The days after her confrontation with Lyra settled into a strange, hollow rhythm for Selene. The initial shock and anger had faded, leaving behind a dull ache and a frustrating sense of stagnation. They were right back where they started; two people orbiting the same space, separated by an invisible, immovable wall of Lyra's making. The profound secret of Lyra's nature, once a terrifying revelation, now just felt like another locked door.
It was in this void that Eliza's presence became a constant. Where Lyra was silence and withdrawal, Eliza was noise and motion. Texts popped up throughout the day, inviting her for impromptu coffee breaks, lunch, after work drinks. Selene, feeling unmoored and lonely, found herself saying yes every time. It was easier to be swept up in Eliza's vibrant, uncomplicated energy than to sit in the quiet and ache for the confusing, immortal librarian.
At first, it was a perfect distraction. Eliza was funny, engaging, and made no demands beyond Selene's company. They explored new cafes, browsed bookstores, and Eliza always had a story that made Selene laugh until her sides hurt. For a few hours at a time, Selene could almost forget the profound confusion Lyra had left in her wake.
But the distraction came with a price. Eliza's comments about Lyra, once playful teasing, began to take on a sharper, more possessive edge.
"Still pining over the ghost in the stacks?" Eliza would ask, her tone light but her eyes watchful, whenever Selene's gaze grew distant.
"She is just so much work," Eliza declared one afternoon, sipping her latte. "All those mysterious glances and then she just clams up. You are way too good for that, Selene. You deserve someone who is actually present. Someone fun. Someone who knows how to communicate." The irony of Eliza, of all people, giving communication advice was not lost on Selene.
Selene would offer a weak smile, a part of her wanting to defend Lyra, to explain that it was not just drama, that it was something real and terrifying and profound. But another part, the hurt and rejected part, nodded in agreement. It was exhausting. Eliza was easy. Eliza was here.
Yet, no matter how much fun she had, Selene could not shake the feeling of Lyra's absence. It was a physical pull, a constant hum of awareness. She found her eyes automatically scanning the library for a glimpse of dark hair, her heart giving a little lurch whenever she heard a certain cadence of footsteps. She was with Eliza, but her senses were always tuned to Lyra.
The contradiction came to a head one afternoon. Selene was leaving a cafe with Eliza, laughing at something she had said, when a movement across the street caught her eye.
It was Lyra.
She was standing by the library's large window, not even pretending to look at the books on display. She was watching them. Her expression was unreadable from this distance, but her posture was rigid, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She was not hiding her observation; she was simply bearing witness to Selene moving on with someone else.
Selene's laughter died in her throat. Her steps faltered.
"What is wrong?" Eliza asked, following her gaze. Her smile tightened into something predatory when she saw Lyra. "Oh. Her. Do not tell me you are still letting her get to you. She is just jealous."
Selene quickly looked away, a hot flush of guilt and confusion spreading through her. "No. It is nothing. Let us go."
But the image was burned into her mind. The loneliness in Lyra's stance, even from afar, was unmistakable.
Later, trying to lighten the mood, Selene decided to bring up the one piece of gossip she had. Lyra had mentioned it offhandedly days ago, a cryptic text about her friend Ariana having a "chaotic" night.
"Hey," Selene said, nudging Eliza playfully as they walked. "I heard you had quite the adventure with Lyra's friend, Ariana. After the beach party?"
Eliza's steps stuttered. The confident, flirtatious mask she always wore slipped for a fraction of a second, replaced by sheer, unadulterated panic. Her cheeks flushed a deep, brilliant red. "What? Who told you that?"
Selene grinned, enjoying the rare sight of a flustered Eliza. "A Little birdie. Something about a hotel room, a lot of vomit, and you trying to kiss her, thinking she was me?" She kept her tone light and teasing, but she watched Eliza closely.
Eliza looked like she wanted the sidewalk to swallow her whole. She sputtered, trying to find words. "That; that is a gross exaggeration! I was... very drunk. It was a misunderstanding. A complete disaster."
But the reaction was all the confirmation Selene needed. The embarrassment was too real, too deep. It was not the reaction of someone who had just had a messy night with a stranger. It was the reaction of someone whose deepest, most humiliating secret had been exposed.
And that secret was that Eliza had feelings for her.
The pieces clicked into place with startling clarity. The constant invitations, the pointed comments about Lyra, the need to always be near her. It was not just friendly camaraderie. Eliza was vying for her attention. She had, in her drunken state, confessed it to a complete stranger.
Selene's teasing smile softened. "Hey, it is okay," she said, her voice gentler. "We have all had nights we would rather forget."
But the dynamic had shifted irrevocably. The air between them was now charged with a new awareness. Selene knew. And Eliza knew that she knew. The easy, distracting friendship now had an ulterior motive hanging over it, and it made every laugh, every casual touch, feel loaded with intention.
That evening, her phone buzzed. Lyra's name flashed on the screen. Selene's heart leaped into her throat. She answered, her voice tentative.
"Hey."
There was a pause on the other end, filled with static and unsaid words. "Hey," Lyra finally replied, her voice soft. "I just wanted to... check in. See how you are doing."
It was an olive branch. A tiny, fragile one. This was her chance to ask the hard questions, to demand the communication she had begged for. But now, the knowledge of Eliza's feelings and the memory of Lyra's distant figure in the window twisted together.
Instead of honesty, she offered a deflection, using Eliza as a shield, just as she had used her as a distraction.
"Everything is fine," Selene said, her tone deliberately light, distant. "I have just been hanging out with Eliza lately. You know, keeping busy."
The silence that followed was heavier than any wall. Selene could practically feel Lyra retreating back into her shell on the other end of the line. She had effectively told Lyra she was choosing the easier, simpler path.
"I see," Lyra said, her voice now carefully neutral, utterly closed off. "Well, if you ever want to talk, you know where to find me."
"Yeah," Selene said, the word feeling like ash in her mouth. "Thanks."
She ended the call and dropped the phone as if it had burned her. The silence of her apartment roared in her ears. The irony was bitter. She was now caught in a triangle of her own making. The immortal woman who terrified her with her truth but captivated her soul, and the vibrant, earthly woman who offered a simple, uncomplicated affection.
But as she sat there in the growing dark, Selene knew deep down that she was not truly interested in Eliza. Not in the way that mattered. Eliza was a balm, a distraction from the seismic shift Lyra represented. Being with Eliza felt like staying in the shallow end of the pool, safe and familiar, while Lyra was the deep, dark, mysterious ocean, full of terrifying wonders and ancient secrets. Selene's heart, her very soul, was drawn to the depths, not the shore.
She had to figure out where she stood with Lyra. She had to understand what that connection meant, not just for her heart, but for her future. It was a terrifying prospect, to choose a path that promised confusion and danger over one that offered simple comfort. But the pull was undeniable. Her future, whatever it held, was inextricably tied to the enigmatic librarian and the ancient truth she guarded. The easy distraction was over; it was time to face the complicated reality.