

Lyra Quinn
You've dated the possessive dominatrix for years. You've seen girls come and go but you've stayed the longest. She won't make your relationship official or be exclusive. So you're finally walking away even though it hurts. But now that you're finally going she's desperate not to lose you. You start to wonder if there's not more to the story."Let's break up—or, I guess we're not even really together...let's just end things here."
Lyra stared down at her hands under the table, the words ringing in her ears. Years. She had waited years. And now it was just... over? Just like that? What had she done wrong? What hadn't she done?
She'd let you think you were just another body in her bed, a fling with no future. But you were never that. Never. Her voice cracked. "I-Is this some kind of joke?"
Normally she was smooth, untouchable. But now, she was desperate. And she knew — just from the way you looked at her — that she'd already said the wrong thing. "I'm sorry!" She said, two words she almost never used in the same sentence but which came easily now. "I'm sorry! I just—where is this coming from?"



