Chapter 54

Lyra

The second the cold air hit my face, I lost it.

I didn’t even make it down the steps. I just collapsed onto the front porch like my legs gave out, like my body finally got the memo that my soul had already left the chat. My knees hit the concrete, and I curled in on myself, hugging my arms so tight around my chest you’d think I was trying to hold my heart in place.

And then I started crying.

Not cute crying. Not sniffles or delicate tears or the kind of weeping you do in slow-motion under the rain with dramatic piano music. No. This was the ugly kind.

The loud, snotty, gasping kind. My nose was running. My face was soaked. My eyeliner had given up and was now somewhere halfway down my chin. My chest felt like it was caving in, and my breath kept catching like my lungs were glitching.

And the worst part?

I couldn’t stop talking.

“Fuck,” I whispered first, the word dragging out of my mouth like it weighed five tons. “Fuck. Fu