âWeâre just friends,â Ivy said, offering nothing more on the subject but a smile as she glanced at her reflection in the mirror.
Jonah sensed that Ivy wasnât keen on delving deeper into the nature of their relationship, so he dropped the topic. He smiled and proceeded to apply her makeup with great care.
As Ivy watched her transformation unfold bit by bit in the mirror, it all felt a bit surreal.
Throughout her childhood, she had never worn anything fancy. Every time she saw Clara twirling in a pretty frock, envy welled up within her. However, she didnât dare to hope for such things for herself, knowing they were beyond her reach. âMom, tomorrowâs my birthday. Can I have a pretty dress like Claraâs?â Ivy asked, her eyes brimming with hope as she looked up at Tessa, only to be met with her motherâs dismissive tone.
âWhat do you need a fancy dress for? Havenât I bought you plenty of T-shirts? Be content, Ivy. Stop comparing yourself to your sister.â
Eight-year-old Ivy never got the dress she longed for.
Now, dressed in the gown she had always dreamed of, the excitement Ivy would have once felt was conspicuously absent.
Perhaps when you yearn for something so deeply and it remains out of reach, its eventual acquisition loses all meaning.
After over two hours of grooming and styling, Ivy emerged in a gown personally selected by Balfour, stunning even the seasoned Quinton, who was accustomed to seeing beautiful women.
Ivy usually kept to simple attire, rarely bothering with makeup, and even then, it was just the basics.
Quinton had always noticed her striking features but had not anticipated the dazzling transformation that had taken place. She was now the kind of radiant beauty that stood out in any crowd.
âQuinton, do I look okay? Isnât this a bit too much?â Ivy, not accustomed to formal wear, was visibly nervous. Even her posture betrayed her lack of confidence.
Quinton stood with a reassuring smile. âIvy, you look stunning. Letâs go. Balfour will be waiting at the venue. But first, letâs grab a bite. You wonât want to eat much at the reception, and itâll run late. Canât have you starving.â
After a quick stop at a fast-food joint for a stomach-lining snack, Quinton escorted Ivy to the reception venue.
Learning that Balfour had already gone inside, he suggested Ivy head in to find him.
âBy myself?â Ivy hesitated at the entrance, feeling out of her element, âWhat if I canât find him?â
Quinton, noticing her apprehension, reassured her. âDonât worry, Ivy. Just head in and youâll spot Balfour. Heâs surely waiting for you inside.â
âWell⦠okay then.â Ivy sighed with resignation, faced the imposing doors of the reception, and took a deep breath. âIâll go in by myself.â
Stepping through the doors in her heels, Ivy handed over her invitation to the reception staff and slipped inside.
The venue was bustling with guests, but Ivy, moving with the flow, didnât draw much attention.
Looking around, she tried to locate Balfour, but his absence was starting to unsettle her.
Wasnât he supposed to be waiting?
Where could he be?
She navigated through the crowd, searching for the familiar face.
âMiss, do you need some assistance?â A man in a black suit approached her with a friendly smile. âAre you looking for someone? Iâd be happy to help you find them.â
Ivy stepped back cautiously, eyeing him warily. âNo thank you, Iâll manage. Please excuse me, I need to get by.â