Page 82 of Bound By Crimson

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Lyric melted into him, every ache in her body soothed by the familiar weight of his embrace.

“You’re burning the candle at both ends,” he said against her hair.

“I’m okay,” she lied.

He leaned back enough to look at her, studying her flushed cheeks, the faint circles under her eyes.

“You’ve done enough,” he repeated softly. “I don’t want you running yourself into the ground.”

“I’m not.”

“You don’t have to prove anything anymore,” he said gently. “Not to me. Not to anyone. You know that, right?”

“Isn’t this enough? Me, this life, us?”

Lyric nodded, throat tight.

But she also knew—this was only the beginning.

And if it already felt this heavy… how much worse would it get?

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A new ritual started Friday nights—Kai was home, and he cooked.

Or rather—he ordered in from her favorite place and plated it like he had cooked.

Lyric laughed when she saw the candles he’d lit on the table, the fake homemade meal, the folded napkins.

“This is cheating,” she teased.

“Survival instincts,” he corrected. “You’re starving. I’m terrible with a stove. This is called adapting.”

They ate together, slow for once, without phones buzzing or people asking for things.

It felt normal. Real.

She told him about a woman who had cried trying on one of her jackets—about the little girl who asked if she could grow up to be ‘a Lyric too’.”

Kai listened. Really listened.

But when she grew too animated talking about her future designs, his hand closed over hers.

“You’ve accomplished so much already,” he said quietly. “Remember, you don’t have to keep chasing more.”

It sounded like praise.

But it felt like a warning.

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When they crawled into bed, Kai wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.

Tighter than usual.

“You’ve been so busy lately,” he murmured. “I just want you here.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

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