Chapter 316: Big Surprise

"Tristan?" Lysandra's voice cut through my confusion. She stepped closer, concern replacing the shock on her face. "Are you okay?"

I looked up at her, studying those green eyes. The pain behind them was real—I could see it even through my own confusion. But why did seeing her hurt awaken something protective in my chest?

Why did I throw myself between her and those men without thinking? Why does holding her feel like the most natural thing in the world?

"I'm fine."

She took another step forward. "You don't look fine. You look like you're in pain."

This woman—this stranger who claimed to be my ex-wife—was worried about me.

I reached for her hand before I could stop myself. Her fingers were cool from the mountain air, delicate against my palm. "Come with me."

She followed without protest as I led her away from the dying bonfire, toward a cluster of pine trees at the edge of the hotel grounds. The darkness provided privacy from curious eyes, though distant laughter from the terrace still reached us.

When we stopped beneath a particularly large tree, I turned to face her. The moonlight caught her features, making her skin look luminous against the dark branches.

"Let me see your arm."

"It's nothing," she said, but I could hear the pain she was trying to hide.

I pressed one hand against the tree trunk behind her, caging her between my body and the rough bark. With my free hand, I gently captured her injured forearm.

The burn was worse than I'd initially thought. Angry red flesh marked where the flames had caught her skin.

Without conscious thought, I brought her arm to my lips.

"What are you—" she started.

"Don't move." The command came out automatically, as if I'd said those words to her a thousand times before.

I extended my tongue and gently licked the burned flesh. She gasped at the contact, but I kept my head lowered, not meeting her eyes. The metallic taste of her blood mixed with something uniquely hers—a flavor that felt familiar despite my blank memories.

Her skin began healing under my saliva. The angry redness faded to pink, then to unmarked flesh.

This feels natural. Like I've done this before. Like I've tended to her wounds a hundred times.

When the burn was completely healed, I reluctantly released her arm. She stared at the unmarked skin with wonder, then looked up at me with those devastating eyes.

"Tristan, did you remember something? Why did you heal me?"

The question hit too close to home. I had no good answer for why I'd acted on pure instinct.

"It's nothing," I said, stepping back to put distance between us. "I don't like owing debts. You took that burn protecting me, so I fixed it. We're even now."

The explanation sounded hollow even to me, but it was safer than admitting the truth—that I had no idea why I'd done it, only that it had felt completely right.

Her face fell slightly. "Of course. Even."

Silence stretched between us as we walked back toward the hotel's main entrance. The lobby buzzed with late-evening activity, guests returning from dinner or heading out for nighttime adventures.

"I should get back to my room," she said quietly as we approached the elevators.

I pressed the call button, then stood beside her in uncomfortable silence. Every few seconds, my eyes drifted in her direction before I forced them away.

The elevator arrived with a soft chime. We stepped inside, and I automatically reached for the button panel.

"What floor?"

"Seven."

My hand froze halfway to the buttons. "Seven?"

"Yes, why?"

I pressed the button with more force than necessary. "I'm also on seven."

Her eyebrows rose. "Really? What room?"

"721."

The color drained from her face. "I'm in 723."

This can't be coincidence. But I just checked in today. How could she have known?

"When did you arrive?" I asked.

"A week ago." She studied my expression carefully. "You?"

"Today. This afternoon."

The elevator climbed toward our floor in tense silence. When the doors opened, we both hesitated, neither wanting to be the first to step out.

Finally, we emerged into the hallway together. Our rooms were directly across from each other, their doors facing like silent sentries. We stood there for a moment, uncertain what to say.

That's when we heard voices from behind her door—young voices, speaking in excited whispers.

"Uncle Kieran, is that Mommy's voice in the hallway?"

"She's been gone so long! Maybe she brought us chocolate!"

Before either of us could react, Lysandra's door burst open. A tall man with brown hair appeared first—Kieran, presumably—but he couldn't stop what happened next.

Two small figures shot past him like missiles, heading straight for us. Orion reached me first, his small arms wrapping around my right leg with surprising strength. Lyra hit my left leg a second later, her grip just as tight.

"Daddy!" Lyra's voice carried pure joy. "How did you find us? Did you remember your precious babies?"

Orion looked up at me with those storm-gray eyes so much like my own. "Dad! Did you secretly call Mommy to surprise us? This is the best surprise ever!"

The sudden weight of their small bodies against mine, the trust in their voices, the way they looked at me like I was their entire world—it hit me harder than any physical blow.

Kieran stepped into the hallway, his face showing clear surprise at seeing me. "Tristan? What are you doing here?"

"Vacation," I managed, still processing the children clinging to my legs.

He glanced between Lysandra and me, then at the identical room numbers. "Interesting coincidence."

Before I could respond, he turned his attention to the children. "Babies, your mom is back now. You don't need to worry anymore. Time for bed, okay? Lyss, you look pale. Come inside and rest."

As he spoke, Kieran's arm settled around Lysandra's shoulders with casual familiarity. The gesture was protective, intimate—and it made my jaw clench with unexpected fury.

"Her name is Lysandra," I said, my voice coming out sharper than intended.

Kieran raised an eyebrow at my tone but said nothing. His knowing look as he glanced between us only increased my irritation.

Something possessive and violent stirred in my chest. Without thinking, I scooped both children into my arms, one on each side.

"Uncle Kieran is right," I said, forcing my voice to remain gentle for their sake. "It's very late. You two need to sleep."

"No!" Lyra's cry pierced the quiet hallway. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she clutched my shirt. "I don't want Daddy to leave again! I'm scared you'll forget us again!"

Orion's voice cracked as he added, "Daddy, please don't go. We'll be really good, I promise. We won't make noise or bother you..."

The raw pain in their voices made something twist in my chest.

They're afraid of me leaving them. What kind of father was I that my own children fear abandonment?

Looking down at their tear-stained faces, I felt guilt crash over me like a physical weight. Whether I remembered them or not, these were my children. They needed stability, not more trauma.

"I'll stay until you fall asleep," I heard myself say. "Would that help?"

Both faces lit up with desperate hope.

"Really?" Lyra sniffled. "You'll read us a story?"

"And stay until we're asleep?" Orion added.

"Yes."