Chapter 9
Ivy swallowed down the bitterness clawing at her throat, forcing her expression into one of quiet vulnerability,
She lowered her gaze, her voice soft and filled with carefully measured concern.
“Atlas, I’m just worried about you,” she murmured. “You haven’t eaten or slept in days. This isn’t good for you. I believe Celeste will come back–she just needs time.”
The mention of her name made the shadows in Atlas Whitmore’s eyes darken.
His jaw clenched.
“Ivy,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “From now on, let’s not see each other anymore. I don’t want any more misunderstandings.”
Ivy’s breath caught. Her head snapped up, disbelief flashing in her eyes.
“Atlas, we’ve known each other for so many years. How can you just cut me off like this?”
But he wasn’t even looking at her. His gaze remained fixed on the wedding portrait in front of him.
The image of Celeste and him, forever frozen in time.
“This should have ended a long time ago,” he continued, his tone devoid of warmth. “You’re married. And I’m married, too. I can’t keep hurting Celeste.”
He exhaled slowly, like a man who had finally stopped lying to himself. “I love her. I can’t lose her again.”
The words were like a slap to Ivy’s face. Something inside her snapped.
“No!” she shrieked, her voice raw with desperation. “Atlas, I’m the one you love! It’s always been me! For over a decade, it’s always been me!”
Her breathing was ragged, her carefully composed mask crumbling.
“You don’t love Celeste,” she spat, her voice shaking. “You just “pity* her! Don’t you see? She doesn’t love you either! You know who she really loves-”
She stopped herself abruptly, her chest heaving.
Atlas stared at her, his brows furrowing slightly. For the first time, he saw Ivy–not as the unattainable woman he had once chased after, not as the person he had once put on a pedestal–but as someone desperate.
Desperate to hold onto him.
Does Ivy love him? The thought struck him as odd.
Because if she truly had, why had she chosen to marry someone else?
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Seven Years of Love, Seven Minutes f
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Chapter 9
For years, he had been the one following her like a shadow, always waiting, always hoping. And Ivy had never stopped him—because she had loved his devotion, his attention, the way he worshipped her.
But now, looking at her–Atlas no longer understood her at all.
A sudden *buzz* from his phone broke the silence. A message from his assistant. Two video files.
Atlas tapped on them.
They were grainy hospital footage–an angle from a dimly lit stairwell.
His hand clenched into a fist so tightly his knuckles turned white.
The video ended. A suffocating silence filled the air.
Slowly, he turned to Ivy.
His voice was so cold, so void of warmth, that it sent a shiver down Ivy’s spine. “Do you have anything to say for
yourself?”
