Mag-log inThat night, she tried to sleep but couldn't.The apartment was too quiet. Too empty. The bed felt wrong without him. The silence pressed down on her like a physical weight.She got up and went to the kitchen, poured herself a glass of water, stared at it without drinking.Her phone sat on the counter, dark and silent. She'd turned off notifications so she wouldn't be tempted to check if Damien had messaged again.But she wanted him to. God, she wanted him to.She wanted him to call and demand that she come back. Wanted him to be possessive and controlling and refuse to accept her running. Wanted him to show up at her apartment and drag her back to New York and force her to deal with the consequences of her choices.Because that was the Damien she knew. That was the man who always got what he wanted.But this version of Damien, the version who respected her choices and took care of her from a distance and let her go, was somehow more devastating.She went back to the living room and sa
The taxi pulled away from Fiumicino Airport, leaving Lyra behind in the chaos of the arrivals hall.She stood there for a moment, her suitcase beside her, completely disoriented. Around her, travelers moved with purpose, families reuniting, businessmen rushing to meetings, people who knew where they were going.Lyra had no idea where she was.Or rather, she knew where she was geographically. She was in Rome. She was back in the city that had been her sanctuary once before, when she was twenty and running away from her life in New York.But emotionally, she was completely lost.She pulled out her phone and ordered an Uber, watching as the app calculated the distance to her apartment. Seventeen minutes away. She'd lived there for two years before moving back to New York. She'd once bult a life here before.The apartment was hers. She'd kept it when she went back to the States. Had paid the rent every month even though she wasn't there, because some part of her had known that she might n
Then she lay curled up under the blanket Damien had made sure was the best quality, in the seat he'd made sure was private, on the flight he'd made sure she could afford, and she stared out at the clouds below.And understood, with perfect clarity, that she'd just made the biggest mistake of her life.But it was too late now.The plane was carrying her away, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.***Damien sat inside his car parked ourside the penthouse, his phone in his hand, staring at the message Lyra had sent at 12:47 AM. The one where she'd told him she was leaving. The one he'd responded to with ice in his voice and coldness in every word.He'd meant every word of it.Or he thought he had.A black car pulled up beside him, and Marcus stepped out. His expression was carefully neutral, the look of someone trained to hide emotion.The driver who'd been waiting in the car with Damien exchanged places with Marcus. Marcus got into the backseat where Damien was already sitting
The silence that followed was absolute.Victor looked at his daughter, his expression a mixture of confusion, heartbreak, and resignation.Lyra looked at her mother, waiting for her to say something. To tell her not to go. To tell her that everything would be okay.But Isabella kept her eyes on her plate, her jaw still clenched, her shoulders tense.The connection they'd had for just a moment, when her mother had defended her against Karla was gone.Replaced by silence.By distance.By the reality that even a mother's love had limits. That even love could be tested beyond its breaking point.Lyra turned toward the door where the maid was waiting with her suitcase."I'm sorry," she whispered, though she wasn't sure if she was apologizing to her mother or her father or both of them.Victor didn't stop her.He just stood there, watching his daughter leave, and said nothing.***The morning air was cold as Lyra stepped out of the house.Maria was beside her, carrying her suitcase, her exp
The morning light was harsh and unforgiving.It filtered through the dining room windows in sharp rays that seemed to illuminate every crack in the family's foundation, every fracture that had been created over the past few days.Isabella sat at the head of the table, her coffee untouched in front of her. She looked smaller than she had before the hospital. Diminished. Like the weight of everything had physically pressed her down. She was dressed impeccably, as always, but there was no life behind her eyes.Victor was reading the morning paper, though Lyra could tell he wasn't actually absorbing any of it. His hands were slightly trembling as he turned the pages. Karla was eating with deliberate precision, her movements sharp and calculated, her expression carrying that familiar smugness that Lyra had come to hate.None of them looked up when Lyra appeared at the top of the stairs with her suitcase.But the sound of the wheels rolling across the marble floor drew their attention.She
Damien's first message came at 12:58 AM.DAMIEN: Wait for me. Wait for tomorrow's meeting. Trust me to make this right. Please, Lyra.Lyra stared at the words on her screen, her phone illuminating her face in the darkness of her room.She read them three times. Four times. Couldn't bring herself to respond.His second message came two minutes later.DAMIEN: Lyra? Answer me.Then a third, almost immediately after.DAMIEN: Don't do this. Don't run. Call me.She didn't call. Couldn't call. Didn't know what she would say if she heard his voice.Her phone rang.Damien.She stared at the screen, watching his name flash across it, her entire body trembling. Her thumb hovered over the answer button.She pressed it."Damien," she whispered."Lyra." His voice was sharp, controlled, but there was something underneath it. Something that sounded like fear. Like desperation. Like the mask was finally starting to crack. "Don't hang up.""I...." she started, but the words got caught in her throat.Sh
Her phone screen glowed accusingly in the darkness, her shameful confession staring back at her. With shaking hands, she minimized the app and clutched the phone to her chest, heart hammering so hard she thought it might break through her ribs.Footsteps on the stairs.Light, measured and feminine.
Lyra's fingers trembled as she typed, the blue glow of her phone the only light in her darkened bedroom.LyraNight: I thought about him again today. God, I'm so fucked up.She held her breath, waiting. The three dots appeared almost immediately....her anonymous stranger always responded, no matter
Lyra set her phone down with shaking hands and stood up.Her legs felt weak, her body hypersensitive. Every movement of fabric against her skin made her gasp.She walked to the full-length mirror in her room and looked at herself.Her hair was disheveled from the flight and the stress. Her face was
LYRA POV:The plane touched down at JFK with a jolt that matched the anxiety thrumming through Lyra's veins.She'd barely slept during the flight, her mind spinning with questions her mother refused to answer over the phone. Urgent. Family matter. Need you home. The words had echoed through her hea







