Page 48 of Bound By Crimson

Chapter Forty-Eight

Flicker and Fade

Lyric had been preparing for his return since sunrise. He was gone longer than a few days—ten, to be exact.

New Year’s Eve had come and gone. Last year they’d spent it at a lavish party, where she felt radiant, wanted—like his entire world. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She wanted that feeling back.

She chose the soft wine-colored dress—fitted, elegant, stretching softly over the curve of her belly—one of the few things that still made her feel beautiful.

She brushed out her hair, letting it fall the way he liked it. And after a moment’s hesitation, she applied lipstick. A deeper red than usual. Her hand trembled slightly as she did it.

She hadn’t worn lipstick since the boutique closed.

The maid had asked if she wanted dinner in the sitting room or the dining hall. Lyric chose the dining hall. She asked them to light a few candles. Just a few. Enough to make it feel warm. Inviting.

Like something she remembered from a better time.

She was seated at the table when the clock struck seven.

Then eight.

Then almost nine.

The food was already cold when the door finally opened .

Kai stepped in, coat draped over his shoulder, collar slightly askew. He looked tired, yes—but not drained the way she expected. Just… distant.

“Hey,” he said, dropping his coat onto a chair. “You’re still up.”

She stood quickly, smoothing the dress over her hips. “Of course I’m up. I wanted to see you.”

He glanced toward the dining table. “Did you eat already?”

“I was waiting for you.”

Kai looked at her then—really looked. His gaze moved over the dress, the makeup, the soft waves in her hair.

“You look… nice,” he said. But it came out wrong.

More reflex than feeling.

She smiled anyway. “I wanted to look nice for you.”

He leaned in and kissed her forehead. Brief. Thoughtless. Then he stepped back.

“I’m wiped. I think I’m just gonna crash early tonight, okay?”

Her stomach dropped. “Do you want me to come with you?”

He hesitated. Just for a second.

But she felt it.

“Maybe just let me have the night. One good sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

She nodded, her smile faltering but holding. “Of course. You’ve been working so hard.”

He gave her one last, tired smile. “You’ve changed, Lyric. I see that. I’m proud of you.”

And then he was gone. Just like that.

She stood alone in the candlelight, the flames flickering across untouched plates and lipstick-stained wine glasses.

She whispered it aloud, as she turned off the lights.

“He’s just tired.”

“He’ll see me tomorrow.”

Still wearing the dress, she lay down on top of the covers in her cold bed.

One hand resting on her stomach.

The other tracing the curve of her locket.

She didn’t cry .

But she felt it—the ache in her chest.

Dull. Heavy. Stretching wider by the second.

And somewhere deep inside, she feared it wasn’t exhaustion at all.

It was distance, dressed like fatigue.