Arthur looked between his children and nodded in agreement. His wife was right. "If Caleb and Lyra both think Kayla is a good match, then let's have her over."
"Perfect!" Lyra cheered, leaping out of her chair. "Caleb, go call Kayla right now and see if she's free this weekend."
Caleb nodded and immediately stepped out to the balcony to make the call.
Lyra crept toward the glass doors, shamelessly eavesdropping. She watched Caleb speaking softly into the receiver, his expression softening. He paused for a moment, listening, before replying.
"No, you don't need to buy any gifts... we have everything here. My family is very easygoing. Seriously, don't be nervous. Oh, by the way, my mom wants to know what you like to eat."
The call was brief, and the other side hung up in a hurried flutter. As Caleb lowered the phone, he could practically feel Kayla's overwhelming mixture of sheer panic and ecstatic relief radiating through the screen.
Caleb stared at his phone for a long moment, a sharp pang of guilt hitting him. He realized he hadn't been a very good boyfriend. He had completely failed to consider the immense pressure Kayla was under. No wonder Lyra kept stepping in to advocate for her.
Stepping back inside, he found Lyra beaming at him. "Did she say yes?"
"Yeah."
"Great!" Lyra buzzed with energy. "Should we deep-clean the house? You need to organize your bedroom."
"My room is spotless," Caleb argued.
In truth, Martha kept their rooms immaculate, so there was no real need to clean. But the sheer excitement of Kayla's impending visit sent both siblings scurrying off to their respective rooms to tidy up anyway.
Caspian wanted to point out that absolutely no one—not even him—was allowed in Rowan's private study, so there was no way to do it 'quietly.' But he just nodded. "Got it."
He climbed out of the car, and Lyra sped off into the night.
That night, Lyra dreamt of two beautiful, chubby-cheeked twins clinging to her legs, fighting for her attention as they giggled and called out to their aunt. Lyra laughed aloud in her sleep. Having a niece and nephew would be absolute paradise.
But the dream violently shifted. The bright room rotted into a sterile hospital ward. Jasmine stood over Lyra's emaciated, bedridden body, staring down with cold, victorious eyes.
"The Fairchild bloodline ends with you," Jasmine whispered. "You lost the twins."
Lyra shot up in bed, gasping for air, her heart hammering against her ribs.

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