Still here.
677 Words
Kael didn’t leave.
Not after that silence.
Not after Lyra turned her back to him.
The room stayed dim, lit only by the low lamp near the bed. The air felt too thick to breathe properly. Lyra lay on her side, eyes open, staring at the wall. She could feel him behind her. Awake. Unsettled.
The bond pulsed. Slow. Uneasy.
“Lyra.”
She didn’t answer.
He shifted closer. The mattress dipped slightly. His arm hovered for a second before settling around her waist, hesitant, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed anymore.
She stiffened.
“I’m not asleep,” she said quietly.
“I know.”
His voice sounded rough. Stripped down.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. His breath brushed the back of her neck. Familiar. Once comforting. Now it just made her chest ache.
“I don’t know how we got here,” Kael said.
Lyra closed her eyes.
“Yes, you do.”
His arm tightened instinctively. “That’s not fair.”
She turned slowly, finally facing him. Their noses were inches apart. Close enough that she could see the crease between his brows, the tension he never let anyone else see.
“Tell me,” she said softly. “When did you last choose me without hesitation?”
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
The silence stretched. Not empty. Heavy. Crushing.
Lyra’s throat burned. “That’s what I thought.”
Kael’s hand slid up her arm, thumb brushing her skin like he could soothe this away. “I’m still here.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“It should count for something.”
Her lips trembled. She hated that he could still do this to her. “You don’t get credit for staying when you’re already halfway gone.”
The bond flared suddenly. Sharp. Painful.
Kael sucked in a breath, hand pressing to his chest. “Do you feel that?”
“Yes.”
“It’s getting worse.”
“No,” Lyra whispered. “It’s getting honest.”
He reached for her face then, cupping her cheek. His palm was warm. Familiar. Her body reacted before her heart could stop it.
“Please,” he said. Not Alpha. Not leader. Just a man. “Don’t pull away from me.”
Her chest caved in.
She leaned forward, forehead resting against his. Their breaths tangled. This close, it would be so easy to pretend again.
“I didn’t pull away,” she said, voice breaking. “I stayed. You just kept choosing everything else.”
His grip tightened. “I was trying to protect you.”
“From what?” Her voice cracked. “From being seen as your weakness?”
That hit.
Kael’s jaw clenched. “They would’ve torn you apart.”
“They already are,” she whispered. “Just quietly. And you’re letting them.”
Something in his eyes fractured.
He kissed her then. Not slow. Not gentle. Desperate. Like he was trying to shove the fear back down her throat.
Lyra kissed him back for half a second.
Then she pulled away.
The sound he made was small. Raw.
“Don’t,” he breathed.
She pressed her forehead to his shoulder, hands fisted in his shirt. “If I let you touch me like that again,” she whispered, “I won’t survive this.”
His arms wrapped around her, tight, shaking. “I need you.”
She closed her eyes.
“You need me quiet,” she said. “You need me patient. You need me to stay where you left me.”
He didn’t deny it.
That was the final cut.
Lyra pulled back, gently this time. Carefully. Like handling something already broken.
“I’m still here,” she said. “But I can’t keep bleeding just so you don’t have to choose.”
Kael stared at her like he was finally seeing the edge of the cliff.
And for the first time since they were bound,
Lyra meant it when she turned away.
Not to punish him.
But to save herself.
- Writer
