Tied In Silence

For one whole month, Victor had watched her.

Unconscious,Breathing, but not awake.

She wouldn’t look at him.
He didn’t touch her. Didn’t speak too much. He had waited.
Waited for her to come back to him.

And now—
She was breaking.

Lyra clung to him like a frightened child, arms wrapped around his chest, burying herself in him as if she could disappear inside his body. Her sobs weren’t soft anymore—they were violent, shaking her whole frame as she trembled in his arms.

Victor froze at first.
Then his arms wrapped around her in a heartbeat—tight, fierce, unforgiving.

He held her like she was the only thing keeping him alive.
Because she was.

His hand went to her head, fingers tangling in her hair as he whispered brokenly, “Shh… I’m here, little dove. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”

But his words didn’t calm her.
They shattered her.

She clutched at his shirt, sobbing harder, her fingers fisting the fabric like it was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

Victor’s heart split at the seams.
His dove was crying. And it was his fault.

“Lyra,” he whispered, voice shaking. “Please look at me. Let me see you—

But she shook her head violently, refusing, hiding her face deeper into him.

He could barely breathe.

“I should’ve told you everything,” he murmured. “I should’ve never left. I’ll never forgive myself—”

“I HATE YOU,” she screamed into his chest, muffled and desperate.
And then—she hit him.
Her fists, small and shaking, struck his chest again and again.

“I hate yo-u! I HATE you
“Yo-u left me!”
“You lie-d to me!”

Each word was a dagger.
And he took it. All of it.

Until she said, through gasping sobs—
“Lexa… she’s your sister… why didn’t you tell me…?”

Victor’s head snapped down.

She was looking up at him, eyes wild, hands still trying to hit him through her tears.

He caught her wrists.
Gently. Firmly.

Then pulled her into his chest again, wrapping himself around her like a shield.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “For everything, baby. For every lie. Every silence. Every second I made you feel unloved.”

Her sobs broke him.
He kissed her head—slow, reverent. “You are everything to me.”

And then he leaned in—kissed her lips.
Soft. Careful. Like a man who thought he’d lost her forever.

She clutched his shirt.
Didn’t pull away.

He pulled back, just a little—searching her face—
But then she kissed him back.

And that was it.

Victor snapped.

He kissed her again—this time hungrily, desperately, with a month’s worth of agony and love crashing into that single moment. His mouth moved over hers like he was trying to make up for every second he hadn’t touched her.

He growled her name against her lips—“Lyra…”

His hands cupped her face, tilted her chin. His entire body trembled as he held her like she might vanish again.

“If you ever try to push me away again,” he rasped, voice low and dangerously soft,
“I’ll lose my goddamn mind.”

“You hear me?”
“I’ll burn the world down for you, dove.”
“I’ll carry you if you can’t walk.”
“I’ll kill for you if anyone even looks the wrong way.”

Then his forehead pressed against hers—his breath ragged.

“I waited a month for you to speak to me.”
“I won’t wait another day to love you.”

---

Victor hadn’t slept a second.

Not when the woman he’d waited for—ached for—was finally in his arms. His Lyra. His wife. And she was clinging to him like a koala, her delicate arms curled tightly around his torso, face tucked against his chest like she never wanted to be anywhere else.

It was the most innocent thing.
And it destroyed him.

She was so soft, so small, so fragile in his hold.
Victor leaned down and pressed a kiss to her head. "Cute little thing..." he whispered against her hair, voice barely audible.

He tried to gently move, to free himself without waking her—but the moment he shifted even slightly, her hand fisted his shirt with a sudden panic, her eyes flying open.

Those eyes.

Terrified. Wide. Horrified—like she’d just woken up to another nightmare.

Like he was leaving her. Again.

Guilt slammed into his chest like a bullet.

Victor cupped her cheek instantly. “Shh… it’s okay. I’m right here.”

Her lower lip trembled as she whispered, “You’re leaving…”
So soft. So innocent.

And it shattered him all over again.

He leaned down and kissed her forehead, tucking her under his chin like she was the most precious thing in the world. Because she was.

“Sleep more, Lyra. You need rest.”

Her voice cracked as she said again, louder this time—“You’re leaving…”

Victor inhaled sharply, the weight of what he’d done pressing like a mountain on his chest. How much trauma had he carved into her soul with his silence?

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, voice rough with emotion. “And I’ll never leave you alone again, little dove. Not now. Not ever.”

But she didn’t believe him.

“NO!” she screamed, right into his face, her panic exploding like a storm.

Victor didn’t flinch. He only pulled her into his arms again, crushing her trembling body to his chest. She was still weak, still vulnerable, and this was all his fault.

“Just sleep,” he murmured, stroking her back. “I’m right here.”

Her tense body finally relaxed, her breath slowing as she drifted back to sleep. But the pain in his heart stayed sharp.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
She wasn’t supposed to panic every time he moved.
She wasn’t supposed to fear that he’d disappear.

He would fix it. No matter how long it took.