Chapter 5
1727 Words
Lyra’s POV
The morning sun hadn’t fully warmed the streets yet. The bell above the store door jingled softly, but the place was still empty. I leaned against the counter, staring at my phone, thumb hovering over the screen.
Lisa had agreed to come. She didn’t ask questions, just said she’d be there.
That was how well she knew me.
The bell jingled again, this time loud enough to snap me out of my spiral.
Lisa burst in like she was powered by caffeine, chaos, and sunlight.
“LYRA!” she yelled, already charging across the store.
I rushed toward her, practically hurling myself into her arms. Her hug was tight—bone-crushing, grounding. It squeezed something loose in my chest, the kind of pressure that made you exhale without realizing you’d been holding your breath.
She pulled back just enough to grab my hands.
“Spill. What’s so urgent it needed me running here before breakfast?”
My fingers trembled around the coffee cup I’d grabbed as a prop for stability.
“It’s my vision, Lisa,” I said quietly. “I had one last night. A bad one. And it’s… about me.”
Her brows shot up, but she stayed calm. Lisa always stayed calm. “Go on. What happened?”
I led her to the tiny customer table by the window, and we sank into the chairs.
“I… I saw myself. Dying.”
The words gutted me all over again. “Not like the usual visions. Not accidental. It was me, on the floor of my room—I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t…” My voice wavered. “And I think it’s connected to… the marriage.”
Her head jerked up.
“What marriage?”
“My father is forcing me into one,” I muttered. “Two weeks from now.”
“WHAT?!” Lisa slapped a hand to her chest in sheer dramatic agony. “With who? Which demon spawn?!”
“Maverick Cole.” I groaned.
She choked on her own saliva.
“You’re marrying the fossil?! In two weeks?!”
“Apparently.”
“And your step-creatures?”
I sighed. “Angela dug her nails into my arm like she was signing a contract in blood.”
Lisa’s face twisted like she was ready to commit homicide. “I’ll deal with them later.”
Despite everything, a weak laugh escaped me.
But her expression softened as she squeezed my hands.
“Gurl… are you actually okay though?”
I inhaled shakily. “I don’t know if it’s a coincidence or a warning. I don’t know what to do, Lisa. I can’t face this alone.”
She cupped my chin. “Look at me. You won’t face it alone. Not ever.”
Some of the weight resting on my ribs finally loosened.
“But this is different,” I whispered. “I’ve never felt… so close to it. Like the vision was real. Like it’s already happening.”
“We’ll figure it out,” she said firmly. “Together. You saw it for a reason.”
I nodded. “Okay. Together.”
We spent the morning going over every detail I could remember: the way my chest rose and fell, the light in the room, the shadows, even the faint ticking of the clock that felt louder than it should have. She analyzed everything like a detective hopped up on sugar.
By the time Lisa left, promising to dig into the Oracle’s texts while I tried to rest, the store was quiet again. My chest still hurt from the memory, but there was clarity now, if only a little.
---
Later that night, I checked out of the store, hugging my arms close. The city was gentler at night—quieter, softer, like it respected the need to breathe.
“Marriage,” I scoffed, the word sour on my tongue. “Right. That’s not happening.”
The vision couldn’t just be about my death, it had to be a warning. A sign that staying in that house under their control was the real danger.
My relief had only lasted a few minutes when a sharp, stabbing pressure hit behind my eyes.
“Oh no, come on!” I muttered, rubbing my temples. “Not again. Seriously?”
The world blurred into white static. A new vision slammed into me—
The old pedestrian bridge overlooking the river.
My secret spot.
The place I went when the world pressed too tight.
Except this time…
Someone else was there.
A figure leaning against the railing, staring at the water below. His hands were curled over the metal hovering dangerously close to the edge. Was he going to jump?
The vision snapped out as fast as it had slammed in.
“Are you kidding me?” I barked into the empty street. “I’m not a guidance counselor for sad strangers!” I snapped.
But my feet had already taken off.
I sprinted toward the bridge—past flickering streetlights, cracked pavement, the quiet hum of the river below.
And then I saw him.
Exactly like the vision, leaning forward, his fingers curled around the railing. Shoulders tense like he was holding the whole damn world on his back.
“HEY!” I yelled, skidding to a stop beside him. Before he could react, I grabbed his arm with both hands.
The momentum sent us both crashing to the ground and we hit the pavement hard.
“Ow—s**t!” I hissed, bracing a hand on the ground.
He groaned beneath me. “What the hell? Are you trying to kill me?”
“You’re welcome!” I shot back, scrambling off him. “I just saved your life!”
He pushed himself up slowly—and then he looked at me.
And oh.
Oh.
He wasn’t just attractive.
He was the kind of breathtaking that knocked your thoughts out of order.
Sharp cheekbones. A strong jaw shadowed with stubble. Eyes dark and intense, carrying storms behind them. Hair tousled in a way that shouldn’t be attractive but absolutely was. Broad shoulders wrapped in an expensive coat that didn’t belong on a bridge this late.
He looked like trouble crafted perfectly in a lab.
“Who are you,” he demanded, “and why are you shouting at me?”
“Because you scared me!” I snapped… then froze. “I mean… not sca…red scared. Just… scared enough to… Ugh! You know what I mean!”
He pushed himself up from the ground with a quiet grunt, dusting off his palms and the back of his coat. When he straightened, he towered a little over me, one brow lifting.
“No,” he said flatly. “Not really.”
My mouth fell open.
Was he… was he playing with me right now?
After I practically saved his life?!
“Don’t lie to me!” My voice cracked, which was a little embarrassing but I couldn’t stop. “Whatever you’re going through, it cannot be so bad you want to end your life! Nothing is worth that, you hear me?”
He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. He wasn’t angry—just confused. And maybe… something else. Something I couldn’t place.
“You want to know what I was doing,” he said quietly, “standing here like some damned cliché?”
His voice dropped into a low, razor-edge sound that cut straight through me.
“My own family has been plotting the timeline of my downfall for weeks. My grandfather issued an ultimatum—marry in three months or lose everything. The entire corporate empire my life has been engineered to control? Gone.”
I froze.
“So yes,” he continued, bitterness in every word, “I was standing on a bridge trying to reconcile years of perfection with three months of absolute absurdity.”
His shoulders slumped, an almost imperceptible movement that spoke volumes. His eyes widened enough that it was clear he'd just slapped me across the soul with too much information.
My lips parted, but no words came out. My brain needed a full minute to reboot.
The silence that followed was heavy and cold.
His pain was different than mine—sharper, colder—but painfully familiar.
A cage built by family. Expectations choking the air. A countdown to doom dressed as duty.
We were strangers.
But in that moment…
We were mirrors.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I misunderstood.”
He exhaled slowly,
“Look,” he said, tension finally easing in his shoulders. “I’m not suicidal.”
“Good,” I breathed out in relief. “Because I’m barely surviving my own mess. I can’t add yours to the list.”
He snorted. “You’re unbelievable.”
“You have no idea,” I muttered, pushing hair out of my face like I hadn’t just body‑checked a stranger on a bridge.
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward—it was heavy. Real.
“I’m sorry about your family,” I murmured.
His jaw clenched. “I’m… used to it.”
I wasn’t sure which part of that hurt more—the truth or the resignation.
“I’m Lyra,” I said softly, offering him a hand.
He stared at it like it was a foreign object, then reluctantly took it.
“Maximilian St. Clair.”
His palm was warm. Strong. A little calloused, like he’d held on too tightly to things that hurt.
“Max,” I said softly.
His eyes lifted to mine, a faint hesitation flickering there—like he didn’t hear that version of his name often.
We let go at the same time, too quickly to be normal.
The moment snapped awkwardly—leaving a strange tension in the air.
And then—
It hit me. Like lightning straight to the ribs.
His contract and mine were different battles, but they carried the same truth—burning toward something neither of us could escape.
My heart was still racing—not from fear this time, but from the crushing weight of everything I’d been carrying. The pressure rose in my chest, pushing past logic, past pride, past any remaining sense.
Before I could stop myself…
“Marry me.”
The words tore out of me, raw and reckless.
And the world went still.
- Writer
