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The next morning after a night that seemed like forever, Lyra woke early, slipping out of bed before Mason stirred. She dressed quickly, eager to escape the suffocating tension in their home.

The air outside was crisp, the sky a soft pink and blue as the sun began to rise over the horizon. She made her way to the festival grounds, needing the distraction of work to keep her mind from spiraling out.

Jessy was already there, overseeing the preparations with her ever boiling enthusiasm.

“Lyra!” she called out, waving Lyra over with a bright smile. “Come see how the decorations turned out. I think you’ll absolutely love it.”

Lyra smiled weakly, still grateful for Jessy’s energy. It was easy to pretend that everything was fine when Jessy was around, to push the doubts and fears to the back of her head. But even as they walked through the festival grounds, inspecting the decorations and discussing the final details, Lyra couldn’t shake the feeling of her predicament.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Jessy asked "You need to talk to me Lyra, I'm your friend and you're getting me worried"

Jessy’s voice cut through the fog of Lyra’s thoughts, soft but inspecting. It had that gentle, coaxing tone Jessy used when she sensed something was wrong but didn’t want to push too hard for you to break. Lyra hated how transparent she must have seemed, how her feelings were slipping through the carefully constructed mask she had on.

“I’m fine, we've talked about this already. You shouldn't bother yourself” Lyra insisted, her smile faltering as she glanced over the decorations in a bid to detach from the interrogation.

Everything looked perfect—the banners of the Crest Pack colors, the lanterns strung up between trees, the intricate designs etched into the festival’s stage. The setting was breathtaking, but it did little to soothe the tightness in her chest.

Jessy tilted her head, her eyes narrowing with the kind of scrutiny that made Lyra want to sink into the ground. “You don’t seem fine. You’ve been off for weeks, Lyra. And don’t tell me it’s the festival— because I know it’s not just that.”

Lyra felt her heart pounding in her chest, a strange panic throdding in her throat. She turned away from Jessy, pretending to adjust one of the flower arrangements.

“It’s nothing, really. I just have a lot on my mind.”

There was silence for a brief moment, and Lyra could feel Jessy’s eyes still heavy on her, weighing her words, perhaps searching for cracks in her story. When Jessy spoke again, her voice was lower, softer.

“Is it Mason?” she asked.

The question hit Lyra like a hammer. She flinched before she could stop herself, her fingers tightening around the stem of the flower arrangement. Jessy’s words hung in the air between them like a cloud, thick and charged, making it impossible for Lyra to avoid the truth.

“What makes you say that?” Lyra’s voice came out pale, barely holding the fragile calm she tried to project.

Jessy sighed, stepping even closer, her expression sympathetic. "Well there are only two major things that could possibly put you in this state, I definitely know it's not this festival preparations because hello? Your best friend is here!" She waved her fingers in the air. "So it must be home, Mason" Jessy stared at Lyra as if to dig the truth with her eyes.

“You know you can tell me anything, right? We’ve been through everything together. If something’s wrong with you and Mason, I want to help Lyra. Maybe there’s something I can do...”

Lyra turned to face her friend, the words building inside her like a dam ready to break open. For so long, she had kept everything bottled up—the fear, the doubt, the pain of Mason’s growing distance cutting through her fabric like hot knife on butter. It wasn’t just the unspoken disappointment over her failure to conceive; it was the way he avoided her now, the coldness in his eyes whenever they spoke.

He obviously didn't even enjoy making love to her anymore. But despite the ache that consumed her every day, Lyra couldn’t bring herself to voice her suspicions aloud, not even to Jessy. It felt too much like giving those suspicions life.

“No,” Lyra said, forcing a smile that felt brittle on her face. “It’s not that I promise. I’ve just been tired, that’s all.”

Jessy studied her for another long moment that almost felt like forever, her brown eyes flickering with something unreadable. Then, slowly, she nodded. “If you say so.”

But there was a note of disbelief in her voice, as though she knew Lyra was holding something back from her. And maybe she did. Jessy had always been able to read her, even when Lyra didn’t want her to. I mean, what are friends for?