MasukLYRASilence stretches, thick and suffocating, as if the walls themselves have closed in to witness the torment. Tania is on her knees, her forehead nearly resting on Lucas's shoes, her body shaking with sobs that ripple through the air around us.Lucas does not move. He gazes at her with a cold, fixed stare that terrifies me more than anger. It is not a burst, it is not an explosion. It is a quiet, patient cruelty that knows exactly where to press to inflict pain.His smile remains frozen, cutting, relentless.— Pitiful… he finally murmurs, shaking his head as if before a grotesque spectacle. So pitiful.His words fall like a verdict. No need to shout: he speaks in a calm tone, like a judge delivering an irrevocable sentence.Behind me, Alexandre lets out a low growl. His fists clench so tightly that his knuckles turn white. I can feel him ready to explode, but he remains rooted, trapped by the same snare: if one of us moves, Tania will be crushed between the two. Lucas knows this. A
LYRAThe silence in the hallway is already suffocating. Tania is crying, clinging to me like a drowning person to their last buoy. Alexandre stands tall, rigid as a blade, his shadow covering almost the entire scene. And then… the sharp sound of the front door slamming.I don’t need to look up to know. It’s him. Lucas.His footsteps echo, slow and steady, as if he has all the time in the world. Each step crushes the air a little more in my chest. When he finally appears in the hallway, his gaze freezes on us, then his smile stretches, icy, cruel.He stops abruptly, his shadow cutting off the daylight. His eyes scan the scene: me, upright but trembling; Alexandre, ready to pounce; and Tania… Tania on her knees, her knees already red, her face ravaged, her hands outstretched in a pitiful gesture.— Well… he breathes, his voice low, amused. What a spectacle I didn’t expect to see so early this morning.Tania raises her head, her swollen eyes shining with desperate hope.— Lucas… she groa
LYRALast night's events left me drained. I barely slept, haunted by Lucas's cruel words, by that icy look he shot me as if to punish me again. The morning light filters through the curtains, but I lack the strength to get up right away. Alexandre is still asleep, his hand resting on mine, like a silent vow. This simple warmth kept me from completely sinking.A knock at the door suddenly pulls me from bed, persistent. My heart races. Who could come at this hour? I go downstairs, barefoot, heart pounding, and I find Tania.She is unrecognizable. Her eyes swollen from tears, her hair disheveled, her clothes wrinkled and stained. She clutches her bag as if her life depends on this futile anchor. When she raises her head, her face chills me: it’s a mask of despair.— Lyra… she stammers, her voice broken. I… I can't anymore…And suddenly, she literally collapses at my feet, her sobs echoing in the hallway, loud, suffocating, almost indecent in their violence.— Tania! I exclaim, leaning do
LYRAThe scent of dinner already floats through the house, a mix of roast, roasted vegetables, and sweet aromas coming from dessert. After my bath, I feel slightly lighter, but a dull nervousness catches up with me. Alexandre stays by my side, holding my hand as we dress, his discreet and attentive gestures giving me a courage I thought I had lost.I choose a simple yet elegant dress, light enough to feel comfortable, but subdued enough not to attract attention. Alexandre, on the other hand, is impeccable as always, his black suit perfectly tailored. His gaze meets mine in the mirror, and a slight smile is exchanged between us, a silent pact: whatever happens tonight, we face it together.As we descend, I feel my legs trembling slightly. The hall is bathed in warm light. My parents are already at the table, their cordial smiles making me uncomfortable. Lucas is there, leaning against a wall, looking detached but his eyes gleam with a provocative light.— So, Lyra, you look... calmer,
LYRAI am still lying on my bed, my body heavy with fatigue and anxiety, the memories of yesterday's revelations etched in every heartbeat. The tension has not left me for two days, and merely breathing seems to require monumental effort.— Lyra, come, whispers a familiar voice, soft and insistent.I look up. Alexandre stands in the doorway, a timid smile on his lips, a basket filled with towels and bath salts in his hands. The simplicity of this gesture contrasts with the shadow still lingering in my mind, and yet, there is something reassuring in this attention, something that gently pulls me out of my stupor.— Do you… really want me to get up now? I murmur, my voice barely audible.— Yes, he replies, playful yet tender. And besides… you need to relax, to find a bit of lightness. Come on, follow me. I promise not to drown you in the water this time, he laughs softly.I let out a small, fragile laugh, almost surprised to hear it. Alexandre smiles back, and I feel my shoulders ease a
LYRATwo days have passed, yet the image of that brown envelope, Yann's icy tone, Lucas's rigidity has never left me. Sitting on the edge of my bed, I stare at the floorboards as if they could offer me an answer, a foothold in this chaos.The world around me continues to spin: light filters through the curtains, soft and deceptive, sounds from the house rise from downstairs, but all of it feels distant, almost unreal. Each memory of that lunch returns with new intensity, as if my mind is trying to piece together a puzzle I dare not look at fully.I close my eyes. Mireille Davaine. The name spins in my head, repetitive and threatening. A discreet woman, silent, but omnipresent in the shadows of my past life. Have I been manipulated? Watched? Or worse... deliberately abandoned by those I trusted?A shiver runs through me. My breath shortens, almost trembling. The baby, however, still moves. This fragile life within me connects me to the present, to what remains real, tangible. I place m







