Lyra'S POV
Lillian cried so much, her little arms clinging to my leg like chains forged in love and innocence. For a moment, I thought maybe I should stay… just a little longer. But no. I can’t.
Not anymore.
Zane didn’t say anything after that. He only turned away and gave instructions to one of the drivers. Then he handed me his card.
“Call me when you get there,” he said, voice soft, eyes unreadable.
I nodded, fingers closing around the card like it was my last anchor.
The car ride was silent. My heart, though, was anything but. It beat erratically, caught between freedom and fear. As we neared the hospital, I stared at the entrance, expecting to see them—Mom’s fragile form wrapped in warmth, Dad’s guarded stare.
I rushed to Room 104, the one etched in my memory like it was carved
