Lyra
SIX MONTHS LATER
“Why are you crying?”
I laughed before I could stop myself, the sound coming out wet and slightly undignified. I pressed the back of my hand against my cheek and looked at the mascara smeared across my knuckles.
Shit.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly, looking at myself in the mirror. “I genuinely don’t know.”
“You don’t know.” Sophie stared at me through the mirror. “Lyra. I spent one hour on that face.”
“I know—”
“One hour.”
“Sophie—”
“You are going to look like a raccoon if you keep crying.”
I laughed again, and she clicked her tongue. Reaching for the makeup brush, she began to fix what she could, and then she stepped back and looked at me. Her expression softened. She looked like she was about to cry, too.
“Don’t you dare,” I turned on her.
“I’m not g
