Tied In Silence

Lyra lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
Her mind was a tangled mess of thoughts — about everything Victor had told her, about the life she once knew, and the way everything had changed.
How, slowly, without realizing, she had started trusting him.

Victor sat nearby, working on his laptop.
But when he glanced up and noticed she was still wide awake, her eyes distant, he closed the laptop with a soft click and shifted beside her.

"Come here," he murmured.

Lyra didn’t hesitate.
She crawled into his arms, burying her face into his chest like a lost child.
Victor’s arms came around her instantly, holding her against him.

His brows furrowed as he felt her tremble slightly.
He tilted his head down, his voice soft yet filled with concern.

"What's wrong, little dove?"

She only shook her head, refusing to speak.

Victor didn’t push her.
He simply tightened his hold, pressing a kiss into her hair.
Whatever it was — he would wait until she was ready.

It pained him, though.
Just hours ago, she was smiling like a  little girl.
Now... she felt fragile in his arms.

Minutes passed before she whispered, almost childishly,

"Vic... tor..."

His body stiffened slightly at the broken way she said his name.
He pulled back a little, cupping her cheek to look at her properly.
"What is it, Lyra?" he asked, voice dipping into a serious tone.

She hesitated, her lashes lowering.
"I want to meet... h-him..."

Victor’s entire body went cold.
He didn’t need her to explain.
He knew exactly who she meant.

Her father.

His eyes darkened instantly.
"No," he said, his voice firm, final.

Lyra flinched at his harshness but didn't back down.

"I want to ask him... why," she whispered, pain lacing her voice.

"I said no, Lyra," he snapped, unable to hide the sheer rage in his chest.

She turned her back to him without another word, her silence screaming louder than any fight.

Victor cursed under his breath, his hand reaching for her.
"Lyra..." he called softly.
No answer.

Her voice came out small, broken:
"I won’t take too lon-g... I just want to end every-thing..."
She sniffled.
"But you don’t understand... you never understand me..."

Victor felt something tighten painfully inside him.

"You don’t love me...
Never listen to me..."

She said it like a truth she believed — and it shattered him.

For a moment, he was frozen.
Then he moved fast.
Victor grabbed her waist and yanked her against him, caging her in his arms before she could pull away.

She wriggled weakly, but he easily turned her around, forcing her to look at him.

His gaze was molten with anger — and something deeper, desperate.

"Enough," he growled lowly.
"You think I don’t love you, Lyra?

She blinked up at him.

Yes she said

He exhaled sharply, trying to leash his emotions.
"Fine," he bit out.
"You want to meet him?"
His grip on her waist tightened slightly, not hurting but possessive.
"Then I’m going with you."

Lyra pouted stubbornly.
"Lexa will come with me," she said in a small voice, her lashes fluttering like a guilty child.
"I already asked her..."

Victor stared at her like she had lost her mind.

"Not happening," he said darkly.
"You both have a fucking habit of getting hurt, don’t you?"
He raked a hand through his hair, glaring at nothing.
"Should've known better than to leave you two together for two years..."

Lyra giggled, finally unable to help herself at his frustration.

Victor narrowed his eyes.
"Don’t you dare laugh, little troublemaker," he muttered.

Still giggling, Lyra added innocently,

She used to say a lot of bad things about you..."

Victor shook his head, a reluctant smirk pulling at his lips.

"Yeah, well... we were never that close," he admitted.
"I was always busy training with my father, and she chose to stay abroad for her studies."

He sighed deeply.
"Now, sleep — before I change my damn mind."

Lyra closed her eyes obediently, snuggling closer to him.
But a second later, she opened them again and found him already watching her, one eyebrow raised in silent warning.

"What now?" he asked dryly.

She hesitated, then whispered,
"Victor... Dad never really talked to me much...
Do you think... he still thinks I'm not good enough for you?"

Victor’s heart twisted violently.
He leaned down and pressed a fierce kiss to her forehead, holding her even closer.

"It’s not like that, little dove," he murmured.
"Maybe... he regrets not accepting our marriage sooner."

Lyra clutched his shirt tightly.
"But he looks so angry whenever I'm around..."

Victor chuckled softly.
"Believe me, Lyra — that’s his happy face."

She giggled again, the sound light and pure against his chest.

Victor smiled — the kind of smile he reserved only for her — and whispered,

"You’re just like him, you know...
Stubborn, impossible, mine."

Lyra buried her face into his chest again, feeling safe, warm, loved.

Victor tightened his hold on her, swearing silently to himself.
No matter what happened tomorrow —
No matter who tried to stand between them —
He would protect her.
Always.