Linda smirked when she caught the flicker of shock on Lyra's face. But instead of pulling away, she clung tighter to Casian, curling her arms around him like she belonged there.
"Lyra," Casian breathed, his voice low, laced with disbelief.
For a second—just one—he froze. And that second was enough for the image to carve itself into Lyra's memory like a brand.
Then he snapped out of it.
Casian jerked back, ripping himself from Linda's grasp. She stumbled, eyes wide with fake hurt, breath hitching as if she hadn't expected rejection.
His gaze flew to Lyra—scanning for emotion. Hurt. Rage. Anything.
But she didn't move. Didn't cry. Her expression didn't crack.
She stood tall and composed—her silence screaming louder than any words could.
"I—I'm sorry," Linda stammered, quickly wiping away a single tear that had no place on her face. "I didn't mean to… I only came to apologize, Casian."
