Lyra’s POV
I didn’t open the drawer again.
I stood there for a long second, frozen in that half–nightmare, half–memory fog, staring at the stupid handle like it was daring me to touch it again.
But I didn’t.
I stepped away.
Barely breathing, barely thinking, but moving, and that was enough.
For once, I wasn't angry about being interrupted, in fact it felt more like a blessing.
If Mom hadn’t come home exactly when she did, I don’t want to know where my hands would’ve gone next.
Probably to the past, to my old mistakes. Probably somewhere I'll regret, somewhere old, somewhere dark.
I crawled into bed without changing, drinking water, eating, or even turning the lights off. The room was dim and quiet, like it was holding its breath with me. My phone lay a few inches away, Mason’s mes
