Chapter 9 Welcome home

LYRA

Knock knock!!!

A loud knock on the door jolted me awake.

I groaned and rolled over, my heart racing like I had been caught doing something wrong. It took me a second to remember where I was.

The massive soft bed I was in made me remember everything that happened last night or should I say, earlier today?

I squinted my eyes and reached for the clock on the bedside table. The bright numbers told me it was way too early for my liking.

Who on earth was knocking on my door this early?

I cleared my throat and said a low, sleepy, “Come in.” after remembering that I wasn't in my apartment anymore.

The door opened slowly, and the middle aged woman from earlier this morning stepped inside.

She had the same calm look on her face, like she knew I would still be in bed, looking like a mess.

“Good morning, miss Lyra,” she said gently.

“Good morning,” I replied, sitting up and pulling the duvet closer to myself.

She smiled. “You should freshen up and come downstairs. Everyone is waiting for you to come have breakfast.”

Everyone?

My stomach tightened at the word, but I nodded anyway. “Okay.”

She turned to leave, then paused at the door like she had just remembered something important. She looked back at me with a warm smile.

“I forgot to introduce myself. You can call me Mrs Candice.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said softly.

She nodded once, then stepped out and closed the door quietly behind her.

I let out a slow breath and leaned back against the pillows.

What would they be like? Would my sister like me or hate me for not being around, or never even reaching out to her.

Different thoughts ran through my mind as I stood up and walked straight to the bathroom. I couldn't even bring myself to enjoy the warm water on my skin because of how nervous I felt.

Done with showering, I walked to the closest and was wowed again at the amount of clothes that was inside.

I picked a very beautiful dress that looked comfortable and put it on. Everything was there, down to undies.

'How did they know my size?' I wondered.

I slipped my feet into a simple pair of sandals that were sitting neatly by the bed. They fit perfectly, like everything else in this house, and that alone made me even more nervous.

I took a deep breath, held it for a second, then slowly let it out.

You can do this, Lyra.

Opening the door, I stepped into the hallway and froze for a moment.

The place looked even more unreal in daylight.

Soft golden light poured in from tall windows, reflecting off polished floors that looked so clean I was scared to step on them.

The walls were painted in calm, warm colors, with framed artwork arranged perfectly like they had been measured with a ruler.

Everything smelled faintly of fresh flowers and riches.

I started walking, my sandals making soft tapping sounds as I followed the hallway to the stairs.

The grand staircase took my breath away.

It curved beautifully, with a dark wooden railing that looked smooth and glossy. The steps were wide and solid, covered with a runner that felt plush even under my feet. A huge chandelier hung above, sparkling quietly as sunlight hit the crystals, making tiny reflections dance on the walls.

I slowly walked down, holding the railing, afraid I might trip and embarrass myself before I even reached breakfast.

At the bottom of the stairs was the living room.

My jaw nearly dropped.

The space was massive, yet it felt warm instead of cold. Large cream colored sofas were arranged neatly around a glass table that looked like it cost more than my entire apartment. Tall windows stretched from floor to ceiling, letting in so much light that the room almost glowed.

By the wall stood expensive vases, tall and elegant, each one holding fresh flowers that looked like they had just been picked. There were sculptures, paintings, and little details everywhere, but none of it felt crowded. It all fit together perfectly, like the house itself knew how to show off without trying too hard.

I felt small standing there, like I didn’t belong in a place this beautiful.

Swallowing hard, I straightened my shoulders and took another deep breath before walking past the living room and into the dining area.

There were three people sitting there, they all turned towards me and I saw my sister for the first time.

She looked so beautiful that I felt my heart swell with just the thought that she was my sister.

I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat, then I slowly turned towards the middle aged woman that was staring at me with tears in her eyes.

"Mom?" I called out softly. It was more like a whispered question that I already knew the answer to.

Though we had different eyes and hair colour, it was clear as day that she was my mother. The resemblance we had was uncanny.

She stood up slowly under my father's watchful gaze and walked towards me.

Stopping right in front of me, she raised her slightly trembling hands to my cheeks and cupped them.

"You've grown so much, Mia figlia."

I bit the inside of my cheek to control the tears that threatened to fall but I still couldn't stop it.

"Mom!" I whispered more loudly with a choked sob.

She hugged me tight immediately, my tears fell on her shoulder as I hugged her back. I haven't seen or held her since I was three.

She smelled like home and she felt so small in my arms even though we were almost the same height.

I didn't even remember much about her but being in her arms in that moment, made me feel like the empty space in my heart was being filled up slowly.

“Sit down.”

My father’s voice cut through the moment like a sharp knife.

My mother pulled away slowly, wiping at her eyes as she threw a side glare at him.

I stepped back, forcing down a chuckle as she led me to the table and we both sat down.

The warmth from a few seconds ago still lingered in the air, making my chest feel lighter.

I stared at her again for a few seconds, she looked more like my sister than my mother because of how young and healthy she looked.

I noticed then that her eyes were swollen, red around the edges. Like she had cried long before I even walked in.

My chest tightened.

My hands rested on my lap because I did not trust them not to shake.

I glanced over at my sister.

She was sitting beside our mother, back straight, hands neatly placed on the table.

She looked perfect.

She didn't spare me a glance when I sat down. Her eyes were cast down on the table like there was something interesting in it.

I whispered a soft, “Hi.” that barely left my lips.

Nothing, not even a glance.

It felt like I was invisible.

Like I was just some guest who had overstayed her welcome.

A small sting of sadness crept into my chest.

I had imagined this moment so many times in my head, I thought maybe she would smile.

Or at least look curious.

The clinking of cutlery against plates was the only sound for a few seconds.

Then my father finally spoke.

“Welcome home.”