Chapter Eighty-Seven
*The Whole Truth*
The hospital hallway seemed to stretch forever. The cheerful paintings on the walls, the smell of antiseptic—it all felt like a lie. Lyra’s heart was a drum in her ears. She had heard whispers, pieces of a conversation between Naomi and her grandfather from the last time she visited. Words like “fire,” “lost,” and “guilt.” She couldn’t carry the half-truths anymore. She needed the whole story, no matter how much it hurt.
She pushed open the door to Francis’s room. He was sitting up in bed, looking out the window. He turned, and his gentle smile faded when he saw her face.
“Lyra, my dear. You look…”
“I need you to tell me everything,” she interrupted, her voice trembling but firm. She pulled a chair close to his bed, not to comfort him, but to mak
