Chapter 19
In the hospital room.
Lyra stood by the bed, staring at what was left of Joel–thin, still, pale. His chest barely moved.
Then he saw her–and for the first time in days, he smiled. Just a flicker. He reached for her hand, voice barely hanging on.
“Lyra, don’t cry. I’m sorry… I messed up. I mean it this time. Don’t feel guilty because I’m gone. Just… can you hold me? One last time?”
She bent down and wrapped her arms around him, voice cracked.
“Don’t die… Grandpa Dominic still needs you…”
Joel gave a soft, breathless laugh. He looked past her, out the window, where Weston stood waiting.
Then his eyes found hers again, full of something between regret and peace.
“Congrats on your marriage, my Lyra. I really hope you stay happy.”
Lyra walked out in tears.
In the hallway, Weston pulled her into his arms as she broke down, shaking.
“It’s not your fault. Don’t carry this.”
That night, the Fenwick family released Joel’s obituary.
Three days later was Joel’s funeral.
Lyra stood beside Weston, both in black, quiet among the crowd. Her eyes were rimmed red as she stared at the coffin.
“Next time… pick a better girl,” she whispered. “I hope you’re happy, Joel. Wherever you are.”
***
Six months later, Lyra and Weston finally held their wedding celebration.
The whole venue screamed speed and adrenaline–racing theme from start to finish. Weston had spent two months making sure every detail matched Lyra’s taste. No business crowd, just tight–knit friends and family.
During the toasts, Glenda looked over at Lyra in her wedding dress, beaming as she gently patted her hand.
“Don’t rush into kids. Weston told us not to pressure you if you’re not ready.”
Lyra glanced at Weston–sharp in a black suit, that signature soft smile lighting up his face. Her heart swelled.
“We’ll see, Glenda.”
When she made her way to Deborah, her mom was already tearing up, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.
