The cemetery was silent.
Not peaceful — never peaceful — but heavy. The kind of silence that pressed against skin and made even breathing feel loud.
Lyra walked ahead, fingers curled tightly around the bouquet of white lilies.
Rowan followed beside her, hands shoved into his pockets, jaw locked.
Neither of them spoke.
They never did when they came here.
Their mother's grave stood beneath the old ash tree, marble polished, untouched by time yet cruelly unchanged.
Selena Ashbourne.
Beloved mother.
Gone too soon.
Lyra stepped forward first.
Then stopped.
Rowan nearly walked into her.
"…Lyra?"
She didn't answer.
Because someone was already there.
A woman.
Standing directly in front of the grave.
Still.
Unmoving.
Dressed entirely in black.
For a moment, Rowan thought she was part of the scenery — a shadow cast by the dying afternoon light.
Then she shifted.
Barely.
And reality snapped into place.
Lyra's grip tightened around the flowers.
Rowan's stomach dropped.
They knew that silhouette.
Everyone did.
Raina.
She didn't turn.
Didn't acknowledge them.
She simply stood there, eyes fixed on the marble stone like it was the only thing anchoring her to the world.
The wind stirred softly, lifting strands of her dark hair.
But she remained motionless.
Lyra swallowed.
"…It's her."
Rowan didn't answer.
Because something about this felt… wrong.
Not hostile.
Not threatening.
Just…
Unbearably sad.
Slowly — almost cautiously — Lyra stepped forward.
The crunch of gravel under her shoes echoed like thunder.
Raina's fingers tightened at her sides.
But she still didn't look back.
Rowan followed.
Every instinct screamed tension, discomfort, confusion — emotions they didn't know how to process.
They had grown up hearing stories about this woman.
Stories filled with blame.
With bitterness.
With anger.
Yet…
This didn't look like a villain.
Lyra placed the flowers down quietly.
The soft thud seemed to break something invisible.
Raina finally moved.
Not toward them.
But downward.
Her fingers brushed the grave.
A slow, trembling touch.
Like someone reaching for something already lost.
Her voice came next.
Low.
Fragile.
"…You always hated lilies."
Lyra froze.
Rowan's breath caught.
Raina's thumb traced the engraved name.
"And yet… here they are again."
There was no bitterness.
No sarcasm.
Only memory.
Then—
She turned.
Sea-blue eyes met storm-grey ones.
Silence crashed between them.
Lyra had imagined this moment a thousand times.
Cold stares.
Sharp tension.
Maybe even anger.
But what she saw instead…
Made her chest tighten.
Because Raina looked at them like she'd been struck.
Not with shock.
But recognition.
Something deep.
Something painful.
Something almost…
Protective.
Rowan straightened instinctively.
Guarded.
Suspicious.
Raina's gaze flicked between them.
Slow.
Careful.
Disbelieving.
"…You grew."
The words escaped her like a breath she didn't mean to release.
Lyra's pulse spiked.
Rowan stiffened.
Neither of them knew what to say.
Because no one had ever looked at them like that before.
Not Chloe.
Not Lucian.
No one.
Like they were seeing ghosts.
Raina's composure snapped back instantly.
Emotion sealed.
Expression neutral.
Walls rebuilt.
But the damage was done.
They had seen it.
That crack.
That flicker.
"I didn't expect company," she said calmly.
Lyra found her voice first.
"This is our mother."
A simple statement.
But sharp.
Defensive.
Raina's eyes softened for half a second.
"I know."
No hesitation.
No doubt.
Just truth.
Rowan's stare hardened.
"Then you should move."
Lyra shot him a glance, but the words had already landed.
Raina didn't react.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't argue.
She simply stepped aside.
Graceful.
Silent.
Like yielding ground in a war she wasn't ready to fight.
But before walking away…
She paused.
Eyes returning to the grave.
Voice quieter now.
"She loved daises."
Lyra blinked.
"…Who?"
Raina's gaze lifted slowly.
And for the first time—
There was something dangerously unreadable there.
"Your mother."
Then she walked past them.
Black silk whispering against the wind.
Leaving behind silence.
Confusion.
And something far more unsettling.
Questions.
Rowan exhaled slowly.
Lyra stared after her.
Neither of them spoke.
Because something inside them — something small but undeniable —
Had just shifted.