty-three years old, had taken his flirting so seriously that she had fallen madly in love with him. So madly that when he disappeared, her world had collapsed in an instant, and darkness had replaced all the happiness she had ever known.
So, she flung the ripped pieces of that photo into the air, watching them scatter across the floor with a cold, indifferent face. Then, without a second glance, she stepped past him and walked away.
Christian’s anger burned as he watched her leave.
If she loved him, why wouldn’t she admit it? Was it all just a joke to her?
His jaw clenched. He bent down, picking up the torn pieces of the picture she had ripped apart. Then he carefully slid them into his suit pocket.