𝐏𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨́𝐧 𝐈𝐯𝐲

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒𝟎. {𝐓𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝}

Author's Pov
Armani had managed to stay up all night after discovering that Ivy had released a book about her life. The entire book was a storm of emotions—intriguing, heartbreaking, and happy all at once. However, it was also incredibly confusing. It was clear that Ivy had found someone else, but it was equally apparent that Armani was being pursued within the pages. The most troubling part was that Ivy never clearly distinguished her love for either person, leaving it ambiguous who she loved the most.

What they had was undeniable, but over time, the memories of their relationship had faded into a tarnished recollection for Armani. It felt as though their bond was merely a figment of her imagination, and she despised that feeling.

The way Armani was dwelling on the situation, you wouldn't have guessed she was the one who ended their relationship. However, Armani didn't want to see Ivy follow her path. Before meeting Armani, Ivy had a normal life, something Armani never had. She wasn't, and still isn't, normal. She wants Ivy to be better, not like her. Armani's greatest fear was seeing Ivy lose herself in the same way she had.

No matter how long Armani had spent in the mental asylum, she hadn't improved. In fact, she had never felt a stronger urge to take from others than she did now. However, one thing she did learn while being there was self-control. Turning herself in was solely because she wanted to get it over with, so there would be no barriers between her and Ivy's relationship. But now, what good did that do?

Instead of finding peace, she felt more conflicted than ever, questioning whether her sacrifice had been worth it. The walls she had hoped to tear down seemed to have only grown taller, leaving her more isolated from Ivy than before.

But despite that, Armani was determined to turn the page to a blank sheet and rewrite their story.

Armani sighed deeply, slipping the perfectly rolled blunt into her mouth. She fished out the lighter with Ivy's initials, 'I.M' engraved on it, its metallic surface glinting in the dim light. Bringing it up to the tip of the blunt, she flicked the wheel, sparking a small, dancing flame. The fire licked the end of the blunt, and she watched as it began to burn, the paper curling slightly. Armani took a sharp, slow draw, feeling the smoke fill her lungs as she sucked in all the oxygen she had.

She held it for a moment, savoring the sensation, before removing the blunt and exhaling a thick, swirling cloud of smoke.

"Other than you, I missed this the most," Armani muttered to herself, scrolling through Ivy's recent posts on Instagram. She referred to the freedom of a blunt as she chuckled, tilting her head. She clicked on a post of Ivy standing in front of a mirror, wearing nothing but an oversized white button-down shirt, thigh-high socks hugging her legs perfectly, and holding a clear cup of red wine that probably cost as much as an average person's rent.

One thing that caught Armani's eye was Ivy's new haircut. Her perfectly messy hair now stopped just above her shoulders, with bright blonde highlights that brought a fresh vibrancy to her face. Ivy looked even more mature than the last time Armani saw her. She had always gave grown woman, but now she truly embodied the physical characteristics of someone confident and comfortable in her own skin.