Chapter 24— Unwelcome Shadows
Lyra's POV
The evening air is warm but sticky, and I'm sitting on the balcony with my sketchbook, pencil moving slowly across the page. Lines and curves, nothing finished, nothing perfect — just shapes that let me pretend I'm normal again for a few moments.
I hear the faint hum of a car pulling up the street, distant but unmistakable. At first, I ignore it. The city has cars passing all the time. But then… the engine stops. And there's a sound I can't ignore — voices.
My chest tightens. I drop the pencil, my hand trembling.
I lean over the railing, eyes scanning the street.
It's them.
Evan. Soraya. Saphira. Aveline. Cassian. All of them. Standing in front of Lola's house.
My stomach flips. My first instinct is to retreat — to disappear back into my room and pretend I never saw them. But the sight of them frozen there, hesitant, waiting… something in me falters.
They haven't noticed me yet. I step back silently, pressing my body against the doorframe, watching them. Evan's hands are shoved deep into his pockets, but his eyes scan the house frantically, like he's searching for me. His expression shifts from panic to guilt, back to panic again.
Saphira is bouncing on the balls of her feet, whispering to Soraya. I can't hear their words, but the tension radiates from them in waves. Cassian looks awkward, awkward in that way only he can be, and Aveline's jaw is tight, like she's bracing for impact.
I want to scream. To yell. To tell them to leave. But I don't. Something keeps me frozen — fear, curiosity, maybe the smallest spark of hope.
Finally, Evan looks directly at the balcony. Our eyes meet. My chest constricts. He swallows, his mouth opening like he wants to say something, but no words come.
I turn away, pressing my hands to my face. I don't want to see him. Don't want to hear him. Don't want to feel the way my stomach knots at the sight of him.
I hear the faint scrape of shoes on gravel as they shuffle. Maybe they're leaving. Maybe they'll give me space.
But then a voice calls softly, almost pleading. "Lyra… please…"
I flinch. My fingers grip the edge of the balcony railing. My heart pounds like it wants to break through my chest.
Another voice. Soraya, I think. "We just… we need to explain."
"I don't want explanations," I whisper to myself. My voice cracks. "I don't want them. Not now. Not ever."
But curiosity, that dangerous, foolish thing, draws me toward the sliding door. I peek outside, only a sliver, enough to see their faces — guilt, worry, desperation. Evan's hands are clenched at his sides. His eyes meet mine again, and there's something there I can't name. Sadness? Fear? Something that hurts almost as much as betrayal.
I step back. My room feels too small, the walls closing in. I need air. I grab my sketchbook and run toward the small garden behind the house.
They don't follow immediately. I hear footsteps, but I don't look back. I sit on the grass, hugging my knees to my chest, letting the cool blades press against my skin. My hands are shaking. My heart is racing.
"You don't have to talk to us," Evan's voice calls out, careful, soft. "Just… let us stay here. Please. I need to see you."
I swallow hard. "I don't want to see you." My voice is stronger than I expected, though it shakes. "I don't want to hear you. I don't want… anything from you."
"Lyra…" His voice cracks now, desperate. "I know we hurt you. I know. But we didn't mean… it… I didn't… please."
I shake my head violently. "It doesn't matter! You lied! You all lied! Four years of my life, and it was… a bet? A stupid bet! I don't want to hear you justify it!"
There's a pause, then a faint sound — someone else whispering. Probably Soraya. They're talking to each other now, quietly, like I can't hear. "We have to make her understand… she has to know it wasn't just me."
I curl tighter into myself. It doesn't help. Nothing will help.
Evan steps closer, cautiously, still a few feet away. "Lyra… just… please don't shut us out completely. Let us… let me… I need you to hear me. You mean everything to me."
I laugh bitterly, bitter and hollow. "Everything to you? Everything? Was I everything when you were planning a bet to replace someone else?"
He freezes. I can see the guilt in his eyes, in the way he's frozen mid-step. His lips part, but no words come.
I stand slowly, brushing dirt from my jeans, staring at him. "I came here to say goodbye, in person, for the month," I tell him quietly. "I don't want to see you again until I decide it's safe to… think about you without falling apart."
Soraya exhales sharply, Saphira bites her lip. Evan opens his mouth. I ignore him.
I turn and walk back toward the house, up the steps, and into the safety of my room.
I hear them linger outside for a few more moments, then the footsteps retreat, leaving me alone with my pounding heart and quiet tears.
I sink onto the bed, the sketchbook open in my lap. The pencil trembles in my hand, but I start drawing anyway — not for them, not for anyone, but for me.
And for the first time in hours, I let myself breathe.