Lyra Pov
I sat in the living room, staring at the pictures on the wall while I waited for Bethany to return. The hum of her sister’s soft tune floated through the air, faint but calming. I leaned back against the couch, letting my eyes close for a brief moment, trying to drown out the lingering guilt and tension that seemed to follow me wherever I went.
But then, faint whispers broke through the hum. My ears perked up instinctively. At first, I thought I imagined it, but the words grew clearer, harsh and cutting.
“He told me that you are going against his will, and because of that, he cut our supply. He no longer sponsors my medical expenses,” a bitter voice hissed, laced with frustration.
I sat upright, alert. The voice was faint, but the emotion behind it was unmistakable. Then came
