Chapter 312: Trauma

Chapter 312: Trauma
Lysandra's POV

Three days later, Tristan was finally being discharged from the hospital.

I stood near the window, clutching Lyra's small hand while Orion pressed close to my other side.

Tristan sat on the edge of his hospital bed. He'd changed into the crisp white shirt Isolde had brought from home. His fingers worked methodically on the cuffs.

When his eyes swept across our small group, they lingered on me for less than a second before moving away.

"Son." Fenris stepped forward, car keys already in hand. "We're ready when you are."

Lyra broke free from my grip suddenly, her small feet pattering across the polished floor.

"Daddy!" Her voice rang with desperate hope. "We came to take you home!"

She launched herself toward him, arms outstretched for the embrace that had always awaited her before. Tristan's reaction was swift and devastating—he stepped backward, hands rising in an unconscious defensive gesture.

"I'm sorry." His voice remained courteous but firm. "I'm not comfortable with physical contact right now."

Lyra stumbled to a halt, her arms still reaching toward him. Confusion clouded her eyes as she processed the rejection.

Orion remained frozen beside me, tears gathering but not falling. My son straightened his shoulders with heartbreaking dignity.

"That's okay, Daddy." His voice only trembled slightly. "We can take things slow."

Tristan studied his son's face, and for a moment something flickered in his expression. Pain, maybe. Or confusion. But the coldness returned quickly, shuttering whatever brief emotion had surfaced.

"Thank you for understanding."

I pressed my hand to my mouth, fighting back the sob that threatened to escape.



"I need to speak with you privately."

Dr. Helena's words pulled me from my spiral of grief. She gestured toward a small consultation room down the hall.

I squeezed the children's hands. "Stay with Grandpa and Grandma for a moment."

Helena closed the door behind us, her expression grave.

"Sitting might be best." She indicated the chairs facing each other across a small table.

I remained standing. "Just tell me. How bad is it?"

Helena pulled out a thick file, her movements deliberate. "The brain scans show remarkable improvement in the injured areas. Physically, he's healing better than we hoped."

"But?"

"The selective memory loss appears to be deepening rather than improving." She opened the file, revealing brain scan images. "It's as if his mind is actively reinforcing the barriers around certain memories."

My legs gave out. I sank into the nearest chair, hands gripping the armrests.

"What does that mean for the children? For us?"

Helena leaned forward, her voice gentle but honest. "Any strong emotional stimulation could worsen his condition. The neural pathways are extremely fragile right now."

The room felt too warm suddenly. "You're telling me I can't see my children's father."

"I'm saying that forced exposure to the memories he's blocked could cause permanent damage." Helena closed the file with a soft thud. "Complete separation might be the kindest option—for everyone involved."

"How long?" The words scraped my throat raw.

"I can't give you a timeline. Every case is different. Some patients recover in weeks. Others..." She didn't finish the sentence.

Others never recover at all.



The hallway outside seemed endless as I walked back toward my family. Fenris paced near the elevator bank, his silver hair disheveled from repeated hand-raking.

"What did she say?" Isolde's voice carried barely contained worry.

I glanced toward Tristan, who stood apart from our group, checking his phone with detached efficiency. Even now, he radiated that subtle authority that marked him as Alpha. But the warmth—the spark that had always lit his eyes when he looked at the children—was simply gone.

"Distance is best." My voice sounded hollow even to myself. "For now."

Fenris stopped pacing abruptly. "How long is 'for now'?"

"Nobody knows."

Isolde's hand found mine, her palm warm but trembling. "This isn't permanent. He'll remember. Love that strong doesn't just disappear."

I wanted to believe her. But watching Tristan maintain careful space between himself and his own children, I wondered if love was enough to bridge the chasm in his damaged mind.

Two weeks later, I lay in my childhood bedroom at Ravencroft Manor, staring at the ceiling as moonlight painted silver patterns across the walls.

Orion and Lyra had barely spoken since leaving the hospital. They moved through each day like small ghosts, eating when prompted, responding when asked direct questions, but the spark that had always defined them was dimming.

Astrid whimpered in my mind, a constant ache that mirrored the emptiness in my chest. Our mate is suffering. I can feel his pain even from here.

He doesn't want us, I reminded her silently. Our presence makes it worse.

But the bond—

The bond means nothing if his mind rejects it.

A soft knock interrupted my internal argument. "Come in."

Alaric appeared in the doorway, still wearing his work clothes despite the late hour. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his usually perfect hair was mussed.

"You should be sleeping." He settled into the chair beside my bed, exhaustion evident in every line of his body.

"So should you." I sat up, pulling my knees to my chest. "How are you?"

"Exhausted." He rubbed his forehead with both hands. "Managing two territories is more challenging than I anticipated. But that's not why I'm here."

I studied my brother's face, noting the way his jaw tightened with unspoken concern.

"The children are struggling," he continued. "Today Lyra asked Kieran if Daddy would love her again if she became a better little girl."

"What did Kieran tell her?"

"That she's already perfect, and this isn't her fault." Alaric leaned forward, his eyes intense. "But Lysandra, they need more than reassurances. They need healing."

From his jacket pocket, he produced a glossy brochure. Alpine views and pristine buildings filled the pages.

"Switzerland has a private thermal resort that specializes in psychological therapy." He handed me the brochure. "They have programs specifically designed for children dealing with trauma."