Page 15 of Bound By Crimson
Chapter Fifteen
The Hardest Goodbye
The days that followed were a blur of motion and magic.
Paris came first.
They drank espresso in tucked-away cafés, wandered narrow streets hand-in-hand, and kissed beneath the soft glow of streetlamps.
Kai never left her side. Even when business pulled him into meetings, he brought her along, introducing her with quiet pride. When he couldn’t, he sent her with Thomas, who had come to Europe with them and quietly became a steady, protective presence.
Lyric made sure to keep Velora updated—sending photos, funny stories, and messages almost daily. She didn’t want her to worry.
Velora teased that she was living the dream, but Lyric could still sense the caution in her texts.
“Just be careful, honey. Don’t lose yourself.”
---
Then Rome.
He surprised her with a red dress waiting on the balcony of their villa, saying she looked like fire and he wanted to burn .
They walked through ruins and whispered secrets in the dark.
At night, he worshipped her body with the same reverence he gave ancient statues, tracing every curve like a prayer.
---
Madrid. Vienna.
A week by the sea in Santorini.
They danced in the rain in Barcelona.
He bought her a ring in Florence—not an engagement ring, but something delicate and gold, meant for her middle finger.
“So the world knows you’re mine,” he whispered as he slid it on.
---
By the time they flew back to the U.S. in mid-October, Lyric wasn’t just in love.
She was consumed.
On the tarmac, Kai cupped her face between his hands, searching her eyes with that dangerous, aching intensity.
“Come to New York,” he murmured. “Live with me. I don’t want to be without you.”
Her breath caught, heart warring between impulse and loyalty.
She had to go home—back to Pennsylvania, to her house, her roots— her parents’ house .
It wasn’t just a building. It held the echoes of her childhood, her mother’s laughter, her father’s faded cologne, the memories of birthdays and Christmas mornings and quiet, ordinary days.
It was the last piece of them she had left.
She promised she would think about it. But he already knew her answer. Then he kissed her like a vow.
---
October drifted into early November .
Back home, the house felt both comforting and suffocating.
Velora checked in often, making sure everything was fine. Lyric told her it was. She was safe. She was just figuring things out.
But every day without Kai stretched longer.
And he never let her forget him.
Texts. Calls. Late-night voicemails.
“I can't sleep without you.”
“I wake up reaching for you.”
“Pennsylvania is too far.”
“You belong with me.”
At first, his words made her blush. Then ache.
Then—crave.
She tried to busy herself with work at the shop—dusting antique mirrors, arranging moonstone rings, restocking crystal shelves—but every moment away from him felt heavier than the last.
---
By mid November, the chill deepened.
Her once-cozy home now felt too large, too empty.
As she sat alone one night, scrolling through holiday sales and event flyers, she realized something devastating.
She would be alone for Christmas.
No parents. No family dinners.
No laughter. No warmth.
Just a quiet house filled with fading memories and empty rooms.
And Kai was only a few hours away.
Calling. Waiting. Wanting her.
---
Now she couldn’t deny it any longer.
She wanted him.
She wanted belonging .
And this house—this shrine to the past—was suffocating her.
---
The decision didn’t come easily.
A few days before the realtor came, Lyric walked to the cemetery just after sunrise.
The air was crisp, the ground damp with frost. She pulled the sweater tighter around her and walked the familiar path, the crunch of gravel beneath her boots, loud in the morning quiet.
She stopped in front of the headstone.
Her parents’ names carved in soft gray stone.
Two lives. One date.
She crouched down, brushing a few stray leaves from the base of the marker. For a long time, she said nothing. Just sat with them. Let the silence speak first.
“I might sell the house,” she whispered finally.
Her voice cracked.
“I don’t know if it’s what you’d want, but… I can’t stay there. Not like this. It doesn’t feel like home anymore. It just feels… empty.”
She held in a sob as the guilt ripped through her.
“I’m scared that by letting go of the house, I’m letting go of you. But staying there… it’s like holding my breath every second I’m inside it.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat.
“I know you’d want me to be happy. You wouldn’t want me sitting in that house, clinging to memories like they’re chains.”
Her fingers traced the engraved letters.
“I met someone. He makes me feel seen—wanted. I’ve told him all about you. He listens. He really listens. I’ve never felt like this before. He makes me happy.”
A tear slipped down her cheek. She didn’t wipe it away.
“I won’t be able to visit as much,” she added softly. “Maybe not at all for a while. But I’ll carry you with me—everywhere. In everything. ”
She reached up and gently grasped the locket around her neck, her thumb brushing its worn edges. Then she wrapped her father’s cardigan tighter around herself, like a hug.
“I love you both so much. I’ll be okay.”
She stood slowly, gave the stone one last look.
“Please forgive me if this isn’t what you would’ve wanted. I’m not trying to forget you—I just can’t keep living like I’m frozen in time.”
Then she turned to leave—her parents now carried not just in memory but stitched into the fabric of her every step.
---
On the day the realtor came to photograph the house, Lyric stood in the doorway of her childhood bedroom, hands gripping the frame until her knuckles ached.
The air smelled faintly of lavender and dust. Her mother’s perfume still lingered in the curtains.
Her father’s old flannel was folded on the shelf where she’d left it months ago.
“You can always change your mind,” Velora said softly from behind her.
But Lyric couldn’t. Not without undoing everything. Not without breaking promises she’d already made—to Kai, and to herself.
“I’m ready,” she whispered, though part of her wasn’t.
---
Packing was harder than she expected.
Old clothes. Books. Trinkets.
Photographs of birthdays, family vacations, sleepy Christmas mornings.
But nothing broke her more than the box .
The box she’d found months ago in the back of her parents’ closet—the one with the pink baby blanket patterned with tiny music notes. The adoption papers. The note in careful, desperate handwriting:
Her name is Lyric. Please take care of her .
She hesitated, fingers brushing the worn cardboard flap.
For months, she had pushed it back into the closet, unable to face what it meant.
“You okay?” Velora asked gently from behind her.
Lyric swallowed hard. “There’s something I need to show you.”
She opened the box.
Velora’s breath caught the moment she saw the blanket and the papers. Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God, honey... you’ve been holding this in all this time?”
Lyric nodded, tears pricking her eyes. “I found it after my parents died. I—I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t want to believe it.”
Velora pulled her into a fierce hug. “Oh, sweetheart. I wish you hadn’t carried this alone. Your parents... they would have loved you no matter what. Blood doesn’t change that.”
Lyric clung to her, letting the weight of secrecy and grief finally fall away.
“You take that box with you,” Velora whispered. “It’s part of your story. Maybe... a piece of the puzzle. Something you’ll figure out when the time’s right.”
Lyric nodded, voice thick. “Okay.”
She sealed it gently, labeled it by hand, and set it aside for the movers.
Some things—no matter how painful—need to follow you, waiting to be faced when the time is right.
---
By late November, the sale was finalized.
The house no longer belonged to her.
Her childhood—her past—had been boxed up and sent ahead with the movers.
---
Kai came for her himself.
The Bentley felt warmer than it should have on a cold December evening. He took her hand the moment she slid into the seat, fingers tightening as if he feared she might change her mind.
“Welcome home,” he whispered.
They drove for hours, the sun sinking into a blood-orange sky, the world darkening until the horizon glittered with the lights of New York City.
As they crossed into Manhattan, Lyric’s breath caught.
Christmas lights spilled across the skyline like falling stars.
Towering buildings loomed above her, glittering and cold, stretching into a night sky that seemed endless.
Lyric leaned into the window, breath fogging the glass. The city seemed alive beneath a canopy of stars—lights flashing across the skyline, crowds bundled in scarves, the scent of roasted chestnuts curling through the winter air.
As they turned into Times Square, the world exploded into color. Giant screens blazed with advertisements. Neon signs painted the sidewalks. Crowds surged like rivers between towering buildings.
The city was alive—a carnival, a storm, a kingdom where the powerful ruled and the lost disappeared.
“Oh my god,” she whispered. “This is... crazy.”
“This is yours now,” Kai said softly, brushing a hand against her knee. “Your new beginning.”
Her chest tightened—not from fear, but awe.
She wasn’t just visiting anymore.
She wasn’t waiting.
She was his.
---
Thomas pulled into a private driveway beside a sleek, steel-and-glass building accented with wrought iron. Gothic spires crowned the upper levels, their black silhouettes cutting into the night sky.
The doorman stepped forward, nodding without a word as Kai opened her door.
“This is home now,” Kai said quietly.
Home .
Her heart stuttered.
She took his hand.
---
The private elevator glided upward in silence. As the city dropped away below them, Lyric’s pulse rose in time with the soft hum of the cables.
The doors parted into shadowed luxury.
Marble floors gleamed beneath velvet drapes the color of wine. Sconces flickered along dark walls. A chandelier like frozen stars hung from a coffered ceiling. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed the city stretching into eternity.
It wasn’t just an apartment.
It was a palace in the sky.
Her heels clicked softly against the marble as she stepped deeper into the space.
“You live here?”
Kai turned toward her, cocking his head slightly. “ We live here,” he said, the emphasis unmistakable.
Heat rose to her cheeks. The room felt enormous, overwhelming—yet the moment he said it, the word home finally felt real.
---
He led her through double doors into a vast walk-in closet.
It wasn’t just a closet.
It was a cathedral of silk and velvet.
Shelves curved along the walls, wrapped in golden light. Lace and satin whispered from their hangers. Velvet gowns pooled like spilled ink. Jewelry sparkled in glass cases, catching the glow like captured starlight.
The scent of oud and rose lingered in the air—haunting, decadent, intimate.
Lyric stepped forward, fingers brushing the edge of a midnight blue gown.
“These... these are all mine? ”
Kai came up behind her. His arms circled her waist, drawing her against his chest. His breath warmed her neck before his lips brushed her skin.
“I’m so glad you came to me,” he murmured. “Now you fully belong to me. This city, this life—I’ll give you everything.”
A shiver ran through her.
No one’s ever done this much for me, she thought, her throat tightening.
Her phone buzzed softly in her pocket. She slipped it free, expecting some generic notification.
Velora: You deserve this.
Lyric’s breath caught.
Divine timing, she thought. That’s what Velora would call it.
As if the universe was telling her, she was exactly where she was meant to be.
---
She looked out across the skyline, the endless sea of lights, and let the last weight of doubt fall away.
Whatever came next—
She was ready.