(Ivory's POV)
I didn't cry at the gates.
Not in front of his parents. Not when the boys hugged me tight, not when Jimin promised me photos and updates, not even when the gates slammed shut with a finality I wasn't ready for.
But I should have known it would hit the moment I stepped inside his penthouse. Our penthouse.
No... his.
His scent was still everywhere. The faint aroma of his cologne clung to the air like an embrace that refused to let go. His hoodie was draped on the back of the couch. The one he always wore when editing his demos. The one I always ended up stealing.
I stood there for a moment too long. Just standing. Breathing him in. Not ready to move.
But life doesn't wait for grief.
So I started packing.
I folded my dresses. Arranged my chargers. Stashed away the wine orders I was planning to check on from afar. I moved methodically, like if I focused hard enough, I wouldn't feel the emptiness settling into the spaces he once filled.
And then I saw it.
Tucked beneath my travel pouch.
A letter.
Two pages. Handwritten.
My fingers trembled before I even touched it.
I sat on the edge of the bed—the one we shared, the one we made love in just two nights ago—and unfolded the paper.
My Allegra,
By the time you read this, you're probably still trying not to cry. Or maybe you're already crying. Go ahead. Cry for me too. Cry as much as you need. And when you're done, babe, I want you to stand. Strong. Fierce. Unshakable.
Like the Ivory I fell in love with.
I didn't cry writing this, not because it didn't hurt. But because I know you'll cry enough for us both.
You've always been strong for the both of us. So let me be strong for you now.
I know what you're thinking—"Why didn't he say goodbye properly?" But that's the thing, love. I couldn't. If I looked back, if I held you any longer, I would've stayed. And I can't afford to run from this chapter of my life. Not even for you. No matter how much I want to.
You once asked me why I loved you. The truth is... I didn't have a choice.
You pulled me out of a storm when I didn't even know I was drowning. You laughed with your whole chest, like you hadn't been broken before. You held my hand like you meant it. Loved me like you weren't scared.
So when the distance becomes unbearable, and the nights too quiet—remember this: if the world gave me the chance to be taken from anything or anyone, I'd still choose to be taken from everything...
Anyone but you.
Cry now, babe. Cry for me too. But when you're done, get up. You have a flight to catch.
I won't be there to send you off... but I've sent someone who gets you.
But here's something you don't know yet: I've switched your flight.
Not to Iceland.
You're going to Italy, not back to that cold mansion alone. Your Mamma and Papa will be waiting. They'll hold you for me.
Take care of your heart. It's my home.
I love you, my yellow. My light. My warmth. My storm in Italian heels.
That fire-breathing rampage of yours? Keep it in check when men start hovering, okay? I'm counting on you to keep them all in a respectable five-foot radius.
You may not feel like it now, but I know you'll be okay. Because you're you.
And no matter how far I go, no matter how long this takes—
There will never be anyone but you.
I miss you already.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
Forever,
Your Jake. Always.
I didn't realize how tightly I was clutching the letter until the paper crinkled under my fingers. I pressed it to my chest. Held it like it was the only thing tethering me to him.
And then—
Then I cried.
The kind of cry that rips through your ribs and guts you from the inside. The kind that makes you curl up in sheets that still smell like his shampoo and skin. The kind that makes you want to scream, but you don't, because silence is the only thing that feels honest now.
I curled into his side of the bed. Clutching his letter. His ring cool against my chest.
Letting the night swallow me whole.
***
Yoongi was quiet the entire car ride. Not his usual grumbly self, not teasing or sarcastic. Just... present.
The kind of silence that was filled with care.
He carried my luggage and walked beside me through the terminal until we reached the boarding gate. I hadn't said much. What was there to say? My eyes were puffy, my throat raw, my hair was pulled up in a sad excuse of a bun. I hadn't slept.
"I look like shit," I muttered finally.
Yoongi chuckled softly. "Yeah. You do."
I snorted.
"But even like this, you're still the girl who dragged a broken man out of a black hole," he added. "You'll survive this, Ivory. Maybe not today—but you will. You're not just Jake's girl. You're Jake's rock."
That made me smile. A small one. But it was something.
"I'll miss you, Min Yoongi."
"I know," he replied, pulling me into a rare hug. Long. Solid. "But he'll come back to you. That I promise."
I nodded into his shoulder. Then I boarded the plane.
The seat was too big. The sky too vast. My heart far too hollow.
I clutched Jake's letter in my bag like it was oxygen.
The plane took off.
And everything unraveled.
Flashbacks came uninvited.
Jake's face the moment I told him I was coming with him to Korea.
His disbelief. His teary laughter. His endless poking—"Are you real? Is this a dream? Wait, I'm poking you again—ouch, you bit me—okay yeah, she's real."
The fury in his eyes when someone shoved me in the crowd, his protective arms wrapping around me instantly.
"You okay? Baby, talk to me—"
The gentle way he applied ointment to my bruised elbow that night. Like I was glass. Like he was afraid I'd break.
Every memory carved itself into my chest.
I turned to the window, biting my lip hard.
And then—
"Miss Ivory?" a flight stewardess whispered.
I blinked at her, startled. My eyes betraying me as tears fell.
She knelt beside me with a soft smile, even gave me a tissue. "Mr. Jake left us some instructions. He said... if you start crying, we're to offer you a sweet treat and a chilled champagne."
I choked on a laugh. Of course he did.
She placed a little cake in front of me, its icing carefully swirled into a tiny yellow sunflower. Then came the chilled glass of bubbly, and a soft eye mask and pillow.
"He also said... you're sensitive to light. And that you like to sleep curled up with an extra pillow. He made us promise to take care of you."
I could barely say thank you before the tears came again.
Even when he's not here, he's still holding me.
Italy.
The warm sun. The scent of lemons and rosemary. And my parents, standing at arrivals with a bouquet of bright yellow sunflowers.
Just like the ones Jake picked for me once in a local market—"These are for the sunshine in my life," he had said.
I rushed into their arms. Mamma kissed my forehead, Papa crushed me into a bear hug and whispered, "Welcome home, principessa."
It wasn't Iceland. It wasn't Korea. It wasn't our penthouse.
But it was home. For now.
That night, after a loud dinner filled with laughter and wine, after my papa tried and failed to do a TikTok dance for me, I finally slipped away to my childhood room.
I curled up in bed. The ring on my finger cold against my cheek.
And I recorded a voice message.
Voice Message to Jake:
"Hey, babe... I landed safely. Mamma and Papa met me with sunflowers. Your sunflowers. They somehow knew. Or maybe they just saw my face and knew what I needed. Or maybe you told them. Hm?
The plane was hard. But your letter... your instructions to the flight crew? God, Jake. You knew I'd fall apart and you tried to catch me even from far away.
You always do.
You always say 'anyone but you,' like I was the exception to your fear. Like loving me was a risk you were willing to take.
But it's me, Jake.
I'm the lucky one.
Anyone but you... would've never poked me five times in an airport. Or brought me cake on stage. Or held me so fiercely when I couldn't hold myself.
Anyone but you wouldn't have saved me from my loneliness. Or made me laugh with your stupid slide jokes. Or loved me with every bruise in your past.
I don't want anyone but you, either.
So come back to me, okay?
I'll be waiting.
I love you."