LOGINIvy & LakeThe trees around the retreat had turned into a brilliant masterpiece of oranges, reds, and golds, as if nature itself had decided to show off for their big day. Ivy stood outside the same cabin where it all started—where fake kisses turned real and where awkwardness turned into aching affection. But today, there was no pretense. No fake titles. Just love, stripped down to its most authentic self.Maple leaves crunched under her shoes as she stepped out of the small dressing room, her dress simple but stunning—ivory satin that hugged her curves, with sleeves made of sheer lace that danced in the wind. She had no bridesmaids, no entourage. Just her.And Lake.He waited near the fire pit, their makeshift altar, dressed in a dark navy suit, his hair messy in that signature Lake Hart kind of way. A crooked smile curved his lips the moment he saw her. No one else existed in his gaze. Just Ivy. His bride.Their guest list was short. The couples from the retreat who’d stayed in tou
IvyIvy’s fingers trembled slightly as she held the hardback copy in her hands. The glossy cover reflected her reflection—older, wiser, with eyes that now carried the weight and wonder of someone who had lived through chaos and came out softer, not harder. The title shimmered in bold gold letters:How Pretending Helped Me Find Something RealBy Ivy MonroeShe exhaled deeply, sitting in the sunlit corner of her favorite café—the same one where she used to grade papers, sip overpriced lattes, and wonder if she was ever going to be enough for anyone or anything. The smell of espresso and cinnamon mixed with nostalgia, wrapping around her like a quiet reminder of how far she’d come.Now, across the room, a stranger sat reading her book. A woman with curly hair, glasses slipping down her nose, flipping through the pages like she was searching for herself inside them. Ivy’s cheeks flushed when the reader smiled at a line, lingered, then turned the page. Something about that quiet, private c
LakeThe cabin looked different now—warmer, more lived-in. There were flower boxes blooming under the windows, wind chimes tinkling on the porch, and a new sign out front carved with care: The Creative Love Retreat.Ivy stood barefoot in the grass, her clipboard tucked beneath one arm, a warm cup of herbal tea in the other. Her auburn hair was pulled into a messy bun, a pencil stuck through it like an afterthought. Behind her, the scent of cinnamon and pine wafted from the open kitchen window, where a new batch of pumpkin muffins baked. It was the first crisp week of September.Autumn had returned. And so had they.Lake emerged from the woods, flannel rolled at the sleeves, arms full of firewood. His smile was lazy and real. No more armor. No more facades. Just a man in love, finally comfortable in the skin of his own truth."How’s the group holding up?" he asked, setting the logs into the wooden basket by the front steps.Ivy sipped her tea and glanced at the meadow, where five new c
IvyThe leaves had started to drift lazily from the trees, as if the world itself was exhaling after a long, hot summer. The retreat had thinned out, only a few couples still lingering in the golden haze of autumn mornings. The main lodge was quieter now. No more scheduled activities. No more fake smiles. Just real moments.Lake and Ivy sat on the porch swing of their cabin, bundled in a shared blanket, a thermos of cinnamon-spiced cider between them. The air was crisp enough to make them lean into each other for warmth. Her head rested lightly on his shoulder, and his hand gently stroked the top of hers, fingers tracing invisible shapes.For a long while, they didn’t speak. The silence was comfortable now—no more pretending, no more awkward tension, just the kind of silence that settles between people who have been through something together.“I never liked autumn,” Ivy said finally, her voice soft, almost a whisper.Lake looked down at her. “What changed?”She tilted her face up, ey
LakeThe sun had barely kissed the horizon when Ivy and Lake stepped out of the cabin, hand in hand, into the golden splendor of the surrounding woods. Autumn had arrived in all her glory—fiery red leaves scattered like love letters across the earth, amber sunlight spilling through branches, and a crisp breeze that nipped playfully at their skin."This place looks like a fairytale," Ivy whispered, fingers interlaced with Lake's.He glanced down at her, those hazel eyes catching hints of gold from the sun. "You look like one."She rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her. "That’s dangerously cheesy.""Dangerously accurate," he countered.They walked in silence for a while, the kind of silence that doesn’t feel empty—just peaceful. The retreat had emptied out now that the program had officially ended. Couples had departed with their prize money, their improved relationships, or their dramatic exits. Ivy and Lake had stayed behind a little longer, with permission. Maybe to breathe. Ma
IvyThe leaves had thinned, golden light flickering through bare branches as the retreat neared its end. The forest had quieted, too—just the hush of a wind that whispered stories only the trees could translate. Ivy stepped out of Lake’s truck, her boots crunching the gravel of the familiar cabin path. She stared at the doorway that had once led to tension, lies, and a hundred breathless moments. Now, it feels different.It felt like closure. Or maybe... something entirely new.Lake stood beside her, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, eyes on her like she was the only thing grounding him to Earth.“You sure about this?” he asked, voice low, cautious.Ivy looked up, the wind brushing her hair back like even nature wanted to see her face when she answered. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m ready to go back... and finish what we started. The real way.”He smiled, and it wasn’t the cocky, teasing grin she’d grown used to. This one was gentler. Earnest. Beautiful in a way that made her heart







