Veil of Deception

AUTHOR'S NOTE :

Ah, my dear readers, welcome back. This chapter? It’s one of those—the kind where the past refuses to stay where it belongs, where ghosts whisper in the wind, and where memories grip just a little too tight.

Lyra may think she’s mastered the art of letting go, but tell me—can you ever truly silence something that once defined you?

The air is shifting, the past stirring. And something tells me… it’s not done with her yet.

Lyra's POV

Leaning against the wrought-iron railing of the balcony, as my gaze settles on the garden below. Down in the open clearing, a girl stands with unwavering focus, her stance firm, fingers wrapped around the grip of a gun. She raises it with practiced precision, as she prepares to take the shot.

The air shivers with the sharp crack of a gunshot.

And suddenly, I see him again—standing behind her, close enough that their shadows blended into one. His presence was steady, unyielding, hands guiding hers with the quiet certainty that had always set him apart. She pulled the trigger, and the shot was perfect. Flawless. Just like the moment.

A soft tap on my shoulder pulls me from the depths of the memory, and I turn to find Alex standing there. His usual stern expression is softened by concern, his eyes searching me with that quiet intensity I know so well.

"I've been knocking for the past five minutes. Where were you?" His voice is firm, but there's a gentleness in his gaze, a vulnerability he doesn't often show.

I exhale, forcing a small shrug. “Just thinking."

His gaze drifts to the garden below, following mine, but he doesn't press. For a moment, I wonder if he sees what I see-what's no longer there. The garden is empty now. The girl is gone, just like the echoes of the past.

Memories have a way of creeping in, sneaking up when you least expect them, but I don't let them linger. Not anymore.

"It's been four years, Elara," Alex says, his voice lowering, as if the weight of the words might make them harder to say.

Four years. The words settle into the air, familiar yet heavy, like an unspoken truth we've both carried for far too long.

"I know," I reply, my voice steady, unwavering. I've made peace with the past-or at least, I've convinced myself I have. I've learned how to bury the ghosts and silence the memories before they have a chance to pull me under. I'm good at it now. I've had to be.

The breeze is cooler now, brushing against my skin as I linger on the balcony for a moment longer, before turning back to step inside the room, where the warmth of my room wraps around me. The chandelier’s golden glow casts soft light over the blush and ivory tones of the walls.

My cat greets me instantly, weaving herself between my legs, her soft purring a familiar comfort. I bend down, scooping her into my arms, her warmth grounding me as I cross the room. The silk sheets are cool against my skin as I sink onto the bed and she curls into my lap.

Alex follows me inside, his gaze never straying as he crosses the room. Slowly, he lowers himself onto the edge of the bed beside me, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. His hand moves without hesitation, fingers brushing through the cat’s fur in slow, deliberate strokes—a quiet gesture, careful but certain.

It’s not just the cat he’s comforting. We both know that.

He's always been my comfort. The one who's never wavered, even when I was almost broken. But right now, even in his silence, I feel the weight of his concern-like he's afraid I'll slip, that I'm not as strong as I make myself out to be.

But I am strong. Stronger than I've ever been.

"So," I say, breaking the silence, my tone light but with a hint of challenge. "What brings you here, Alex? Thought you had more important things to do."

He doesn't answer right away, just gives me that look-the one that always feels like he's seeing right through me. It's a mix of amusement and exasperation, the kind that says he knows exactly what I'm doing. Knows I'm trying to shift the mood, even if it's just for a moment.

"Always the master of distraction," he says finally, his voice laced with a quiet affection. He leans back against the headboard, his posture relaxed but his eyes still sharp. "But I'm here because I wanted to make sure that you do remember about the party tonight."

I blink, momentarily thrown. I'd almost forgotten. "I don't think I'm in the mood for it," I say, my voice more matter-of-fact than defeated.

He raises an eyebrow, a playful glint returning to his eyes. "You do know that we are throwing this party for your return?"

I roll my eyes, the playful edge creeping back into my voice. "Oh, so now it's my return, huh? You sure it's not just an excuse to drink and make bad decisions?"

Alex chuckles, the sound warm, grounding. “Maybe a little bit of both, but you’re the guest of honor. You can’t back out now.”

I exhale, leaning back against the pillows, pretending to consider it. “I don’t know, Alex. I’m not really in the mood for crowds and small talk.”

His gaze sharpens just a little. Not enough to challenge, but enough to remind me that he knows me too well. "How about this—you and me, we hit the stores. I'll even let you pick something completely over the top. What do you say?"

I arch a brow. “So, your solution is to drag me shopping?”

“Absolutely.” His lips twitch. “It’s a win-win. You get a dress, I get the satisfaction of watching you suffer through too many options.”

A reluctant smile tugs at my lips, but I hesitate—just for a second.

Because it’s easier to say no. To stay in this room, wrapped in the quiet, where ghosts feel less tangible.

But Alex is still watching me, waiting, knowing.

I raise an eyebrow, trying to hide my smile. “You really think I’d trust you with fashion advice?”

Alex grins, leaning back a little. “I’m offering to let you pick something ridiculous. What’s there to lose?”

I roll my eyes, but the warmth in his voice makes it hard to refuse. "Fine," I say, standing up and stretching. "But only because I don’t trust your taste."

Alex grins, stepping back as if he’s already won. “That’s the spirit.”

I shake my head, as Alex laughs, a bright sound that makes everything feel lighter. He stands up too, offering me a hand like it's the most natural thing in the world.

I take his hand, letting him pull me to my feet. As we head toward the door, I glance back at the garden. The memory of him is still there, but it's just a shadow now, something I can walk past without a second thought.

I smile, feeling the excitement building. Some things will always sting, but I'm done letting them control me. Tonight, I'm going to let myself enjoy the moment. One step at a time, with a bit of fun along the way.

-------

1. What do you think happened four years ago that still haunts Lyra?

2. Do you trust Alex's fashion sense, or do you think Lyra is right to be skeptical ?

3. What are you hoping to see happen at the party? Any predictions?