All Chapters of Remember me naked: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

LyraThe room seems to shrink around me. Every sound is amplified: the hum of machines, distant footsteps in the hallway, my own short and irregular breath. Lucas doesn’t take his eyes off me, as if he’s waiting for the precise moment to speak. I feel him hesitating, weighing his words, and that chills me even more than the silence.— Lyra, you need to know something, he finally says, in a low voice.His tone is serious, so serious that my heart tightens immediately.— What? What is it?He briefly looks away, runs a hand over his face as if to chase away a shadow. Then his words fall, relentless:— Cassandre… she lost the baby.The world stops, everything stops, my breathing, the beating of my heart, my thoughts. I feel like the ground is giving way beneath me as I am pinned to this bed.— No… no, Lucas… tell me it’s not true…I shake my head, my hands trembling with all their might. My eyes desperately search for a sign in his, a glimmer that would contradict his words. But Lucas rem

LyraThe silence in the room is suffocating.Lucas has stood up, slowly pacing like a caged beast. My mother has placed her hands on my shoulders, without gentleness. My father, meanwhile, stands near the window, his gaze fixed on his phone as if he could draw some reassuring truth from it. But there is nothing reassuring here anymore. Just this waiting, burning, acidic, that gnaws away.Then, suddenly, footsteps. Quick. Urgent.The door bursts open.The chief doctor reappears, out of breath, his features drawn. He holds another file, a thin sheet this time, crumpled as if he had gripped it too tightly in his hand.— I… I need to speak to you immediately.His gaze slips to me, then back to my parents.— We have received the first results. It’s… quick, I know, but some elements required only a few minutes. The preliminary blood analysis… revealed anomalies.I feel Lucas freeze behind me.— What anomalies? my father asks, his voice suddenly icy.The doctor hesitates. Then he plunges in:

LucasThey have left.The silence that settles is a cold breath in the room still warm from stifled screams and heavy truths. The kind of silence that leaves ashes in the throat.Lyra does not move. Curled up in the chair, arms wrapped around her legs, forehead resting on her knees, she breathes in fits and starts, as if her own body no longer knows how to stand.I approach. Slowly. Like one approaches a narrow edge. I crouch down to her level.— Do you want me to go? I ask softly.She shakes her head gently. Her voice escapes, hoarse.— No, but I don’t know if I deserve you to stay.— It’s not for you to decide.I extend my hand. She hesitates. Then she takes it.Her fingers are icy.I remain there, kneeling in front of her, and I listen to her breathe. Each breath seems to come from far away, as if drawn back from a place too deep.— We all believed things, Lyra, I whisper. Bad, unjust things. But you don’t have to bear that alone anymore.She lifts her head slightly, and her eyes l

AlexandreI gently close the bedroom door. Cassandre is still asleep, lulled by medication, her peaceful face almost innocent under the dim light. Everything seems calm, too calm.But this calm is an illusion.I cross the hallway silently, like a man on the run. Every step I take distances me from her… and brings me closer to Lyra. My heart pounds in my chest as if it knows that nothing will ever be the same.I climb the stairs; they pass by. At each landing, I wonder if I should go back down, resign myself. But I continue. Because Lyra is up there. And she might not want to see me. But I have to go anyway.The top floor is quiet, muffled, almost sacred. The hallway smells of polished wood and ancient power. A nurse points to the room with a hesitant glance, as if she wants to say: You don’t belong here. And she would probably be right.Two plainclothes officers stand guard. No hesitation in their postures. Just a controlled coldness.—I’m here to see Lyra, I say, my throat dry.One o

AlexandreI stand there, frozen.The world continues to turn around me, but I am no longer part of it. The sounds are muffled, the voices distant, the walls are closing in. There is only this sentence left, this poison, this vertigo:She is pregnant, three months along.And she says it's me.I am breathless. My heart pounds against my ribs like a panicked beast. Nausea rises, acidic. I want to tear my skin off, to flee this body, this memory, this guilt that seeps in where I thought I was still innocent.Because it doesn't add up!Because it's impossible!Because if it were true...Then I have become exactly what I have always sworn never to be.I collapse into the chair, or I fall, I no longer know. My legs gave way without warning. My hands tremble. The dried blood on my knuckles still clings to my skin, like a reminder of another fault. I try to regain the thread.That night.I remember.Or rather, I thought I did.I see the hotel suite. The lights too cold. The whisky burning my t