Eliana sat perched elegantly on the edge of the marble kitchen stool, legs crossed at the ankles, her sharp brown eyes studying Ivy with a silence that didn't quite feel comforting after Ivy had told her everything that happened.
Ivy had just finished wiping her tears, her face blotchy and tired despite the layers of foundation still clinging to her skin. Her breathing had evened out, but the tension around her shoulders remained coiled like a spring.
Eliana tilted her head. "So… what's your plan now? Stefan asked you to leave. Are you just going to stay here and risk him throwing you out for real?"
Ivy looked up, startled at how blunt her friend sounded. But then again, Eliana had always been that way—direct, fearless, and sometimes a little too sharp. Still, Ivy needed that sharpness now. She needed someone with fire beside her, not another whisper of doubt.
