Lyra's POV
The next morning, I woke up to the smell of coffee drifting up to my room. For a moment, I stayed under the covers, savoring the warmth of my bed and the quiet anticipation that filled the air. Tomorrow, I would become Mrs. Lyra Hartley. The thought sent a flutter of excitement and nerves through me.
Finally, curiosity got the better of me, and I padded downstairs, barefoot, my robe loosely tied. In the kitchen, I found Angela standing by the counter, a steaming mug in her hands. Her back was to me, and she seemed lost in thought.
“Good morning,” I said, stepping closer, my voice soft so as not to startle her.
Angela jumped slightly but quickly recovered, turning around with a faint smile. “Good morning. I didn’t mean to wake you. I just... couldn’t sleep.”
I reach
