Chapter 6 — Like a Waking Dream

Lyra

I have never seen a house so big.

I stand frozen on the threshold, my mouth slightly open, unable to take another step. My gaze catches on the ceiling, the floor, the walls, as if I were searching for a flaw, a hint that all of this is just a theater set. But no. Everything is real.

The floor shines beneath my feet. White marble, streaked with golden veins. So pure, so perfect that I fear to soil it with my worn shoes. The walls rise high, a creamy white bordered with finely carved woodwork. And the chandeliers… Lord. Cascades of crystal hanging, capturing light and scattering it into thousands of stars around me.

I do not dare to touch. I do not even dare to breathe too hard. I feel like if I move suddenly, everything will collapse. And I will find myself back where I was yesterday: that gray alley, that dirty kitchen, that life without light.

— Come in, my dear. You are home now, whispers the woman beside me, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.

Home.

Those two words strike hard in my chest. Like a foreign truth, a half-whispered dream. Home. As if I belong here.

I take a step, then another. The air smells of jasmine, beeswax, and old wood. It is a warm, enveloping scent. A scent of home. I have not known many homes.

And then I see him.

He stands in the living room, arms crossed. A young man, but already inhabited by that coldness that those who bear responsibilities too soon possess. He stares at me. A gray gaze, almost metallic. Calm. Too calm.

— Lucas, the woman says softly, here is your sister.

I freeze. He does not move.

Not a word. Not a gesture.

He observes me like a puzzle. Like a piece that is forced into an ancient puzzle. In his eyes, there is something distant… and a fracture that I do not yet understand.

— Don’t be fooled by his cold demeanor, she adds with a slight smile. Lucas is the CEO of the family group now. He left the office as soon as he learned you had been found. When you were born, he was so happy! You were inseparable. Do you really have no memory of that?

I do not know what to answer.

I have memories. But they are blurry. Fragmented. Like shards of glass trying to be glued together the wrong way. A laugh. A garden. A warm hand. And then… nothing.

I force a smile. A painful smile.

— I always thought those images in my head were dreams… An illusion to escape the pain.

He flinches. I see it. A crack in the mask. A tremor. An emotion.

His gaze changes. Barely, but enough. As if he is listening to me for the first time.

— You remember… what? he asks. His voice is deep but wavers slightly.

I close my eyes.

And the memories return. Clearer. More real.

— There was a huge tree in the garden… We used to hang colorful ribbons to make wishes. And a dog. White. His name was Snow. And… a wooden cabin behind the bushes. You said it was our secret castle.

I open my eyes again.

He has closed his.

— The cabin… I rebuilt it last year. Just… in case.

A breath passes through the room. Not a wind. A breath of life. Like something awakening.

I want to cry. But not like before.

No pain. No rage.

Relief.

He places a hand on my shoulder. Firm. Reserved. But real.

An anchor.

— I will show you around tomorrow. Rest tonight. You must be exhausted.

I am. But not just in my body.

I am exhausted from doubting. From being wary. From running away.

My room… I hesitate to call it that. It is a palace.

Heavy curtains, in plum velvet. A massive bed, covered with cushions and a fluffy duvet. A lacquered wooden vanity, scented candles, books as far as the eye can see. Soft, pearlescent walls. And a small balcony overlooking the garden.

Everything is made for me.

And I don’t understand why.

I walk to the mirror. My reflection surprises me.

A new dress. Styled hair. A complexion almost rested.

But my eyes…

They have not changed.

I see the girl who cried alone in the dark. The one who hid to eat. The one who was treated like a burden.

And suddenly, this room almost frightens me.

How can a heart so battered inhabit such a beautiful place?

I sit on the bed. And I let the tears flow. In silence.

I do not cry out of sadness.

I cry because I am lost. Because I am afraid to believe it. And even more afraid to see it all collapse.

— Why me? Is this all real? Or just a mirage? I murmur.

But no one answers.

I am afraid. Afraid that it is a dream. That tomorrow I will wake up there, in the filth and oblivion. But no. This is reality. I am here. In this palace. I have to believe it.

Lucas

I cannot sleep.

I am in my office, facing the bay window, hands in my pockets.

I have given everything for this family. To stand tall when my parents crumbled. To keep the business running. To honor the memory of an absence.

The absence she left.

And tonight, that absence has become presence.

She is here. She has returned.

And I cannot see her as a stranger.

Because she spoke of Snow. Of the cabin. Because she repeated that phrase…

We will always be together, okay?

I thought it was a lie a child tells themselves to survive.

But she remembered.

I watched her for a long time. She no longer has the same voice. No longer the same body. But she has kept that gaze. That mix of hope and solitude.

And I make a promise to myself, here and now.

If she is really back, then I will protect her. Even if she pushes me away. Even if she hates me. Even if I have to face everything for that.

She is my sister.

And I am her big brother.

— Welcome home, Lyra.