The shoots were every other day, so Harper had the luxury of a slow morning. She woke up to her phone buzzing incessantly, a cascade of notifications pulling her from her dreams. Blinking against the soft glow of the screen, she smiled as she saw the comment sections on her latest posts. Fans were going wild, shipping her with Ivy in an almost obsessive frenzy. Some had even started brainstorming cosplay ideas, sharing sketches of themselves dressed as “Harper and Ivy.”

Harper chuckled softly, lying back against her pillows as she scrolled through the fan art and giddy commentary. It was surreal, almost intoxicating, to see how much people adored them—together.

Curiosity nudged her, and she navigated to Ivy’s account. What were her fans saying? She wondered if Ivy was basking in the same glow of positive attention.

But as Harper scrolled through Ivy’s comment section, her smile faded. The comments weren’t playful or supportive. They were... mean.

“She’s not even Harper’s type. Seriously, why her?”
“Ugh, such a plain Jane. Harper deserves better.”

Further down, the tone shifted from dismissive to lewd.
“I could be the Harper to your Ivy 😉.”
“Forget her. Come collab with a real influencer.”

Harper’s stomach churned. She sat up abruptly, her fingers trembling with a mix of fury and disbelief. She tapped on one of the more suggestive comments, her thumb hovering over the reply box. She wanted to scream into the void—declare for all the internet to see that Ivy wasn’t just some pawn in their fantasies.

But as her thumb hovered over the send button, reason broke through the haze of anger. She deleted the comment with a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through her hair.

Harper dialed Kim without a second thought.

“Harper? It’s early—”

“Have you seen Ivy’s comments?” Harper’s voice was sharp. “Because I just did, and it’s disgusting. Look, I’m sending you screenshots now.”

Kim muttered something under her breath as her phone dinged. “Hold on...” The line went quiet for a moment, then Kim sighed, irritation coloring her tone. “Alright, yeah. Some of these are pretty bad, but Harper, this is social media. You know how fans can be.”

Harper gritted her teeth. “Yeah, I know how they can be, but that doesn’t make it okay. Ivy didn’t sign up for this. You dragged her into it when you pushed the whole domestic angle, and now look! She’s the one taking the hit.”

“Okay, okay,” Kim said, clearly trying to placate her. “I’ll handle it. Let me call Ivy and check in.”

Harper exhaled slowly, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. “Thanks, Kim. Just... don’t let this slide.”

After they hung up, Kim wasted no time dialing Ivy. The phone rang a few times before Ivy’s soft, hesitant voice answered.

“Hello?”

“Ivy, it’s Kim. How are you doing this morning? Have you seen... well, the comments?”

There was a long pause before Ivy replied, her voice quiet but tight. “I saw some. It’s... a lot. I didn’t know people could be so mean.”

Kim’s jaw clenched. “I’m sorry, Ivy. This is on me. I pushed you into the spotlight, and now these trolls are out here acting like they have a right to say anything about you.”

“I’ll be okay,” Ivy said, though her voice wavered. “It’s just—I’ve never had this much attention before. And some of the things they’re saying... it’s hard not to take it personally.”

Kim softened, guilt prickling at her. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this. I’ll handle it. First thing, I’m taking over your accounts and bringing in a social media manager. They’ll clean up the comment sections and filter out the garbage so you don’t have to see it. I’ll also help you with content uploads from now on. You focus on your work, Ivy. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Ivy hesitated. “That’s... kind of you, Kim. But I don’t want to feel like I’m losing control of my own page.”

“You won’t,” Kim promised. “I’ll work with you directly. In fact, why don’t I come by later today? We’ll figure out a system together. You’re too talented to let these trolls get to you.”

A few hours later, Kim arrived at Ivy’s cottage, her usual brisk energy tempered with a rare gentleness.

“Ivy,” Kim began as they sat down in the cozy living room, “I don’t want this situation to scare you off. You have something special here—your art, your personality—it’s magnetic. But with the spotlight comes a certain level of... exposure.”

Ivy hugged a throw pillow to her chest, her eyes fixed on the floor. “I don’t mind the spotlight, but this... this feels different. Like they’re not even seeing me, just some idea of who they think I should be.”

Kim nodded, her expression uncharacteristically soft. “You’re right, and that’s why I’m stepping in. Let me handle the noise so you can stay true to yourself. I’ll act as your manager, just for now. I’ll help you curate your content and make sure your page reflects you, not what anyone else thinks you should be.”

Ivy looked up, uncertainty clouding her amber eyes. “Do you think it’ll help?”

“I know it will,” Kim said firmly. “But more importantly, I think you’re worth protecting. You’re not alone in this, Ivy. Harper’s furious about what’s happening to you, and so am I. Let us take some of the weight, okay?”

Ivy’s lips twitched into a small, grateful smile. “Okay. Thank you, Kim.”

As Kim left the cottage later that afternoon, she couldn’t shake the nagging thought of Harper’s anger. Harper hadn’t been this riled up since... well, since ever. It was more than professional frustration—it was personal.

And if there was one thing Kim had learned about Harper, it was that she didn’t let people into her heart lightly.