Page 212 of Bound By Crimson
And walked back to her room like she had never left.
Chapter Seventy-Eight
Crumbs of Freedom
Lyric lost count of how many times she crept down the hallway, heart pounding, just to hold him.
Noah started to expect her.
Sometimes, when she opened the nursery door, he was already stirring.
When he saw her, his eyes lit up.
He’d reach for her, arms outstretched.
A sleepy smile spreading across his face like he’d been waiting.
Every time, it broke her.
And every time, it healed her.
She fed him when bottles were left nearby.
Rocked him until his lashes fluttered closed again.
Whispered stories she remembered from her own childhood.
Songs her mother had sung—not Eden—Marianne.
He’d wrap his hand around her finger.
Sometimes around a lock of her hair.
And she’d sit in the dark, memorizing the curve of his nose, the shape of his toes, the sound of his breath.
By day, she was someone else.
Still. Weak. Obedient.
She stayed in bed, eyes dull, movements slow. Just enough to look weak.
Mrs. Thornwick would enter sometimes without knocking.
Standing at the edge of the bed, watching.
Her arms crossed. Her eyes hunting for proof of progress.
She never asked how Lyric was feeling.
She just stared.
Once, she smiled faintly and said, “Good girl. Rest while you still can.”
Then turned and left.
Lyric always waited a full hour after those visits before moving.
She kept a mental tally.
