Lyra's POV
Pretending everything was normal during the start of my week felt like swallowing glass. Each smile I forced, every casual conversation I engaged in, carved deeper wounds into my already raw emotions. Nyx kept insisting that Alaric would come to his senses eventually, that he would realize his mistake. Her optimism grated against my cynicism, especially when I could still see the wild, untamed look in his eyes whenever Octavia was near.
The thought of them together became the central torment of my sleepless nights. Every dream began the same way, a heated fantasy where Alaric and I found ourselves alone in the training facility showers. The steam would curl around us as his hands explored my body, and I could see everything reflected in the mirror mounted on the wall behind us. His muscled back would flex as he moved against me, and I would arch into him, lost in the sensation.
