-missax-ivy Wolfe- Scarlett Sage - In Love With... -

They had just fallen in love in a place where nothing was supposed to be real.

“For the first time in my career,” Ivy breathed, “I’m not faking.”

“So did you,” Ivy replied, her voice softer than she intended.

Scarlett closed the distance. Her lips didn’t meet Ivy’s mouth. Instead, they pressed softly against the pulse point on Ivy’s throat—feeling the frantic, honest rhythm there. -MissaX-Ivy Wolfe- Scarlett Sage - In Love with...

She found her.

The rain filled the silence. Ivy reached out, her fingers trembling, and traced the edge of a sequin on Scarlett’s sleeve. “What if I’m not acting, Scarlett? What if I’m just… in love with the way you breathe before you speak? In love with the way you say my name like it’s a secret?”

“You ran,” Scarlett said. It wasn’t an accusation. It was a key, turning in a lock Ivy didn’t know she had. They had just fallen in love in a

But standing here, with the scent of Scarlett’s jasmine perfume cutting through the stale air, Ivy realized the tragedy wasn't fiction.

Scarlett Sage was sitting on an old prop trunk, her costume’s sequins catching the ghost of a distant streetlamp. She wasn’t drinking. She was just there , looking small despite the armor of her stage persona.

“I know,” Ivy whispered.

The rain was a persistent whisper against the studio window. Ivy Wolfe stood backstage, the velvet curtain a cool weight against her bare shoulder. She wasn't supposed to be here. Not like this. The after-party was in full swing on the main floor—clinking glasses, the hollow laughter of industry praise—but she had slipped away, seeking the quiet dark.

Ivy’s heart hammered against her ribs. So did I. She took a step closer. “What line was it?”

This was the MissaX moment—not the explicit, but the implied . The ache before the touch. The confession that lives in the space between a raised hand and a cheek. Her lips didn’t meet Ivy’s mouth