The Cold War

Thirty minutes, Dominic just came out of the bathroom. He could see Lyra already lying on the bed, almost completely covered by the blanket. Her log messy hair spreading on the pillow. Dominic can’t see her face because of Lyra’s back to him. So Dominic didn’t know if Lyra was asleep or not. Would Lyra be able to sleep after he said such harsh words?

“Lyra,” Dominic called her. There was no reply, not even the slightest movement.

“Are you asleep?” asked Dominic again to confirm. Still no answer. Dominic stepped closer, confirming one more time. And Lyra was asleep. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted, breathing regularly. Dominic could see the tear marks on her cheeks. He felt even more guilty now.

Dominic put on his pajama, then lay down beside Lyra on the bed. He held her close, careful not to wake Lyra, then whispered in her ear, “I’m sorry, Lyra. I always make you cry. And sorry for ... always letting you down.” Dominic released h