Semua Bab Plain ivy? No more!!: Bab 11 - Bab 20

Author's pov The car ride back home was really quiet. And it was not the soft and peaceful kind of quiet. It was the kind where there was tension sitting in the air between them like a ticking time bomb. Ivy was staring out the window, her arms crossed and her jaw locked so tight, it looked like it could cut through diamonds. Liam glanced at her once, twice and then gave up after the third time when all he could feel from her was air colder than the AC. They walked into the penthouse, with her heels clicking and door slamming shut behind them. And then..... "You know, I’m surprised you managed not to crawl back into Bianca’s lap," Ivy said, dropping her clutch on the counter like she was done pretending. Liam blinked. "Excuse me?" "During dinner," she continued, turning to face him. “You let that woman, that step mother of yours, insult me. You let her undermine everything I’ve built. And you sat there like a mute puppet." Liam groaned, pulling off his jacket. "Not thi

When they finally got upstairs to the photography studio, the photographer was already almost done setting up and after making sure they were okay from the elevator hanging, he rushed them to go get changed. "You two look so perfect together," the stylist chirped as she helped Ivy adjust her dress and get her makeup touched up. "You are giving powerful, passionate and glamorous, I mean you are the queen of fashion so that's to be expected. This photoshoot will definitely give us the 'It Couple energy'." The stylist kept on chattering away as Ivy's mouth twitched.She replied dryly "I don’t do passion."Liam, who was already dressed and casually lounging in his chair nearby, grinned in their direction. "No kidding."She gave him the side eye and just ignored him as she stood from the makeshift vanity in the dressing room.Her emerald silk dress fit like a dream. It was backless, with the slit high enough to make anyone unable to turn away. Her hair fell like soft waves, her makeup sh

The ride home felt like someone had sucked the air right out of the car. Liam could feel a sense of dejaVu as Ivy sat with her whole body angled towards the window, her arm was draped over her lap as she pretended like the glittering skyline outside was the most fascinating thing in the world. Meanwhile, Liam leaned back against the seat, one of his arms stretched lazily over the top, his eyes locked on her like he was studying an art piece he couldn’t figure out. "You pulled away," he finally said, his voice low. She didn’t look at him. "Wow, your observation skills are on point." she said dryly. "You were going to kiss me." Her lips curved with a cold smile, "No, Calloway. I was posing for photograph we were literally being paid to take." He leaned in slightly, just enough that his cologne drifted toward her. "You’re lying." "And you’re delusional." Liam’s smirk was there, but his eyes searched her face like he was trying to catch the flicker she was hiding. "I still

Liam's pov Something was very wrong, And it was not the loud kind of wrong, it was not dramatic wrong either....just quiet wrong.That kind of wrong that you feel in the pit of your stomach but you're unable to explain why or what exactly is wrong.Ivy wasn’t slamming doors or firing off sarcastic remarks like usual. She was still polite and civil. She still kept the facade of my upcoming "Mrs. Calloway" in public and the usual "Ivy" at home.But there was something missing.She no longer lingered in a room with me anymore. She didn’t even look at me unless she absolutely had to. And her voice, it was clipped, measured. Even our usual back and forth bickering and snark was gone, it was replaced with… nothing.And I hated it.It has been like this for days, and I was losing my mind trying to figure out whatever the hell I had done.Could it be the dinner with my family? No, after the argument that night we still went along as usual. Then was it the gala? No, she was in full Ice Queen

One thing about Ivy Monroe is that she never made things easy. I had made her congee when she was sick, I had stayed up half the night while checking her temperature every now and then to make sure her fever has passed, I even set an alarm to make sure she took her meds. And still, still she managed to look at me like I was one of the problems she had to manage instead of someone who just made her breakfast.And maybe I was.Hell, I actually was. But watching her that morning, barefaced and looking all sleep-rumpled in a silk camisole, as she leaned against the kitchen counter while the steam curled off her bowl, I couldn’t even remember why I was supposed to hate her. Her voice had been soft when she said, "Thanks… for this."Just two words. That was all.But I kept on hearing them anyway. The Calloway Family Brunch was the exact kind of pretentious crap I hated, champagne at eleven a.m., gold-plated flatware no one actually needed, and too many fake smiles in one room. Normall