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Lyra had already washed and changed clothes, she was putting the finishing touches on the dinner table by lighting a few extra romantic candles.

She looked over at the door with a smile as Henry emerged.

“Welcome home,” She said, hurrying over and giving him a kiss.

Henry embraced her as he usually did, but he felt a bit stiff.

She made a mental note to give him a massage later. 

Holding his hand, she guided him to the table, showing off her beautiful spread of dishes. 

Henry hadn’t said anything yet, so she was a bit disappointed, but didn’t think too much about it. She was determined to make this night a good one for the both of them.

She hurried off to grab the main dish as he rigidly took his seat.

“I hope you’re hungry,” Lyra said with a smile as she placed the covered tray on the table.

Henry didn’t respond.

He just sat there with an unreadable expression.

She couldn’t understand what was going on with him, he’d been acting strange for days and now he’s acting as if he doesn’t like roasted chicken? 

Henry, who had not said a word since returning home, was slowly infiltrated by a flood of emotions… and questions.

Why had the outside of their house been overwhelmed by such a strong metallic scent?

Why was Jack not in his usual spot to greet him when he’d arrived?

He started to feel overcome with shock… Disbelief.

Surely, this couldn’t be?

Lyra would never–

Annoyed at Henry, Lyra uncovered the beautiful roast with a pout.

She didn’t know why he was acting like this– 

Henry cupped a hand over his mouth and shot up.

His chair flew back wildly, eyes wide in shock. 

He felt nauseous… dizzy.

Like he might faint.

His body began to tremble as each breath he drew grew heavier.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could resist the urge to purge himself.

Henry’s mind simply couldn’t process what was going on.

Why would Lyra do something like this?

He couldn’t shake the feeling of betrayal grasping at his throat and tightening.

He- He couldn’t fucking breathe. 

“..Henry, what's wrong?” She asked, touching his shoulder.

He shot away from her and bolted out the front door…

It slammed shut behind him.

Lyra stood there staring after him, tray lid in hand.

She was hurt and confused.

Why would he run from her and why did he recoil from her touch?

She… didn’t understand.

She’d done everything for him.

All of this…

After a minute of standing in silence Lyra could hear Henry’s distant pained sobs.

Lyra paused.

Trying to figure out what to do, lost in thought, staring at the door after him…

Before she realized she didn’t need to do anything at all.

Her eyes went dark.

Without a word she pulled her kitchen chair out, the wood scraping against the floor.

She slowly sat down and grabbed her fork, stabbing the perfectly cooked bird.

Then she took a knife and with expert precision, cut a tender piece of meat off the bone.

Bringing it to her mouth.