AZALEA'S POV
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"Lyra, mommy has to go do a few things, do you want to join me?" I brush her hair back into a ponytail. "Why?" The question of the year. Why this, and why that. "I have to talk to our people." I explain as swiftly as I can. "Why?" Her head tilts, her ponytail completely going scew. "Lyra," I sigh, the tension from the morning still pulsing through my veins. My chest rises as I inhale a breath as steady as can be. My lips press into a thin line before I force the edges up into a smile. "Straighten your head please." I remain calm.
Yelling won't solve a thing.
"Sorry," Lyra murmurs, her shoulders falling as she sighs. "Well, do you want to join me?", "Yes." She smiles, and suddenly it feels like she only wants to go because she's guilty about her hair that I'm redoing.
