The late afternoon sun was warm against Lyra’s skin as she wandered through the pack’s garden. Rows of herbs and flowers stretched before her, their earthy scent filling the air. Isla knelt near a patch of lavender, her hands deftly plucking at the plants. She looked up as Lyra approached, her expression softening at the sight of her daughter.
“Lyra,” Isla greeted warmly, brushing dirt from her hands as she stood. “I wasn’t expecting you here.”
Lyra hesitated, her gaze dropping to the ground. “I needed… someone to talk to.”
Isla tilted her head, studying her carefully. “Then you’ve come to the right place,” she said, motioning for Lyra to sit beside her on the stone bench near the garden’s edge.
For a moment, Lyra didn’t speak, her hands twisting in her lap. Finally, she broke the silence. “I don’t love him,” she admitted, her voice breaking under the weight of the confession. “Not the way I should.”
Isla’s expression softened, her eyes searching Lyra’s face. “It’s not easy, is it?” she said quietly.
Lyra shook her head, tears threatening to spill. “He wants to build a life with me. He says we’ll have a family. But my heart… my heart is somewhere else. Adrian—”
“Adrian is married,” Isla interrupted gently but firmly. “You have to let him go, Lyra. Clinging to what could have been will only hurt you more.”
Lyra’s shoulders slumped, the truth of Isla’s words cutting deeper than she’d expected. “What if I never feel that way about Cassian?”
Isla’s gaze grew distant as she leaned back slightly, her hands resting on her knees.
“When I first bonded with Draven, it wasn’t love either,” she said, her voice tinged with memory. “We were strangers tied by duty. I didn’t know him, and he didn’t know me. But bonds have a way of growing, Lyra. Sometimes, love comes later, after you’ve walked through the hard parts together.”
Lyra turned to her, surprised. “You didn’t love him at first?”
Isla smiled faintly.
“No, I didn’t. But over time, we faced challenges together, built trust, and found something deeper. Now, I couldn’t imagine life without him. Love isn’t always immediate, and it doesn’t always look the way you think it will.”
The words offered Lyra a faint glimmer of hope, though doubt still lingered in her heart. “But what if it doesn’t happen? What if I’m just pretending?”
Isla reached out, taking Lyra’s hands in her own.
“Then you take it one day at a time. You give it a chance. You owe that much to yourself—and to him.”
Lyra nodded slowly, the tension in her chest easing just slightly. Isla’s wisdom was comforting, but the path ahead still felt uncertain. As she rose to leave, Isla’s voice followed her.
“Sometimes love isn’t a spark, but a slow burn. Don’t give up on it before it has a chance to grow.”