Lyra’s POV

I was home.

The realization settled in my chest, warm and comforting.

“Thank you for helping me out,” I told Bethany as we carried the babies into the room, heading to the cribs that was adorned with a gold nameplate that shimmered under the soft glow of the overhead light.

The room was breathtaking, far more spacious than I had expected. The walls were painted in warm shades of white and brown, creating a sense of peace and comfort. Above us, the ceiling was a masterpiece, painted with an artistic display of the sky, soft, wispy clouds stretched across the canvas, giving the illusion of endless serenity.

Three...