Page 158 of Bound By Crimson
Edwin. Editha.
Of course.
But why had she never heard of her?
She looked around the attic again, a cold unease settling in her chest.
“Who are you, Eden?”she whispered.“And who is Edwina?”
Something caught her eye then, half-hidden beneath a collapsed lace parasol.
A picture frame. Facedown.
She hesitated—just for a moment—then walked toward it, careful not to disturb the brittle floorboards.
The frame was dusty and cold in her hands.
She didn’t flip it yet.
Instead, she stared at the back, heart hammering, a pulse roaring in her ears.
Finally, she turned it over.
A young woman stood barefoot in front of rose bushes, one hand resting protectively over her rounded stomach. She was visibly pregnant—the curve unmistakable even in the faded photograph.
At her side stood a boy—about ten—his shoulder slightly tucked behind her arm, like he wasn’t sure if he should be seen.His hands were folded in front of him, posture stiff, as if he’d been told exactly how to stand but was still doing it wrong. His eyes weren’t on the camera—they were fixed just beyond it, wary and uncertain, like he was bracing for correction. The only softness in the frame was the way he leaned ever so slightly toward the woman beside him, like she was the only safe place in the shot.
But it was the woman that rooted Lyric in place.
It wasn’t just a resemblance—it was her.
Same eyes. Same mouth. Same stubborn tilt of her chin.
A strangled sound escaped Lyric’s throat.
This woman is my twin.
She staggered back a step, clutching the frame to her chest as if it could steady her.
Panic surged, colliding with confusion in a dizzying, stomach-clenching wave.
She flipped the frame over, hands trembling.
In faded handwriting on the back:
Eden, 21 — Malachai, 10
Lyric stared at the names, her mind racing.
Eden.
Malachai.
And Eden had been pregnant—was it with Edwina?
Her thoughts spun.
Were Eden and Malachai mother and son?
