ARESI did not trust them, no matter how hard I tried. For Lyra, I really did try. Every time I looked at her father, I remembered the night she lost the baby. I remembered her screams, the blood, the grief. The way she had clutched her stomach as though she could somehow hold her child inside her through will. I remembered carrying her, feeling utterly helpless.Now I was expected to sit across from the man who had played a part in that suffering and call him family? No, I was not that generous. As for her mother, I did not know what to make of her. She appeared out of nowhere, carrying answers and regrets, speaking about prophecies and hidden truths as though years of absence could simply be explained away. I watched her carefully, always, because people do not disappear from their child's life and suddenly return without reason. There was always a reason.Still, I kept my opinions to myself because Lyra looked happy. Not entirely happy, there was still grief in her eyes, still fear
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