As time went by, I slowly learnt that Lyra's headspace was like a tangled yarn of wool. The more I would try to solve the knots, the more complicated the mess would get. And if I ended up losing my patience and tried to untangle these thoughts that ate her up in haste, the threads would break. And so would Lyra.

Unfixable and broken, probably forever. That risk was not one I was willing to take.

Days flew by and with each passing day, I found myself seeing a newer side of Lyra — like the moon I was so afraid of. A new phase each day, a new secret and form each day. At times, I was forced to question who Lyra really was — which side was her true face, after all.

In spite of the overwhelming turn of events, I was grateful that Lyra chose to trust me. She showed me parts of herself that she wished to keep hidden from the world, even from me before. But things were already changing and I couldn't help but feel my optimism grow. Because she was no longer going to suffer in silence. I was going to be there to accompany her in this journey all along. Till the very end.

Just like an iceberg, Lyra's soul had depths that were impossible to discover at once. A facade of happiness and bravery above the ocean, no one knew what hid underneath the surface. No one could see how lonely, how scared she was. Of the world, of strangers, of her own loved ones. She was afraid to trust, horrified of opening up to someone who could choose to walk away instead of helping her sort out the mess in her head.

Well, that was exactly what I was going through, trying to keep a huge secret to myself. A part of me was afraid that if I would tell someone about the past, about how I watched Lyra die and come back to life, things would take a turn for the worse. I understood her pain — of not being able to share your darkest secrets with anyone, of meeting your worst fears in nightmares, of having no option but to struggle in silence.

Trying to get into her head, I slowly tried to pull out even the slightest existing bit of appreciation she had for suicide. Lyra had been an escapist all her life — losing herself in books and movies, choosing to get attached to fictional characters instead of people she met in real life. But this time, her escape could turn into something deadly. And now that I knew, I wasn't going to let that happen.

Lyra was never a fan of positive speeches and I wasn't even good at them either. Whenever she used to cry before, I would usually do something to make her laugh so that we could get past the awkwardness. But we would never talk about the painful events that made her sick. She liked the way I respected her privacy and I liked the way she didn't feel like she had to hide things from me anymore.

Somehow, I had started believing that we were a perfect fit. Just like the spaces between our fingers, we were like the missing pieces of a puzzle that completed the empty space in our respective lives. We were the hope each of us needed to hold on to the strings of life. Even when things got rough, when the battles got tougher. We were ready to fight through it all with our hands locked together. It was her and me against the world.

Because she was my love and I was soon becoming hers.

Just like that, everything was perfect until one day, she decided to confront me and talk about things that she didn't know I had read in the notebook. As much as I appreciated her sharing her deepest, darkest secrets with me, it was something I didn't want to hear since it hit a delicate nerve.

It reminded me of my own darkness, my own blindfold and I didn't know how to react to her confessions when I knew them already. Because no matter how hard I tried to forget, her words would randomly show up again in my mind whenever I had a moment to myself.

How desperately she was trying to run away, how badly she was trying to hold on and how peaceful she thought it was to put an end to all of this. So, when she turned the words on the crumpled page into spoken sentences, I didn't know how to hold myself together anymore and reacted a bit too harshly, picturing her dead all over again. As if she was going to leave me crying near her grave this time too. The mere thought made me lose all my patience and calm.

So we fought and ended up sitting on the beach in anger, hesitantly, with our egos letting the sound of our breaths be the only source of our auditory communication. All we could hear were the waves at a certain distance. Crashing against each other yet always returning to the shore in the end. I couldn't help but wonder if our relationship was somewhat like the waves.

Because no matter where we would go, no matter how stubborn we would be; we knew that someday or the other, we'd choose to return to the shore that eagerly awaited our arrival. Someday, we all have to come together, whether or not willingly. As if we were bound by the laws of space and time. As if we were destined to come together no matter how apart death had pulled us.

In that moment, sitting next to her and glaring at the waves when a fire burnt through my veins, Lyra angrily shoved her elbow into my stomach, jerked my hand in her direction and rested her head on my shoulder. That's when I realised no one is self reliant. We all need someone to lean on. And choosing to let my own fears and inhibitions flow with the wind, I rested my head on hers; our arms locked together as if none of us wanted to ever let go.

But that's the thing about fate. Just like the lines on a graph paper, either our lives are meant to coincide till infinity or intersect at a particular point of time, and then, come the bittersweet goodbyes when we part ways again. I'm not so sure if the rules of algebra apply to our alternate version of events anymore but come to think of it, what are the chances Lyra and I would have ever crossed paths in the first place?

With so many inhaling living beings in the world, it is next to impossible to count the permutations of us having an effect on someone's life and someone affecting ours in return. But like the blue moon, some lines are never meant to intersect. No matter how hard those lines try to come close, they might even succeed in leaving a negligible distance between them, but if they're not meant to be, they won't coincide despite all the efforts they make.

Like the stubborn parallel lines that never meet in spite of being so similar, we can never come close to some people no matter how hard we try. Well, this is how you could sum up Lyra's relationship with her adoptive parents. Close yet far. Complete yet incomplete. Family yet strangers. In spite of all the years they had shared together.

"Okay, so, will you tell me now?" I raised a brow at her and she scooted away from me, remembering she was supposed to be angry, still. Knitting her eyebrows together, she clearly expected an apology from me. I knew she wanted one but she wouldn't ask for it, being the hotheaded prick she was. "No?" I asked, impatiently.

I half-expected that she was going to let her anger blast out at me anytime now. She would yell at me, curse me and hit me till I apologised. But what she did was nothing like I imagined. As we were sitting apart after she remembered our fight again, she hadn't spoken a single word since I brought up the topic she was denying to admit and I could feel a storm brew in the silence.

Catching me by surprise, she ducked closer again and wrapped her arms around my neck, locking me in one of those soft but firm hugs. She rested her head on my chest and I could feel the tickles on my skin when her shallow breaths hit my bare chest, thanks to the two buttons of my shirt that I'd left open. I froze, not knowing how to react to this sudden proximity. Her sweet scent infiltrated my nostrils until I was too numb to think anymore.

In a matter of time, hot tears started soaking my shirt and I knew Lyra was trying really hard not to cry, but she lost. Though, that was still better than losing her fight against life and death. "D?" She managed to voice out, her voice still hoarse and broken. That didn't matter to me or her anymore. There were so many times she'd cried in front of me now and both of us were completely comfortable with the way we always ended up, with her crying in my arms, seeking for reassurance in my smallest gestures.

"Hmm." I stroked her hair that had lost its shine. They looked brittle now. She hardly paid any attention to herself anymore, completely occupied with finding jobs or lost in the scenarios in her head. She buried her face harder into my chest and I wrapped my arms around her waist, tightly, enveloping her closer so she could never leave me. Ever again.

"Sweetheart." I pecked her forehead and she shook her head in a nod, implying me to continue speaking. "It's about your mom, isn't it?"

She instantly pulled apart and looked me in the eye, unable to utter a single word. Though she didn't, her eyes told me every possible emotion that she had locked somewhere deep inside and lost the key to unlock.

There are times when silence communicates more effectively than words and your eyes say every possible thing your vocal cords would have — if you had the courage to pour out your emotions into words that slip out of your lips when the situation calls for it. She gave me one of those looks and I knew what I had to do.

I leaned in and kissed her cheek — letting my lips stay there a bit longer than they were supposed to — and picked her up in my arms, carrying her towards the shore, bridal style. I watched as she let out a loud gasp at my sudden action and her eyes widened when she tightened her grip around my neck, afraid of falling, but I only laughed in response. How was she so freaking adorable?

This woman was really going to be the death of me someday, I swear.

Once we were closer to the shore, I set her back on her feet and asked her to remove her footwear. Her forehead creased in response when she gave me a confused look but obeyed, after giving it a second thought. I untied my laces and kept my shoes and socks aside to feel the wet sand touch the heel of my foot.

We might still have been a little mad at each other but I went ahead and locked my fingers with hers, smiling to myself as I pulled her towards the waves. She let out a small scream and flinched when the cold water washed her feet but once the waves went away, she found herself at ease again. Just like that, we kept chasing and avoiding the waves for a while.

Minutes later, my smile rubbed off on her face as well, giving her one of her own. A huge grin tugged on her lips, I could tell just by the loko on her face that she was enjoying this. I didn't think she had ever been to the beach before. Or at least nowhere near the waves. "This is so comforting!" She exclaimed, like she had just discovered a big secret of the universe.

"Told you." We took a few more steps away from the shore and now, the water was touching her knees. I always found peace at the beach, but with Lyra, it was different. I felt full, more like satisfaction of sorts when she found her happiness and pleasure in what I did. It wasn't just validating but it reminded me that deep down, we were more similar than we appeared.

Whenever a huge wave would come our way, Lyra would frighteningly grip my elbow tightly and let loose when the wave would pass by. Like she trusted me enough this time. Like she wouldn't hesitate to let me know she needed me if she ever found herself spiralling again. I was so happy that I was almost about to cry.

"You know?" I muttered, pointing to the wave. "When life gets rough, just like these waves — I will still be here for you. You can hold on to me anytime. I'll not leave you alone."

"That, I know." She squeezed my palm and smiled at the sun and like those rare moments when you could see a falling star, I saw the sparkle return in her eyes.

After a while she added. "You know, D, you're-"

"Shh. Just observe and enjoy the plays of nature." I winked at her. She was stressing herself too much, overthinking too much about the smallest things but all she needed was to live; a little more. Scratch that, a lot more.

While we were enjoying the numb feeling on our skin as the waves grazed our feet, we lost track of time and it was evening already. To our surprise, none of us cared about the time or where we were, for that matter. Because we were happy in that little moment and that was all we needed to make us acknowledge why life is worth living.

Lyra broke me from my trance and eagerly pointed out towards the view before us. The sun was setting already and we were still sitting on the sand, trying to rub away the wrinkly skin due to our prolonged stay in water. I stole a glance at her and she was completely in awe at the beauty of nature, entranced by its breath-taking reflection in the water. It was difficult to pull my eyes away from her but when my gaze fell on the crimson sky, my lips curled up in a genuine and grateful smile. My heart screamed out to the setting sun that appeared so close yet was so far but had somehow managed to listen to my wish and had given me a second chance.

Now, I could say that among the 7 billion people in the world, Lyra and I had somehow managed to cheat all rules of life and mathematics. For we had closed the distance that was supposed to exist between two parallel lines; only to coincide and create an infinity for ourselves.

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Random Question - What is your guilty pleasure?

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Author's Note - How're you all? Just hoping you all know Headspace is Book 1 of a trilogy. Just saying xD

What do you think about this chapter? I hope I got all the math definitions right, haha xD

Now that we have crossed the 60 mark in the story, why did you think did Lyra jump? Any theories, any guesses? Feel free to comment them here; I'm always eager to listen to them *_*

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P.S. If you share anything on social media about this story, please don't forget to use the hashtag #HeadspaceWattpad and tag me there so I can see it *_*

Love you loads. See you soon with a new chapter,