Chapter 844

I never imagined the boy who had shaped so much of my life would one day wear the robes of a Harmonist guide, dedicating himself to a life of reflection. Jace had cut himself off from the chaos of the world. Whether it was peace or simply his way of escaping love and attachment, he’d left everything—and everyone—behind.

After returning from Cloudscape Monastery, I fell ill. A relentless fever knocked me out for two days, leaving me trapped in a swirl of disjointed dreams—my parents, Matthew, Lindey, Jace, Wayne… all of them. In the dream, it felt like I was drowning. No matter how hard I tried to wake up, something kept pulling me deeper. At some point, I thought I heard voices. Jace’s. Hayden’s. Were they real? They spoke in muffled tones I couldn’t make out. But when Jace left—if he was ever really there—the dreams stopped.

When I finally opened my eyes, sunlight flooded the room, blindingly warm. I raised my hand to block it, but my fingers brushed against something. Looking over, I saw Hayden slumped by the bed, his hand holding mine. His dark hair glinted gold in the sunlight, and for a moment, he looked almost unreal.

“Hayden,” I whispered.

He didn’t stir. He used to wake at the smallest sound—he must’ve been completely drained to sleep like this. I didn’t call him again. I just watched him, the sunlight melting into him like he belonged in it. It didn’t take long for his eyelids to twitch. The second his eyes met mine, he was wide awake.

“Kiki, you’re awake?” he asked, his voice thick with relief.

“Yes,” I croaked.

“Do you want some water?” he asked, kissing the back of my hand briefly.

The dark circles under his eyes told me he hadn’t slept in days. I nodded. “I’m thirsty.”

Hayden poured me a glass, propping me up against him as he helped me take careful sips. But as I drank, a sudden thought struck me. Panic bubbled up. “The doctor didn’t give me the wrong medication, right? Did you tell them I’m pregnant?”

Hayden wiped my lips with his thumb. “I didn’t tell them.”

“What?” My stomach dropped. “Then what medicine did they give me? What if it hurt the baby?”

“It won’t,” he said, calm, though there was a faint twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

“No, that’s not good enough. I need to talk to the doctor,” I said, trying to swing my legs off the bed.

Just then, a voice came from the doorway. “Talk to the doctor about what?”

I turned to see Lena standing there in a white coat, her familiar playful smirk lighting up her face.

“Lena? You’re back?” I gasped.

“With you like this? Of course I’m back,” she said, walking over and pinching my cheeks like I was a kid.

I let her do it, the familiarity of her touch grounding me, making this moment feel real. “All your medications were prescribed by me,” Lena reassured. “Nothing I gave you would hurt the baby.”

I grabbed her hand, trying to find the words, but my throat closed up.

Lena smiled knowingly. “Save it. Just get better so we can actually talk.”

“I will,” I promised, nodding.

“Not up to you,” Lena said, switching to her doctor voice. “You’ll stay under observation for two more days. If the fever stays gone, you’re free to go.”

“Dr. Lane,” a nurse called from the doorway, interrupting us. “Dr. Warren wants to see you in the conference room.”

Dr. Warren—the hospital’s director.