Lyra quickly pulled the covers over herself, turning away from Adam in bed. Adam, noticing her peculiar behavior, didn't dwell on it, attributing it to her being overwhelmed by human emotions. He lay down, looking at Lyra's back, his hand instinctively reaching out to touch her shoulder.
He paused, however, deciding it might be better to let her be. An awkward silence filled the room as he stared at the ceiling. He was accustomed to being hugged in bed, and even when he was with Lyra before, he believed she would have embraced him. He felt a pang of selfishness, realizing he was focused on his own comfort.
He knew Lyra loved him too, but perhaps it wasn't right to force her into something outside her comfort zone. Their minds, usually connected via neuro-link, felt distant despite her proximity. Adam wondered if Lyra had truly become fully human, embracing all the insecurities and emotions that came with it. He smiled to himself, proud of her growth, and decided to respect her new personality. Adam drifted off to sleep.
A Hidden Affection
Lyra turned her head, watching Adam fall asleep. She moved closer, studying his features. His face seemed rougher than before, with noticeable eye bags. Lyra longed to touch his face, but her hand froze. Helena's advice echoed in her mind: the boundaries between people, especially married ones.
Selfish actions in such moments would lead to repercussions, breaking marriages and causing pain to all involved. Lyra felt a sharp pang of hurt knowing Adam was now married to someone else. Her newfound human emotions and the lessons she'd learned restrained her selfish desires.
She felt the profound ache of missing Adam and the difficulty of holding back. Her eyes welled up, thinking of how much she loved him and how hard it was to suppress those feelings for their sake. She wiped away her tears, turned back away from Adam, and cried herself to sleep.
A New Day, A New Mystery
Adam woke the next morning, Lyra still sleeping beside him. He went to the bathroom, washing his face, staring at his reflection. He thought of the struggles ahead, the arduous journey through this world. Images of Emily flashed in his mind; he knew, whatever it took, he would fight until the very end for Emily and their unborn child.
Adam walked out of the bathroom and looked at Lyra, still in bed. He moved closer, appreciating her beauty, a sight he hadn't truly observed since their separation. He hadn't had the luxury of free time to think of her, or to simply watch her sleep so peacefully.
He leaned closer to her face, admiring her sharp, perfectly symmetrical features. Adam wished he had a phone to capture the moment, but a mental picture was enough to bring him happiness.
Suddenly, a loud crying sound pierced the air from outside. Lyra's eyes fluttered open, finding Adam's face alarmingly close to hers. Her face instantly flushed, and she instinctively pulled the blanket to cover herself. Adam's face also reddened, realizing how creepy his actions must have seemed.
"It's not what you think, Lyra," he quickly stammered.
Still shy from the awkward situation, Lyra braced herself, pulling the blanket off and quickly changing the subject. "I heard the sound of a child crying," she said.
Adam's attention snapped to the sound. "Yeah, it sounds like a child crying outside," he confirmed, quickly turning to the monitors displaying the mansion's exterior.
He zoomed in on the road, seeing a small child, a boy, crying and walking aimlessly. Before Adam could rush out to save the child, Lyra stopped him. Lyra's scan revealed that the child wasn't human, but a zombie.
Adam paused for a second, but still decided to investigate. Lyra followed him, grabbing a weapon from the floor. As Adam and Lyra swiftly moved out of the mansion towards the streets, they watched the small boy continue to cry and wander aimlessly.
Adam moved closer and asked the zombie boy, "Are you lost?"
The zombie child instantly stopped crying, wiping his tears away. "I can't find my mom and dad," he replied. Adam and Lyra were shocked to hear the zombie child speak.