K I A R A
I didn’t know if I was just overthinking things but I had expected that a mother would mourn the loss of their child longer than this but, the next morning, Lyra was up and about.
And something about it irked me. And not in a good way. I would know if it’s a situation whereby she was trying to stay strong so as not to break down completely but this, this was different.
It didn’t seem like she wanted to mourn her son. It almost, dare I say, looked like she was happy to be rid of that baby.
I found her in the kitchen, making herself a cup of coffee. She was dressed and her hair was neatly tied back. She looked... fine. Too fine.
"Good morning," she said, when she saw me. "Sleep well?"
I stared at her, dumbfounded. "Good morning?" I asked. "Lyra, are you okay?"
"Of course,"
