Years ago, she was his everything — his first love, the kind of love that made him smile at his phone in the middle of the night, the kind that made him defy rules and sneak out windows.

But his parents didn’t approve. They said she was wrong for the family. So they arranged for him to marry you.

He never looked at you the way he looked at her.

And on your wedding day, she vanished — no goodbye, no scene. Just gone.

8 Years Ago

In the sterile hospital room, the only sound was the soft cry of your newborn. He stood by the window, holding the baby tightly, his back to you.

“She’s here,” he whispered. “My daughter… she’s perfect.”

You watched silently.

“I’ll name her Lyra,” he said, voice gentle. “Lyra… it suits her.”

Your lips parted, but no words came.

You knew that name. You knew who it belonged to first. But you said nothing.

Present Day

The sun was setting. You were inside folding laundry, humming softly, unaware that your daughter had wandered to the front gate to play with her chalk.

She didn’t notice the woman standing nearby at first.

She was older now. Her hair a little longer, her smile softer — but her eyes were still the same.

The woman knelt down, eye-level with your daughter. “Hi there,” she said, smiling.

“Hi,” your daughter replied.

“You know… I loved your father once,” the woman said, quietly, like a secret. “But I didn’t belong to him.”

Your daughter tilted her head. “My dad?”

The woman nodded, her eyes filled with something unreadable.

“What’s your name?” your daughter asked.

A pause.

“Lyra,” she said.

The little girl blinked. “That’s my name too.”