The Grave They Dug For Her

Ivy POV:

I watched the old groundskeeper shuffle away, his curiosity satisfied for now. Clayton still stood there, a statue of disbelief, clutching those pathetic plastic lilies. The silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken years and festering wounds.

He finally moved, tossing the lilies carelessly onto the grass, their faded petals a sad splash of color against the damp earth. His eyes, though still bloodshot, hardened with a familiar anger.

"How dare you?" he spat, his voice low and dangerous. "How dare you show up here like nothing happened? Five years, Ivy! Five years we thought you were dead! Did you enjoy watching us mourn you? Did you enjoy making us feel guilty?"

Guilty? The word tasted like poison in my mouth. I almost laughed. "Guilty?" I echoed, a cold amusement in my tone. "You thought you were guilty?"

He flinched, his jaw clenching. "Of course, we did! My God, Ivy, you were gone! We had a funeral, a grave for you!" He gestured wildly towards the tombstone. "Do you know what that did to me? To Ainsley? To your family?"

My family. The pain of those words, the memory of his betrayal, was a dull throb in my chest. I remembered the last time I saw him, really saw him. It was a blur of flashing lights and twisted metal, a frantic struggle to breathe.

"You called me from the hospital," I said, my voice barely a whisper, yet it cut through the air between us. "My leg was shattered, my ribs broken. The doctors weren't sure I'd make it."

He recoiled, as if struck. "I... I know. It was terrible, Ivy, truly."

"Terrible?" I laughed then, a harsh, brittle sound. "You told me you couldn't come. You said you had 'other obligations.' You said you were sorry, but Ainsley needed you more."

The words tumbled out, each one a sharp shard of memory.

Flashback

"Clayton, please," I rasped, my throat raw. The hospital room smelled of antiseptic and despair. "I'm scared. They said I might not walk again."

His voice on the phone was distant, strained. "I know, Ivy. I'm so sorry. I truly am. But Ainsley… she's having such a hard time with all this. She needs me to be strong for her. Daddy Donnell is already so stressed with the wedding plans."

"The wedding plans?" I choked out, tears stinging my eyes. "Clayton, our wedding is still weeks away. And her wedding to you is tomorrow!"

He sighed, an impatient sound. "It's complicated, Ivy. You know how Ainsley is. So fragile. This whole accident just sent her over the edge. She needs me to be there tomorrow. For the dress fitting. For the rehearsal dinner. She can't do it without me."

"But I'm dying, Clayton!" I screamed into the phone, my voice cracking. "I'm dying, and you're choosing her over me! You're choosing Ainsley, the woman who stole my engagement ring, the woman who told everyone I was faking my injuries for attention!"

There was a long silence. Then, his voice, cold and devoid of any warmth. "You know what, Ivy? Maybe it's better if you just… disappear. Ainsley deserves happiness. Real happiness. Not this drama you constantly bring. Just go. Go to hell for all I care."

End Flashback

"Go to hell," I repeated, my gaze fixed on him. "Those were your exact words, weren't they, Clayton? 'Go to hell.' I just took your advice."

His face was a mask of confusion, then anger. "That was just… hyperbole! I was stressed! We were all stressed! You were always so dramatic, Ivy. Always making everything about you." He ran a hand through his hair, looking me up and down. "But look at you. You… you look good. Actually, you look incredible. New clothes? New haircut? Is this some kind of sick game? You faked your death to get back at us, didn't you? To make me feel bad?"

He stepped closer, a smirk forming on his lips. "Well, it worked. For a while. But Ainsley and I are happy. Really happy. You haven't ruined anything." He gestured vaguely towards the tombstone. "If this is your big comeback, trying to make me regret it, you're too late. Look, Ivy, if you want back in, maybe we can talk. Ainsley's always had a soft spot for you, despite everything. But you' ll have to apologize. For this stunt. And for disrupting her peace."

I couldn't take it anymore. The audacity, the self-pity, the sheer delusion. "You are truly pathetic," I said, my voice dripping with disdain. "I didn't come back for you, Clayton. I didn't come back for Ainsley, or Dexter, or Donnell. I came back for my mother. And nothing else."

I took a step past him, heading towards the cemetery exit. "Do yourself a favor, Clayton," I called over my shoulder, not bothering to look back. "Pick up those plastic lilies. They suit you better than any real ones ever would."

I heard his choked gasp, but I kept walking. I wasn't going to let him pull me back into that toxic swamp. Not anymore.