Transmigrated Into The True Heiress-Chapter 142: Bleeding Into The Next

Suddenly, she moved, wrapping her arms tightly around him, her body acting on impulse before her mind could catch up.

For a moment, Lyle froze, as if surprised by her sudden gesture. But then, instinctively, his arms circled her waist, pulling her closer. His movements were slow, deliberate, as though he were afraid she might pull away. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply. Her scent washed over him, warm and faintly sweet, and something inside him shifted. A calmness he hadn’t felt in years seeped into his very core, soothing the restless chaos that usually roared within him.

It was as if she were a missing piece he hadn’t known he was searching for—something that tethered him, made him feel whole, grounded, and human in a way he had long forgotten. He tightened his hold, his fingers pressing gently into her sides, a silent plea to keep her there just a little longer.

For Ephyra, realization struck like a lightning bolt. What the hell was she doing? She hadn’t meant to hug him—or anyone, for that matter. Her first instinct was to pull back, to scold herself for such a reckless act. But then she felt it—the steady rhythm of his heart, the warmth of his arms around her, and the way his broad frame pressed against her own. freewebnσvel.cøm

Something stirred inside her, something she hadn’t felt in so long she almost didn’t recognize it. An ache, a longing, an unfamiliar urge that both frightened and intrigued her. But an urge for what? To stay in his arms? To push him away? To trust him? She didn’t know, and a part of her didn’t want to find out.

Her mind raced, wanting to curse herself for letting this happen. What the hell is wrong with me? she thought bitterly. But even as the thought passed through her mind, she found herself unable to break the embrace.

Lyle, on the other hand, held her as if letting go wasn’t an option. His touch wasn’t demanding or forceful, but it radiated a quiet possessiveness that made it clear he wouldn’t extricate himself unless she pushed him away. He didn’t speak, didn’t move, and didn’t try to explain the moment.

Ephyra’s chest tightened, her body warring with itself. A voice in her head screamed at her to stop—to put distance between them before she got pulled deeper into something she wasn’t ready for. Yet another voice whispered to stay, to allow herself this moment of vulnerability.

What the hell is happening to me?

The question repeated in her mind, over and over, as her arms remained locked around him, refusing to let go.

However, the moment shattered with a knock at the door, followed by Jania’s soft, cautious voice. "Ephyra? Are you there?"

Ephyra’s body stiffened as if the spell that had bound her to the moment broke. She loosened her hold around Lyle and pushed him away. He let her, his hands falling reluctantly to his sides, though his gaze remained fixed on her. Without sparing him another glance, she bolted upright, her pulse hammering in her ears.

"Y-yes! I’m—uh—I’m here. Awake!" she called out, her voice uneven, betraying the tumult within her.

"Oh, that’s good," Jania responded, her tone careful, almost hesitant, as if afraid her words might cause more harm than good. "Can I come in? It’s alright if you don’t want to. If you’d prefer to be alone, that’s okay too. But... at least call someone if you need anything."

Jania’s gentleness only made Ephyra’s chest tighten further. Her mind, already fragile from the whirlwind of emotions, turned to darker memories, dragging her down like an anchor. It wasn’t just the banquet that haunted her or the fractured recollections of her new reality. No, it was everything.

She remembered the suffocating pain Ephyra went through, the hunger gnawing at her stomach like a feral beast. The loneliness, so vast and endless, it had swallowed her whole. The punishments she endured for mistakes other children would have been gently scolded for, only to be met with a forgiving smile afterward. Then the memories of her life as Eira, the cold, unyielding nights when she and Elmira were passed between relatives like unwanted parcels, only to be discarded completely.

The memories churned, one bleeding into the next: scouring through trash for scraps of food, begging in the marketplace with trembling hands, stealing just enough to survive bitter nights huddled in filthy alleyways. And then—the first life she ever took. She could still feel the weight of the knife in her hand, see the terror in the thug’s eyes as she drove it into him, desperate to protect Elmira from the monster he would have been.

Ephyra squeezed her eyes shut, willing the torrent of memories to stop, but they swirled like a whirlpool of darkness, pulling her deeper into their suffocating embrace. Her breath hitched as the darkness threatened to consume her, but then, finally, it ebbed, dissolving into nothingness. She swallowed hard, her throat tight as she opened her eyes, staring blankly at the door.

"I’m fine," she whispered, her voice low but steady, though she wasn’t entirely sure who she was trying to convince—Jania or herself. After a pause, she added, "I’ll be out soon."

Beyond the door, Jania hesitated before replying, her voice softer now. "Alright. Take your time, Ephyra." Footsteps retreated down the hallway, leaving the room in heavy silence.

Ephyra exhaled slowly, her gaze dropping to the floor as she clenched her hands into fists. She didn’t dare look at Lyle, who hadn’t moved from where she left him, his presence an unspoken weight in the room. Her chest tightened again, but this time it wasn’t from fear or anguish. It was something else entirely—something she wasn’t ready to name.

Without a word, Lyle stood up, his movements slow and deliberate, as if not to startle her. He stopped behind her, gently placing a hand on her shoulder before guiding her to turn and face him.