Chapter 27- First Day Back
Lyra's POV
The morning feels heavier than I expected. Lumera slips away behind me, streets and plazas fading as the city recedes, replaced by the familiar skyline of Saint Valley High. Everything about this place should feel normal. Should feel like home. But it doesn't. Not yet.
The school looms large, the familiar gates casting long shadows over the asphalt. My stomach knots as the bus stops, and I step down. Memories hit me immediately: the first day I transferred, the whispers, the stares, the awkward smiles that hid judgment. I shiver, gripping my backpack straps like a lifeline.
I remember them. Evan, Soraya, Saphira... whispering as I walked through the gates. Their eyes flicking toward me, calculating. Had that been the day they made me "the backup"? The day the bet started? The thought twists in my chest, sharp and bitter, but it's tempered by the memory of - two weeks of calm, of perspective, of slowly letting the anger unravel.
I breathe deeply, forcing my feet forward. Each step feels like a test: the hallways echo with voices, lockers clanging, students laughing. Everyone is living their lives, oblivious to the storm churning inside me.
And then I see him. Evan. Across the hall.
My chest tightens, my stomach flips. He's staring at me, but there's no expression I can read. Regret? Nervousness? Hope? All of it? I don't know. And I don't want to know. Not yet.
I pretend I don't notice him, keeping my eyes fixed on my locker. My fingers fumble with the combination. Every movement is deliberate, careful. I don't want to give him anything - not my anger, not my pain, not my vulnerability.
But the mind has a way of betraying itself.
I think about the last four years. About the whispered plans, the way they manipulated me without me knowing. About being "Sol," about being the one he called his light while the truth simmered beneath smiles.
The betrayal still stings, sharp and jagged so much I can't even make myself remove the necklace he gave me. As if holding onto the memories could make all of this a horrible nightmare. But now, beneath that, there's something else: a quiet ache, the smallest flicker of understanding. They didn't intend for me to find out.
Or at least, not all at once. And Evan... Evan waited. He didn't try to force me. That counts for something. Doesn't it?
The bell rings, jarring me from my thoughts. Students scatter to their classes. I head to the art room - my sanctuary, the one place that's mine. The hallways blur past, faces familiar yet distant. Some smile at me politely; some glance away. I keep my head down, pretending normalcy.
Inside the art room, I drop my bag and grab my sketchbook. Pencil in hand, I draw the window light filtering across the tables. I can almost forget for a moment, the world outside, the whispers, the betrayal. Almost.
But my phone vibrates. Notifications. Messages. One after another. Evan, Soraya, Saphira. I don't open them. I don't want to. I want to pretend they aren't there, that the last two weeks in the province were all there was.
My heart aches at the thought. I let my pencil move across the page. Shapes, lines, light. A star. My pendant catches the sunlight, glinting softly. I trace it with my fingers, thinking of lola, of Maeve, of the small steps I've taken to breathe again.
The door opens quietly. Evan steps in. My stomach tightens, but I don't look at him. He doesn't speak at first. He just stands there, hands in his pockets, giving me space. That small patience, the quiet waiting, hits me harder than the betrayal ever did. My anger softens imperceptibly, melting like ice under sunlight.
"Lyra..." His voice is low, careful. "I don't expect anything. I just... wanted to see you. Make sure you're okay."
I shrug, not trusting my voice. "I'm fine."
His lips press into a thin line. "Okay." He steps back. "I'll... give you space. But I'll be around if you need me. Always."
The words sting, in the best way. Not because they hurt, but because they remind me of what I lost - and what I still might have. My fists unclench. My jaw relaxes. For the first time in days, I allow a small exhale, a fragile easing of tension.
Class begins, and I tuck my sketchbook under my arm. My mind wanders back to the province. To the small steps I've taken. To Maeve's quiet presence. To my Lola's warmth. The anger is still there, yes, but it's no longer a storm. It's just a shadow at the edge of my heart. Something I can acknowledge without letting it control me.
And for the first time that day, I think... maybe returning to Saint Valley won't destroy me. Maybe I can navigate this week, face them, face Evan, without losing myself completely. Maybe my heart can start to soften - not fully healed, not fully ready - but soft enough to breathe, soft enough to hope.