49

Lyra’s POV

The morning I said yes, it felt as though the house itself stopped breathing. I didn’t even know when the words left my lips, maybe out of exhaustion, maybe out of pity, maybe because of the way Lilian clung to me and sobbed into my dress. I had always imagined my “yes” to marriage would feel like freedom, like finally claiming the life I wanted. Instead, my chest felt hollow, my voice dry as sandpaper.

Lucian’s eyes had widened, disbelief swimming in them, like a drowning man who suddenly tasted air. His lips trembled, but he didn’t speak right away. For once, he wasn’t the man who always had a quick retort. He looked broken… yet grateful.

My parents were stunned to hear the news but they approve it thinking maybe that will make me happy.

From that moment, the days blurred into preparations. My parents insisted on something modest—quiet, private, nothing the press could sink their teeth into. Just family, close friends, and the priest. They said it was best for my sanity,