New Year's Eve came with a sharp bite in the air, but inside Lyra's apartment, it was nothing but warm.
She stood in front of the mirror, fixing her scarf, trying to look put-together. For some reason, her chest buzzed with a weird kind of nerves.
Robin would be here any second.
Her phone buzzed. A text lit up the screen: I'm outside. Don't spend your whole life getting ready—it's not a royal ball.
Lyra let out a half-laugh, grabbed her coat, and headed down.
Robin was already waiting by his car, hands in his pockets, wrapped in a cozy-looking black coat. The moment he saw her, one brow lifted.
"That took forever. You getting ready for a Vogue cover shoot or what?"
She snorted, pulling her scarf a little tighter. "I wasn't sure what to bring your parents, so…"She dug into her bag and pulled out a small box of cookies from her favorite bakery. "I figured this could pass as a peace offering."
He glanced at it, then smiled—a rare, softer kind of smile. But of course, that didn't last long.
"Look at you, all serious. You act like you're meeting your future in-laws."
Lyra nearly choked. "What?"
Robin just laughed, sliding his hands back into his coat pockets. "Don't panic. No one's grilling you. Probably."
She shot him a look, cheeks warming. "Okay, I'm taking the cookies back."
Robin chuckled but quickly stepped in to open the car door for her.
"Come on," he said. "Let's make it there before the new year shows up without us."
She grumbled, but got in anyway.
Outside, the night was still cold.But somewhere inside, the warmth had already started to settle in.
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Robin pulled up casually in front of a sleek, multi-level house—elegant but not flashy. The neighborhood was quiet, rows of well-kept homes glowing under warm porch lights in the cold night air.
Lyra twisted the end of her scarf between her fingers. "I suddenly feel like an intruder," she whispered.
Robin, dressed in a black knit sweater under a long dark coat, glanced over with a half-smile. "Why are you so nervous? It's dinner, not a job interview."
She sighed softly. "Still, I'm a guest in a house full of strangers."
He let out a quiet laugh, and with a teasing tone added, "You sound like someone meeting her future in-laws for the first time."
She shot him a sharp look, her cheeks warming—not that she could tell if it was the cold or his words. "Can you not?"
Robin just chuckled and opened the door.
The moment they stepped inside, the scent of warm food wrapped around them, laced with the faint, cozy smell of wood. The house felt classic but welcoming. In the dining room, a woman—Robin's mom—was arranging the table when she heard the door. She turned with a bright, welcoming smile.
"There you are!" she said warmly, her eyes landing on Lyra.
The girl stood with quiet poise—cream sweater, simple black pants, a light brown scarf wrapped around her neck, and a thin wool coat still on. The look was understated but warm and thoughtful.
"You must be Lyra," the woman said with a soft smile. "Robin talks about you all the time."
Robin sighed under his breath. "Mom…"
Lyra offered a small, polite smile, still a little stiff. "Thank you for having me…"
Robin's mom laughed lightly. "Oh, don't be so formal. Make yourself at home—we're happy you're spending New Year's with us."
It wasn't at all what Lyra had pictured. The house, though stylish, didn't feel stiff or intimidating. The warmth from this family had a way of softening the edges.
Robin hung up his coat by the door, then glanced at Lyra still standing beside him."You can take yours off too, you know. You look like you're ready to flee."
Lyra gave a small nod, unbuttoning her coat and folding it over her arm. She turned toward Robin's mom, suddenly self-conscious about showing up empty-handed."I didn't know what to bring… so I brought this."
She hesitated, then pulled a small box from her bag—premium tea and some cookies from her favorite shop. Nothing fancy, but something thoughtful.
Robin's mom lit up.
"Oh, this is lovely. You didn't have to, but I really appreciate it." She took the box with genuine warmth, glancing toward the kitchen. "This'll be perfect after dinner. Thank you, Lyra."
Relief washed over her. Meanwhile, Robin leaned casually against the wall and whispered, "See? Told you she'd like you. Phase one: complete."
Lyra shot him a warning look, though the corner of her mouth twitched. "Shut up, Robin."
Before he could reply, footsteps echoed from another part of the house. A man in his fifties stepped out from a study, wearing a relaxed shirt and a light sweater, a mug of coffee in hand. His eyes landed on them, and he gave a quiet nod.
"You made it," he said, voice calm with a quiet authority.
Robin grinned. "Dad, this is Lyra."
The man studied her for a beat, then offered a faint smile. "Nice to meet you, Lyra. Robin doesn't bring people home often."
She wasn't sure if that was a compliment or a warning—but she smiled politely anyway. "Nice to meet you too, sir."
"No need for the 'sir,'" he said, waving it off. "Come on, have a seat. Dinner's almost ready."
Robin's mom returned to prepping the table while Robin gestured toward the living room. "C'mon, have a seat. I'll grab us something to drink."
Lyra nodded and made her way to the couch. It was impossibly comfortable. Her eyes wandered—photos, books, cozy little details everywhere. For a well-off family, the house didn't scream wealth. It felt lived-in, filled with memories.
Robin returned with two mugs of warm tea, handing her one before sitting beside her.
"So?" he said, nudging her gently. "Not so scary after all, right?"
Lyra blew on the tea, then murmured, "Yeah… I think I'll survive the night."
Robin grinned. "You're not here to survive, Lyra. You're here to have a good time. I promise—tonight'll be great."
And for some reason, sitting there in that warm room surrounded by laughter and the smell of dinner, Lyra found herself starting to believe him.
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In the dining room—elegant yet homey—the table was already set. The spread wasn't extravagant, but it was clear that everything had been made with care. There was warm soup, roast meat with rich gravy, a few simple sides, and a bottle of wine for the adults.
Robin pulled out a chair for Lyra before taking the seat beside her. His parents sat across from them. Lyra felt a flicker of awkwardness at first, but the atmosphere at the table turned out to be far more relaxed than she expected.
Robin's mom set down her spoon with quiet grace, then turned to Lyra with a gentle smile."So, Lyra," she began kindly. "I've been wondering—how did the two of you get close? Robin said you're not even in the same major or year."
Lyra straightened just a little before replying."We first met while organizing a campus festival. We worked in related divisions, so we had to coordinate a lot. Then, by coincidence, we both got accepted into the student council after that—apparently our work left a good impression."
Robin's dad, who had been quietly enjoying his meal, looked up at the mention of that."Student council, huh?" He cast a sidelong glance at Robin before returning his gaze to Lyra."And how would you rate this one's performance there?"
Robin let out a long sigh, clearly seeing this coming."Dad…"
Lyra held back a quiet laugh before answering with a touch of diplomacy."He's pretty competent. He picks things up quickly and takes responsibility seriously."
Robin's dad grinned, clearly amused."Only pretty competent?"
Lyra glanced at Robin, who had now dropped his head with a faint groan, then added playfully,"He can be a little stubborn, too. But sometimes that actually works in his favor."
Robin's mom chuckled."That's been his nature since he was little. Once he sets his mind to something, it's nearly impossible to change it."
"Exactly," his dad agreed, then gave Lyra a meaningful look."So if he decides someone's worth his time, he tends to mean it."
Lyra gave a small, tight smile, her cheeks warming again—though whether from the cozy room or the direction this conversation was heading, she wasn't sure.
Dinner carried on with light conversation. Robin's mom asked about Lyra's hometown, her favorite foods, and a few little stories about her family. Nothing intrusive—just enough to make her feel heard. Strangely, it felt more like chatting with someone's mom than surviving a parent interrogation.
When the meal finally came to an end, Robin's mom leaned back with a contented smile."I'm so glad I finally got to meet one of Robin's close friends."
His dad nodded in agreement."He usually doesn't talk much about people from school. You must be someone pretty special."
Robin let out a dramatic sigh."Please don't turn this into some matchmaking ritual."
His father chuckled."Why not? It's nice to see someone who can balance out that hard head of yours."
Lyra dipped her head slightly, hiding the soft smile that had snuck onto her lips.
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After dinner, Lyra wandered a bit through Robin's living room. The house carried a quiet warmth—decorated with intention, not excess. A tall bookshelf lined the wall, alongside a few carefully placed ornaments and framed photographs.
Her eyes scanned the room until one picture on a small side table caught her attention. She stepped closer.
In the photo was a much younger Robin—probably middle school age—with slightly longer hair that almost covered his eyes. His cheeks were rounder back then, and his expression was awkward, like he wasn't thrilled to be in front of the camera.
Lyra smiled to herself."Cute," she murmured.
"Robin?" she called out, turning as he entered the room carrying two mugs of tea.
He followed her gaze—and froze."Oh no." He hurried over, setting the cups down quickly.
But before he could grab the photo and hide it, his mom chuckled from the couch.
"Oh, that one," she said fondly. "Robin in middle school. He hated having his picture taken, so you won't find many childhood photos around here."
Lyra looked at the picture again, her smile widening."You look sweet," she said genuinely.
Robin let out a low groan, his face flushing slightly."I look like a weird little bookworm."
His mom laughed softly, leaning back with a look of nostalgia."He was such a different kid back then. A little awkward. Very obedient. And—how do I put it—too well-behaved for his own good."
Lyra turned toward her, curiosity lighting up her face."Oh? What do you mean?"
"He was always neat, always did what he was told, never caused trouble. The kind of kid teachers love—but classmates found a bit too boring."
Robin shot his mom a half-begging look."Mom…"
But she just giggled and kept going."In elementary school, he hit a growth spurt earlier than the others, and instead of feeling confident about it, he just withdrew even more. He didn't know how to fit in."
Lyra glanced over at Robin, who was now scratching the back of his neck, looking everywhere but at her."Mom, that's enough…" he muttered flatly, though not with any real bite.
"I just want you to know, Lyra," his mom said gently. "He used to get teased a lot—for being too proper, too serious. Some kids even called him 'Young Master' just to mock him."
Lyra blinked, then turned to Robin."Seriously?"
He let out a long sigh, clearly wanting this conversation to die."Yeah, well. I wasn't exactly the loud, wild kid. So people thought I was… dull."
She studied him for a moment, then smiled."So, basically… you were the good kid from the start."
Robin gave her a look—but the faint pink at the tips of his ears gave him away."If that's how you wanna put it."
Lyra laughed softly."I think it's adorable."
Robin blinked."What?"
"I mean it," she said with a small grin. "I can totally picture a younger version of you—neat, quiet, rule-follower. It's kinda endearing."
Robin turned away dramatically, exhaling."I regret bringing you here."
His mom chuckled from the couch, clearly enjoying her son's discomfort a little too much.
Lyra, still smiling, looked at him with something softer in her eyes. Then, without hesitation, she said, "But honestly? I think it's a good thing. You stayed true to who you were, even when others thought you were boring. That's better than pretending to be someone you're not."
Robin stared at her, caught off guard. He'd expected more teasing, maybe another playful jab. What he didn't expect was that kind of quiet understanding.
He didn't answer right away. Just kept looking at her—something in his expression softening.
And for the first time in a while, something inside him loosened. A weight he hadn't even realized he was carrying… felt just a little lighter.
He turned away, sipping his tea to hide the small smile tugging at his lips."You really do say the weirdest things," he muttered.
Lyra laughed under her breath."I'm just being honest."
And somehow, in that cozy, quiet living room, Robin felt like maybe… his past wasn't as heavy as it used to be.
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Robin took a sip of his drink, eyes drifting toward the window."Almost midnight."
Lyra followed his gaze. Outside, snow was falling in soft, silent layers, blanketing the world in white. Streetlights glowed gently through the flurries, casting a dreamlike shimmer over everything.
Then came the first firework—a golden bloom that lit up the sky.
Lyra smiled faintly, her voice barely above a whisper."This year… wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be."
Robin turned to her and let out a quiet laugh."Here's to a better one, then."
He raised his mug slightly, and Lyra mirrored him. Their cups clinked softly—almost too quiet to hear, but enough to mark the moment between them.
Outside, the sky bloomed with color. Reds, blues, and purples burst against the night, reflecting in the window and casting shifting patterns across their silhouettes as they sat close in the warm quiet of the room.
Robin took another sip, then asked,"Do you usually make New Year's resolutions?"
Lyra tilted her head, watching the firework colors ripple across the surface of her hot chocolate."Not really. I always feel like resolutions are just long lists people forget by February."
Robin smirked."So you're more of a go-with-the-flow type?"
She shrugged."Maybe. But this year, I want to try something different."
He raised an eyebrow."Like what?"
She paused, then turned her gaze back to the window."I want to be more honest with myself," she said softly. "Stop pretending I'm okay when I'm not. Stop molding myself to fit what other people want—just because I'm scared of being left behind."
Robin didn't respond right away. He let her words settle between them, letting the silence carry them like breath in the cold. His eyes stayed on the sky, watching the light dance across the darkness."That's a good resolution," he said eventually.
He knew—probably more than anyone else—just how much she'd gone through this year. And maybe, in some quiet, unspoken way, he'd gone through it with her too.
Lyra felt the same. So much had happened, especially in the final stretch of the year. The start of the semester felt like a lifetime ago now. She didn't even want to recall how physically drained she'd been, how emotionally tangled.
But now, all of it felt like something she could finally leave behind—as if the last page of a long, exhausting chapter had just turned.
She smiled to herself."What about you?"
Robin exhaled, his gaze fixed ahead. His fingers fidgeted slightly against the ceramic cup."Maybe… I want to stop being afraid."
Lyra turned toward him, quiet, waiting.
He set his mug down, then laced his fingers together, resting them on the table."I'm always worried about how people see me. Like… if I let them see the weaker parts, they'll just walk away."He smiled—small, sincere, with no trace of sarcasm."But I'm starting to think… not everyone's like that."
Their eyes met.
And Lyra felt something stir inside her chest—something warm, and real. Not just from what he'd said, but from the courage it took to say it.
Outside, the final firework exploded across the sky, its glow lingering just a second longer before fading into the dark.
Robin took a breath, then glanced her way again, that quiet smile still on his lips."So… you think this year's gonna be better?"
Lyra held his gaze, and this time, her smile came a little easier."I hope so."
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*** TO BE CONTINUE ***