Page 88 of Her Soul to Own

Then, softly, almost like it hurts her to speak, she says, “Leave it here.”

Her voice cracks on the wordhere, and my hand flexes instinctively, like I might step forward, push the door open wider, and close the fucking space between us. But she turns, her shoulders tight like glass that’s about to splinter. She doesn’t look back or check if I’ve obeyed.

She just closes the door quietly and gently, like she’s sealing herself into something she doesn’t think she’ll ever come back from.

I set the USB down, but I don’t move a step. I want to leave and respect her wish, but I can’t seem to. I can’t just leave without talking to her.

“Lyra.” My voice scrapes out before I can stop it. It’s raw and husky.

Through the door, I hear a breath hitch and fabric rustle.

I press my palm flat against the wood, as though it’ll make a difference.

“Lyra,” I say again. Softer now. “Please. Talk to me.”

Nothing. Then… the door creaks open just enough for her to look at me again.

But this time, her eyes are different. They’re not filled with fire or rage; they look like she’s in pain. And not the kind of pain that explodes, but the kind that sinks.

Her chin trembles, and her lip folds between her teeth. She’s trying not to cry, but she’s failing.

“Don’t,” she whispers.

I swallow hard. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t make me need you right now.”

Fuck.

Her words hit me like a body blow. I take a step closer, but she shakes her head quickly, defensive and desperate.

“I can’t talk. Not now. Not with you. Not with anyone.” Her voice wavers, breaking on the wordyou. “I’m not strong enough to hate you.”

I open my mouth to sayI don’t want to walk away. To sayI’m still here. To sayI never wanted to leave you, but I had to. I had to control the online world. But I don’t because I know the words won’t fix what this week has done to her.

She wipes at her face with the sleeve of her robe, her mascara smearing in a jagged line under her eye.

“I feel like I’m drowning, and you’re just… standing there, holding the rope. Not throwing it.”

“I’m not,” I say quietly. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I can’t stand looking at her like this, helpless and disappointed.

“I’m not standing still,” I tell her.

“Then where the fuck were you?” Her voice rises, finally. “Where were you when everything came down? Where were you when they turned me into a goddamn punchline?”

“I was destroying them,” I say, my teeth clenched. “While you were breaking, I was burning their names off the map. Right here… downstairs. I didn’t leave, Lyra.”

She breathes hard through her nose, trying to reel it all back in. Clearly trying not to fall apart on her doorstep in front of the one person she can’t afford to fall apart in front of. Me.

I want to reach for her.

I want to pull her into my chest and hold her until the storm inside her breaks.

I want to press my lips to her forehead and tell her she’s safe.

But I don’t.

Instead, I say the only thing I know she’ll believe.

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