*FREYA*I walk in on Lyra humming softly to herself, her brows knitted in concentration as she knits a tiny sweater.She looks up the moment she senses me, and her face lights up instantly.“Freya,” she smiles warmly. “I didn’t know you were coming.”She begins to rise from the couch, but I’m quick to close the distance between us.“Don’t,” I say gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. “There’s no need for that.”She pauses, then lets herself sink back down with a small laugh.“You’re starting to sound like a healer,” she teases lightly.I manage a faint smile, though it doesn’t quite reach my eyes.Her gaze lingers on me a second too long.“You’ve been crying,” she says softly, her tone shifting instantly.I stiffen.“It’s nothing,” I reply too quickly, setting the fruit basket down to avoid her eyes.Lyra hums quietly, clearly unconvinced.“It’s never nothing with you,” she murmurs, placing the half-finished sweater aside. “What happened?”I hesitate. So much has happened.“I just…
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