Page 56 of Bound By Crimson
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The decision didn’t come easily.
A few days before the realtor came, Lyric walked to the cemetery just after sunrise.
The air was crisp, the ground damp with frost. She pulled the sweater tighter around her and walked the familiar path, the crunch of gravel beneath her boots, loud in the morning quiet.
She stopped in front of the headstone.
Her parents’ names carved in soft gray stone.
Two lives. One date.
She crouched down, brushing a few stray leaves from the base of the marker. For a long time, she said nothing. Just sat with them. Let the silence speak first.
“I might sell the house,” she whispered finally.
Her voice cracked.
“I don’t know if it’s what you’d want, but… I can’t stay there. Not like this. It doesn’t feel like home anymore. It just feels… empty.”
She held in a sob as the guilt ripped through her.
“I’m scared that by letting go of the house, I’m letting go of you. But staying there… it’s like holding my breath every second I’m inside it.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat.
“I know you’d want me to be happy. You wouldn’t want me sitting in that house, clinging to memories like they’re chains.”
Her fingers traced the engraved letters.
“I met someone. He makes me feel seen—wanted. I’ve told him all about you. He listens. Hereallylistens. I’ve never felt like this before. He makes me happy.”
A tear slipped down her cheek. She didn’t wipe it away.
“I won’t be able to visit as much,” she added softly. “Maybe not at all for a while. But I’ll carry you with me—everywhere. In everything.”
She reached up and gently grasped the locket around her neck, her thumb brushing its worn edges. Then she wrapped her father’s cardigan tighter around herself, like a hug.
“I love you both so much. I’ll be okay.”
She stood slowly, gave the stone one last look.
“Please forgive me if this isn’t what you would’ve wanted. I’m not trying to forget you—I just can’t keep living like I’m frozen in time.”
Then she turned to leave—her parents now carried not just in memory but stitched into the fabric of her every step.
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On the day the realtor came to photograph the house, Lyric stood in the doorway of her childhood bedroom, hands gripping the frame until her knuckles ached. The air smelled faintly of lavender and dust. Her mother’s perfume still lingered in the curtains. Her father’s old flannel was folded on the shelf where she’d left it months ago.
“You can always change your mind,” Velora said softly from behind her.
But Lyric couldn’t. Not without undoing everything. Not without breaking promises she’d already made—to Kai, and to herself.
“I’m ready,” she whispered, though part of her wasn’t.
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