Tangled in Yesterday

The world stopped. Or at least it felt like it did. Lyra stood frozen, eyes locked with the most hypnotic pair she had ever seen—eyes that shimmered like a storm barely held back, full of longing, of unspoken promises. A warmth enveloped her whole being, silencing the noise around them. The chatter of students, the rustle of leaves in the courtyard breeze, everything faded. It was just them—Lyra and those eyes. “I love you, Lyra,” he whispered. The words struck her like a lightning bolt—beautiful, terrifying, electric. Her breath caught in her throat, and her heart thundered in her chest like it wanted to break free. Her cheeks flushed with heat, and her lips parted, but no words came. She was lost, swimming in that moment. He leaned in. Slowly. Deliberately. His lips brushed hers, soft and gentle like a whispered promise. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a lullaby, a sanctuary. In his arms, she felt peace, safety...forever. Time melted away, and for a single, shining second, she believed nothing could ruin this moment. But forever ended far too soon. He pulled back. And the warmth shattered. The cold returned, harsher than ever. She blinked up at him, confusion gnawing at her chest. But something in his gaze had shifted—no longer longing, but haunted. Troubled. Broken. And then he said it. “Let’s break up.” The words tore through her like razors. No. No, this wasn’t happening. She took a step toward him, reaching, needing to understand. “What...?” “I don’t think we can see each other anymore,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m really sorry.” And then—just like that—he turned and walked away. She didn’t follow. Couldn’t. Her feet were rooted to the ground, her heart caving in on itself. This was supposed to be a farewell to high school—a celebration. Not...this. Not heartbreak. Not him. His name was engraved on every memory she had made that year, and now he was a ghost walking away from her like she had never mattered. Lyra Williams. Chubby, charming, and completely unforgettable. She was the girl next door with an expensive twist. Born to the lavish William’s family, a name that reeked of wealth and old money, Lyra had everything a girl could want—except understanding. Except freedom. Except answers. After her parents passed, she had moved in with her Aunt—her safe haven. Her aunt had taken her in, loved her fiercely, and raised her like her own. Life wasn’t perfect, but Lyra was content. She had a boyfriend who said he loved her, friends who made her laugh, and dreams that felt close enough to touch. Until yesterday. Until that kiss. Until those words. He kissed her... and then broke her heart in the same breath. It didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense. And so, she ran after him, her shoes slapping against the pavement. But she couldn’t enter the boys’ hostel—rules were rules. So she waited. Waited and prayed. Then she saw him—Thomas. A mutual friend. “Hey... Thomas!” she called out, desperation cracking her voice. He turned, surprised to see her there, and made his way over. The walk felt like an eternity. While she waited, Lyra battled the storm inside her. Why? Why did he leave? He said forever... Did I do something wrong? Thomas finally reached her. “Please, call him for me,” she begged. “Just this once. I won’t ask for anything else.” But Thomas shook his head gently. “Lyra... I don’t think he’s going to come out. He—he doesn’t want to see you.” Her heart clenched. “That’s not what I asked, Thomas,” she snapped, voice sharp with frustration. “I didn’t ask for your opinion. Just call him.” Thomas hesitated, then nodded silently and walked away. But as he predicted—he didn’t come. Lyra stood there alone, under the shadow of the hostel, waiting for someone who wouldn’t come. A tear traced a hot line down her cheek. She hated him. No—she hated herself. For believing him. For caring. For being so vulnerable. She walked back to her hostel with heavy legs and a heart full of shards. That night, she cried herself to sleep. But before sleep took her, she made a vow: This will be the last time I let anyone break me. She would never again give someone the power to destroy her. Even if it meant shutting out the world. And she did. Bit by bit, she cut off everyone who wasn’t family—her aunt, her cousins. They were the only ones she allowed in. Her sudden withdrawal shocked her peers, but they moved on. Everyone always did. --- Nine years later… Lyra was no longer the soft, tear-stained girl from high school. She was steel now. Refined. Polished. Untouchable. The curves of adolescence had been replaced by elegance and poise. Her once chubby cheeks now sculpted, her long curls always pinned in a flawless bun. Her eyes—still the same deep brown, but colder, guarded. She had become the lead legal counsel for Array Corporations, one of the top real estate empires in the country—a playground for the powerful and merciless. Their motto? The One Percent of the One Percent. And Lyra had earned her seat at that table. Her days were long, her nights longer. She had moved out of her aunt’s home and into a high-rise apartment close to work. Sometimes, she didn’t make it home at all. She slept at her desk, fueled by ambition and a purpose she never spoke aloud. "People like us are just draftsmen to them,” Lyra said calmly, fingers brushing a stack of documents on her desk. “They won’t respect us until we give them no choice. So let them talk, Mr. Eric. Just make sure our work speaks louder.” Eric smiled, a hint of admiration flickering in his eyes. “This is why you're the head of the department, Miss Williams. I honestly don’t know how you do it.” Her team respected her—even if they didn’t always understand her. There was Mrs. Mabel, a stunning single mother with twin daughters, Maya and Meera. Strong and compassionate, Mabel was Lyra’s second-in-command. Then came Mr. Eric—charismatic, light-skinned, with shoulders broad enough to carry the world and a smile that disarmed even the coldest clients. Popular across departments, but a fortress when it came to his private life. Mr. Damien, on the other hand, was a mystery wrapped in silence. Tall, dark-skinned, with curly hair that fell over his sharp eyes—he spoke little, but when he did, it mattered. And lastly, Miss Quinn—a petite intern with hauntingly pretty features and a hunger to prove herself. Still learning, but sharp. And Lyra—once chubby, once vulnerable—was now the pillar they leaned on. The one they whispered about in hallways. The one who carried herself like a woman with no past. Until that day. That moment. “Excuse me…” Lyra lifted her head from her paperwork, a small crease forming between her brows. Her eyes met his. And the world stopped again.