âJennifer, darling, youâre gonna have to work your magic today,â Ivy said with a playful wink, trying to lighten the mood.
Jennifer waved her hand dismissively, âOh, please, those dark circles under your eyes are nothing to fuss about. Your natural beauty saves me so much trouble on a regular day. Even after staying up all night, your skin still has a glow that the rest of us could only dream of. It just goes to show, some people win the genetic lottery.â
Ivy blushed a modest smile at Jenniferâs enthusiastic compliments. Jennifer was a bright and cheery young woman who never failed to shower her with praises whenever they met. Taking the compliments in stride, Ivy modestly accepted the praise.
By the time Balfour arrived on set, Ivy was just about finished with her makeup. His silent presence caught the crew off guard, as no one anticipated his arrival without so much as a heads-up. The more observant staff members quickly went to inform Colton of his arrival, while Balfour casually asked about Ivyâs whereabouts.
âMs. Dunhillâs in her makeup room,â someone informed him.
With swift strides, Balfour made his way to her makeup room, a place he knew all too well from his many visits. Inside, Jennifer and Ivy were in the midst of laughter when the door suddenly swung open.
The man who entered caught Jenniferâs eye, her gaze lighting up for a moment before she quickly averted her eyes upon recognizing him.
Ivyâs smile faltered.
Their eyes met in the mirror.
Balfourâs brow furrowed slightly.
She looked thinner-his immediate thought.
Despite the makeup hiding any signs of fatigue or puffiness, she looked refined but not overdone. Yet, he sensed a weariness in Ivyâs eyes, and even her smile didnât seem quite genuine.
Without a word, it was Ivy who eventually broke the silence, suggesting Jennifer step out for a moment.
âJennifer, I think weâre almost done here. Could you give us a minute?â Ivy said, her voice carrying a mix of request and command.
âSure thing!â Jennifer replied cheerfully, setting her brushes down on the table and slipping past Balfour with a nod, thoughtfully closing the door behind her.
Click. The room fell silent, leaving only Balfour and Ivy.
âIs this what you call taking care of yourself?â Balfour approached, lifting her arm to emphasize her frailty, her wrist noticeably slimmer than before.
Ivy, slightly irritated, withdrew her hand from his grasp.
âIâm losing weight for a role, nothing more. Arenât I sitting here, perfectly fine in front of you? How do you figure I canât take care of myself? What brings you here today, Mr. Howard, if I might ask?â
Balfourâs frown deepened. Despite Ivyâs attempts to mask her emotions, he detected a hint of anger and frustration in her tone.
He had respected her wishes for space, staying away from her dorm to give her the freedom she desired. He had done everything she asked, so why the hostility? Shouldnât he be the one to feel upset?
âWhatâs the matter? Does my presence displease you that much?â he asked, his voice a mixture of confusion and wounded pride.
Ivy scoffed, âOh, no. You are the mighty Mr. Howard, so who would dare to be unwelcoming? Itâs just that youâve come at an inconvenient time. Iâm about to shoot a scene, so I donât have time for chit-chat.
If thereâs nothing important, Iâd appreciate it if youâd leave.â
âWhy wonât you look at me?â Balfour pressed, seeking eye contact she seemed determined to avoid.