Chapter 3: Some People Are Just Meant to Be

Ivy's POV

Five months in, and I'm lying in Alexander's bed at three in the morning, watching him sleep.

His face is softer like this. Guard down. The lines around his eyes have smoothed out.

I'm thinking about the future—our future. Joint research papers. Moving in together. Maybe even... marriage.

Marriage.

The word keeps popping into my head more and more lately. It used to terrify me. Now it just feels inevitable.

My mom met Alexander once at some academic fundraiser. She pulled me aside afterward, eyes bright. "Finally found someone who can handle you."

I laughed it off then. But now I'm wondering if it's not about him handling me—maybe I just want to be handled by him.

Friday morning, I book us a beach hotel. Two nights, just the two of us. Alexander actually agreed to take time off, which is basically a miracle.

I even buy a new swimsuit.

An hour before we're supposed to leave, his phone rings.

I watch his face change—relaxed to tense, smiling to serious, all in about five seconds.

"I'm sorry." He hangs up and won't meet my eyes. "Something came up. I have to deal with it."

My stomach drops. "Surgery?"

He looks away. "It's complicated. I can't explain right now."

"What do you mean you can't explain?"

"I just... I need to handle this. I'll make it up to you."

He doesn't say what it is. Doesn't say who he's meeting.

Just grabs his coat, kisses my forehead like that's supposed to fix everything, and walks out.

I'm left standing there with my weekend bag and that stupid new swimsuit.

This keeps happening.

Olivia's name lights up his phone at the worst possible times.

Every single time—his body goes rigid first, then his face does this complicated thing, and then he says "I need to take this" and walks somewhere I can't hear him.

Last week, he picked me up for dinner.

I'm putting my bag in the back seat when I see them. White roses. A huge bouquet, at least two dozen. Fresh, like he just bought them.

I pick them up. No card.

"For a patient?" I ask, trying to sound casual.

He's buckling his seatbelt, and he pauses. Just for a second. "For someone who needs them."

"Oh."

I put the flowers back.

The entire dinner, I'm thinking: Who needs roses? He's never given me roses. Just that one orchid, right at the start.

Saturday night, Alexander's parents invite us to dinner.

"Family thing," he says. "You'll meet my cousin James."

I spend two hours picking an outfit. End up in a bohemian maxi dress with boots.

The second I walk into the restaurant, I know I screwed up.

Every woman in the Hunt family is wearing tailored suits or elegant cocktail dresses. Pearl earrings, sensible heels, hair styled just so.

And then there's me—deep red hair, tattoo peeking out from my sleeve, statement earrings dangling.

I look like I wandered in from a music festival.

Alexander's mother is polite. His father is polite. But I can feel them sizing me up. That "is she good enough for our son" look.

After dinner, the men go off to smoke cigars or whatever rich people do.

I'm standing on the terrace with a glass of wine, feeling completely out of place.

"How long have you and Alex been together?"

I turn around. A guy in his late twenties, sharp suit, holding whiskey. He looks a bit like Alexander, but younger. Colder, somehow.

"Five months," I say. "You must be James."

"That's me." He nods slowly, like he's thinking something over. "Five months. That's actually pretty long for him. After Olivia, he hasn't really... well, you know about Olivia, right? They almost got married."

My fingers tighten on the wine glass. "Yeah. I know. But that was before."

James sighs, and for a second he looks like he's debating whether to say something.

"Before?" He finally speaks, voice lower. "Olivia's back. You know that, right?"

My heart sinks. "I've noticed."

"Look, I grew up with Alex." James takes a sip of his drink. "I've never seen him be so gentle with anyone the way he was with her. And now, he still drops everything for her. Honestly, Ivy, I think some people are just meant to be together. Doesn't matter what happens in between."

I force a smile. "You think?"

James looks at me, and there's almost pity in his eyes. "I'm not saying you're not great. You're obviously attractive, smart, all that. But Alex needs stability. Someone who gets his career. That's why Olivia left—she couldn't handle it. But now she's grown up, she understands him. I just..."

He stops.

"I just want you to know, if he has to make a choice eventually, it's not your fault. Some people are just meant to be together."

I manage to say "I get it" before excusing myself to the bathroom.

Standing in front of the mirror, I stare at myself.

The dyed hair. The tattoo. The not-quite-elegant dress.

James is right.

I never belonged here in the first place.

The next day, a massive package arrives at my lab.

Equipment. High-end spectrometer, microscope, complete analysis kit.

Has to be at least six figures.

I call Alexander. "Alex, this is too much."

His voice is calm. "Your research deserves the best tools."

I'm staring at all this expensive equipment.

Remembering what James mentioned in passing: "When his ex left, he gave her a lot too. Like he was trying to make up for something."

Is that what this is?

Compensation for what's coming?

Friday night. Hospital charity gala.

I'm standing in the ballroom in a red dress, but Alexander's running late.

I'm alone with champagne, watching couples everywhere.

Then I see him arrive.

There's a woman next to him.

Elegant black dress, perfect posture, her hand resting on his arm like it belongs there.

Olivia.

Everyone's looking at them, whispering.

"They look so good together..." "Finally back where they belong..."

I watch as Olivia reaches into her purse and pulls out a velvet box. She opens it—an antique watch.

She stands on her toes, fastens it around his wrist.

People start clapping.

"That's the Hunt family heirloom..." "He only gives that to the woman he's going to marry..."

I turn and walk toward the exit.

At the door, I can't help looking back.

Alexander's frowning, saying something to Olivia. Then he sees me, eyes going wide.

But before he can do anything, I'm already gone.

Standing outside in the cold night air, I wrap my arms around myself.

"Toxic plants die in winter," I whisper. "So do toxic relationships."