Transmigrated Into The True Heiress-Chapter 141: Night Began

When she realized what she was doing—and more importantly, where she was—Ephyra’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red. She hurriedly let go of his shirt and tried to push herself off his lap. But before she could, Lyle’s arms tightened slightly around her waist, holding her in place.

She stilled, her heart thundering in her chest. "What are you—" she began, her voice laced with both confusion and embarrassment.

Lyle met her gaze, his amber eyes steady and unyielding. There was a flicker of something there—possessiveness, perhaps, or a quiet refusal. But then, just as quickly as it had appeared, his expression softened. Without a word, he loosened his hold and let his arms fall away.

Freed, Ephyra quickly scrambled off his lap, smoothing down the wrinkled fabric of her gown as she stepped back toward the bed. "Sorry," she mumbled, avoiding his gaze as she perched on the edge of the mattress.

For a moment, the room was quiet, the weight of her apology hanging in the air. Lyle raised a brow as he watched her. "What are you apologizing for?" he asked, his tone calm but laced with curiosity.

Ephyra glanced at him briefly, then looked away, her fingers fidgeting with the quilts on the bed. "For... everything, I guess," she shrugged. "Falling. Waking you up. And..." Her voice trailed off as she shook her head, refusing to say more.

Lyle’s lips curved into a faint smile. "You’re apologizing for things that weren’t your fault," he said. His voice carried a teasing lilt, but there was also a quiet reassurance behind it. "You didn’t wake me up, by the way. I wasn’t asleep."

Ephyra frowned, finally meeting his gaze. "You weren’t?"

He shook his head. "No. I was awake. I heard you the moment you got out of bed," he admitted, his tone almost amused. "You’re not exactly stealthy."

Her eyes narrowed, her embarrassment quickly morphing into mild irritation. "Then why didn’t you say something?"

Lyle shrugged, leaning back in the chair. "I wanted to see what you’d do," he said simply. His smirk returned, faint but infuriatingly smug. At least to Ephyra. "And I wasn’t disappointed."

Ephyra gaped at him, her jaw tightening in frustration before narrowing her eyes. "You are not Lyle, are you?"

As soon as she said that, Lyle’s expression turned unreadable. "I wanted to make you feel better in some way."

Ephyra blinked, stunned into silence by his admission. She hadn’t expected him to say something so... sincere. Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

"Why?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why are you doing all of this for me?"

Lyle leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he met her gaze. "Because I think I understand what you are feeling," he said simply. "And because I meant what I said last night. You’ll never have to face them—or anything—alone again. We are married, making me your family."

Ephyra stared at him, her chest tightening. She wanted to doubt him, to call his words manipulative or self-serving, but the sincerity in his voice made it impossible. And she could feel it, she could feel that every word he spoke was the truth.

"You don’t even know me that much," she murmured, almost to herself. "We may be married but it’s not like we are that close."

"I might not know much but I know enough," he replied, his tone firm. "I know you’ve been fighting battles alone with no one to understand you. I know you’ve been hurt by people who were supposed to protect you. And I know you’re stronger than anyone gives you credit for."

His words struck a chord deep within her as if he wasn’t actually talking about the dead Ephyra but Eira Kingston, her past self and she looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "I don’t feel strong," she admitted. "Not after last night." Not after knowing that both my life was among someone’s plan. Even if that person was the mother she never knew she had.

"Strength isn’t about not breaking," Lyle said, his voice gentler now. "It’s about getting back up, even when everything in you wants to give up. You’ve been doing that your whole life, Ephyra. That’s strength."

Her throat tightened, and she blinked back the tears threatening to spill. No one had ever spoken to her like this before—not with such understanding, such conviction.

Lyle stood then, moving to the side of the bed. "You don’t have to say anything," he told her, his voice steady. "But you should eat something. I’ll have Jania bring breakfast up."

Before he could step away, Ephyra reached out, her fingers brushing against his hand. He paused, looking down at her.

"Stay," she said quietly, her voice trembling.

He didn’t hesitate. He sat back down, his presence a quiet reassurance that she wasn’t alone.

For the first time in years, Ephyra allowed herself to lean on someone else, even if just for a moment. She didn’t know where this strange relationship and connection with Lyle would lead, but for now, she chose to trust the one person who had promised never to leave her.

"Thank you, Lyle–" The shrill sound of a phone ringing cut through the moment, startling Ephyra, pulling her out of the rare vulnerability she had allowed herself to feel.

She frowned and looked around, wondering who the hell was calling her when Lyle spoke, "There, on the nightstand."

Ephyra followed his gaze to her phone lying on the nightstand beside her. The screen was on and when she picked it up and saw the name on the screen, she tightened her grip on it.

Malia.

Ephyra didn’t answer right away, her thumb hovering over the screen as the phone continued to ring. She hesitated, debating whether to let it go to voicemail, but just before the call was about to cut off, she swiped the screen and brought it to her ear.

"Oh, thank God you answered! I was scared you wouldn’t, and a thousand thoughts went through my head. Ephyra? Hello? Are you there? E-Ephyra?" Malia’s voice was trembling, frantic, and filled with an emotion that made Ephyra’s chest tighten.

Her grip on the phone tightened slightly as she took a steadying breath. "Malia," she said evenly, trying to keep her tone neutral.

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, followed by a rush of words that spilled out between quiet sobs. "Ephyra? Ephyra, I’m so sorry... I didn’t know. I-I didn’t know you went through all of that. We didn’t know what you were dealing with. I’m so, so sorry. I—"

"Malia, stop," Ephyra interrupted, her voice firm but not unkind. "Stop crying. Please."

"I can’t—I can’t stop. Ephyra, I feel so guilty. We were your friends, but we didn’t see it. We didn’t see what was happening to you, what they were doing to you. We failed you. I failed you. And now–" Malia choked on her words, her sobs growing louder. "I just—how could I have been so blind? How could I have let you go through all of that alone? I should’ve been there for you, Ephyra. I should’ve done something!"

Ephyra closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. She could feel the raw guilt radiating through the phone, and it stirred something in her that she wasn’t ready to confront. "Malia, listen to me," she said softly but firmly. "None of this is your fault. You didn’t know because I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want anyone to know."

"But why?" Malia’s voice broke, desperate for an answer. "Why didn’t you trust us? Me, Orla, Cyran—we would have helped you, Ephyra. You didn’t have to go through it alone."

Ephyra let out a heavy sigh, her gaze shifting to the window as her free hand clenched in her lap. "You don’t get it," she said quietly. "It wasn’t about trust. It was about survival. You think I could’ve just come to you and said, ’Oh, by the way, my stepmother wants me dead, my stepsister ruined my life, and the guy I loved betrayed me?’" She let out a bitter laugh. "What were you supposed to do with that, Malia? What could anyone have done?"

Malia’s sobs quieted, replaced by a heavy silence. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. "We could’ve been there for you. Maybe we couldn’t have fixed anything, but we could’ve at least been there."

Ephyra’s throat tightened, but she forced herself to push the emotion aside. "Maybe," she admitted, her voice softer now. "But it doesn’t matter anymore. What’s done is done. I dealt with it the way I had to."

"That doesn’t mean you had to do it alone," Malia said, her tone steadier now, though still tinged with sadness. "We’re your friends, Ephyra. At least... I hope we still are."

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, Ephyra didn’t respond. Her eyes flicked to Lyle, who was watching her silently from the chair, his expression unreadable but his presence grounding.

"Malia," she said finally, her voice quieter now, almost gentle. "I don’t know what we are anymore. I don’t even know who I am anymore. But... if you still want to be my friend, I won’t stop you."

A muffled sob came from the other end of the line, followed by a shaky laugh. "Of course I still want to be your friend, you idiot," Malia said, her voice breaking with emotion. "I don’t care how much has changed. You’re still Ephyra to me."

Ephyra’s chest ached at the sincerity in Malia’s words, and for the first time since last night, she felt a faint spark of something she couldn’t quite name. Hope, maybe. Or relief.

"Thank you," she said softly, her voice almost cracking.

The sound of someone clearing their throat drew Ephyra’s attention, and she glanced up to see Lyle standing, his gaze fixed on her with quiet intensity. He gestured toward the door, silently letting her know he’d step out to give her privacy if she needed it. ƒгeewebnovёl.com

Ephyra shook her head subtly, her hand tightening on the phone. "Malia," she said, her tone more composed now. "I have to go. But... thank you for calling."

"Will you call me back?" Malia asked, a note of hope in her voice.

"I will," Ephyra promised, surprising even herself. "Just... not right away."

"That’s okay," Malia said softly. "Take your time. I’ll be here."

"Wait—Ephyra, are you okay? Where are you? Are you safe?" Malia’s frantic questions poured through the receiver.

"I’m fine," she said softly. "I’ll call you later. I promise."

Ephyra ended the call and set the phone down, staring at it for a moment before glancing up at Lyle. His violet eyes held hers, and for the first time since the night began, she felt a flicker of something other than anger and exhaustion.