Lyra lay awake in the guest room, eyes fixed on the ceiling. The soft hum of the city below was a distant lullaby, but her thoughts were louder. She was in Zane Hogan's penthouse, pregnant with his child, and unsure if she was safe… or trapped.
A knock at the door broke her thoughts.
"It's open," she said quietly.
Zane stepped in, holding a blanket. "You looked cold."
She accepted it wordlessly, draping it over her legs. He didn't leave.
"Do you want to leave?" he asked after a long silence.
Lyra blinked. "Are you asking me… or trying to push me out?"
"I'm giving you a choice," he said. "I don't want you here out of fear or guilt."
She looked at him then — really looked. He was tired too, but there was something honest in his eyes. Something raw.
"I don't want to run," she said finally. "But I also don't want to feel like I'm standing in someone else's place."
Zane crossed the room slowly, crouching beside her. "You're not. Camille was a chapter. You're… something I didn't expect. But you're not a replacement."
Lyra's heart ached at his words. It wasn't love yet — not quite. But maybe, just maybe, it was something close.