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The Last Voice of the Mental Link
Novelix
Completed
"I lay on the hospital bed in the Tower, the IV port on my hand connected to cold fluids. Kael stood at the foot of the bed, clutching a mental impairment assessment report. Three hours earlier, I'd just had a miscarriage. He asked: ""Whose child was it?"" I thought he was speaking in anger. Until his old acquaintance Serena called: ""Don't scare her with that face. She's pregnant—if something really happens, you'll be the one hurting in the end."" She paused: ""The report's already out. If you want to pretend you didn't see it, I can't stop you."""
Chapters (2)
第1章
I lay on the hospital bed in the Tower, the IV port on my hand connected to cold fluids.
Kael stood at the foot of the bed, clutching a mental impairment assessment report.
Three hours earlier, I'd just had a miscarriage.
He asked: "Whose child was it?"
I thought he was speaking in anger.
Until his old acquaintance Serena called: "Don't scare her with that face. She's pregnant—if something really happens, you'll be the one hurting in the end."
She paused: "The report's already out. If you want to pretend you didn't see it, I can't stop you."
Kael didn't curse me, nor did he mention unbinding.
He still drove me to work as usual and accompanied me to prenatal checkups.
But every time we came back from a checkup, he would ask: "When are you going to take care of it?"
I told him countless times—the child was his.
But he would hold me and say, with that same gentle tone as before: "Elara, I can pretend this never happened."
"Just let the baby go, and we'll go back to how we were."
Until the tenth week, when I suddenly hemorrhaged.
He arrived at the Tower just as I came out of the operating room.
He stood by the bed, pale as death.
I thought he would finally believe me.
Instead, he asked the healer: "Is the tissue still available? Can we apply for a paternity test?"
I took off the ring on my left ring finger—that ring wasn't just a wedding band; it was the medium through which a Sentinel and Guide channeled spiritual energy after bonding. On the day he put it on me, his fingers had brushed through my hair, and he'd said, "No matter what you sense, I'll be on the other end."
I said: "When the results come out, send me the unbinding agreement."
As for whose child it was—to me, it no longer mattered.
The healer handed me the authorization form.
I flipped to the last page and signed my name.
Kael stared at me, as if he hadn't expected me to be so decisive.
"Elara."
"You sign too." My voice was hoarse, the IV port trembling with my hand: "Sign it and leave. I want to sleep."
Kael sat back down by the bed, pulled the blanket over my exposed feet: "Once the results come out, this will all be over."
I closed my eyes: "Mm. Over."
He must have caught a different meaning—his hand stopped on the blanket edge: "I don't want to unbind with you."
"I do."
"You're not in a good place right now. Don't make impulsive decisions."
That same line again.
Ever since he'd gotten that assessment report, every word I said was dismissed as emotion.
Every question he asked, though, was "being cautious"—just seeking the truth.
After the anesthetic wore off, my lower abdomen throbbed in waves.
I curled up, and Kael immediately pressed the call button, then crouched down to hold my hand: "The healer will be here soon."
Three years into our bond, he was still as gentle as ever.
A Sentinel's body instinctively relies on a Guide's spiritual regulation. In early pregnancy, my moods fluctuated wildly, and he would stay by the bed all night, his palm against the back of my neck, using his spiritual energy to sort through my chaotic perceptions.
Now the child was gone, and he stayed by my side—fixated only on whether its blood carried his own.
When I woke, it was dark. Kael wasn't in the room.
Serena's voice came from outside the door: "Ten weeks—theoretically possible. But for tissue this early, whether we can rule out maternal contamination depends on the sample."
Kael's low voice asked: "So the results might be inaccurate?"
"I can't guarantee anything. She was willing to sign—maybe she's confident. Or maybe she asked around first and knows this test might not be conclusive. Don't let her talk you back around before the results even come out."
Kael was quiet for a long time before answering: "She just lost the baby. Don't talk about her like that."
"Fine. I'm meddling." Serena gave a light snort. "All these years, have I ever not warned you when you were about to make a mistake? She sheds two tears, and suddenly I'm the villain!"
The door pushed open.
Serena walked in with an insulated container, saw I was awake, and paused: "You heard?" She didn't pretend—at least she had that going for her.
"I heard."
Serena set down the container and turned to glare at Kael: "I told you to close the door!"
Kael's face darkened: "Go home."
"I spent two hours making this, brought it over, and haven't even had a sip. Fine—I'm in the way."
She reached the door and turned back: "Elara, our lab did look at it twice. You know what Kael's situation is."
I looked her in the eye: "Looking at the same sample once before and once after centrifugation—you call that two checks?"
Serena's expression shifted slightly: "The results were the same. What difference does it make?"
"One sample, looked at twice—and you call it two tests." I stared at her. "Kael believed you, decided I'd cheated, and wouldn't even acknowledge his own child."
Kael steadied my shoulder: "Lie down first." I pushed his hand away.
Serena stood by the door, biting her lip: "I was trying to help you both. If you want to treat me like an enemy, fine—suit yourself!"
"Serena." Kael called after her. "Send me the full report."
She shot him a glare: "I already did. You didn't read it—who's to blame?" The door slammed shut.
Kael pulled up the image Serena had sent—it cut off at "Mental link shows abnormality." Whether there was more text below, he couldn't see.
He set his communicator down: "I'll go get it myself tomorrow."
"Why not today?"
He looked at me and said nothing.
Because today he'd already made up his mind. His wife was pregnant, her Guide conduction was abnormal—what was there left to double-check?
第2章
The next day, a Tower healer came to record family history for the miscarriage screening.
After she finished with me, she looked at Kael: "Is there any history of mental conduction disorders on the paternal side?"
He thought for a moment: "If the father is someone else, would I need to find that person?"
The room went quiet. The healer looked at him, then at me.
I grabbed the water glass from the bedside and threw it—water splashed everywhere: "It's already gone. Who else do you want to call in to identify the body?"
Kael went pale: "I want to know why it couldn't be saved."
"You won't even acknowledge it's yours—so why do you care why it's gone?"
He crouched down and picked up the scattered papers one by one. The last one was wet; he wiped it with his sleeve: "Because you carried it."
The healer said nothing more and left with the documents.
Kael clipped everything back together and set it where I couldn't reach: "Take it out on me if you want. Just don't hurt yourself."
I looked at the red marks on his hand where the glass had hit—and found it all utterly absurd.
That afternoon, Serena sent what she called the full explanation—it still only contained the test data.
I asked him: "Didn't you say you'd go get it yourself?"
"The Tower healer isn't back until next week. Serena sent the paper report."
"You believe everything she says."
"She's worked at the Tower for eight years."
"I'm your wife."
Kael frowned: "Why are you comparing those two things?"
"I'd like to know too." I stared at him. "Because she works at the Tower, when she says I cheated, you believe her?"
"She didn't say you cheated."
"Then what are you investigating right now?"
He looked away and flipped to my ultrasound report: "It says seven weeks here. That week I was on a mission in the North."
I froze: "You think seven weeks and two days means it was conceived exactly seven weeks ago?"
"What else would it mean?"
"That's counted from my last heat cycle—not from the day we actually conceived."
"Serena said there's machine error." He flipped to the calendar from two months ago: "Then tell me—what days was I home, and what days was I on mission?"
"Are you interrogating me?"
"I'm trying to match the dates."
"And after you match them?"
"Then I'll stop asking."
I grabbed his communicator and turned the screen off: "You know what time I wake up and what time I come home. And now you want me to account for every single day to prove I didn't sleep with someone else?"
"I didn't say that."
"But that's exactly what you're doing."
Kael was silent for a moment, then put his communicator away: "If you don't want to talk about it, wait for the results."
My fever hit thirty-eight degrees, and my wound was showing signs of infection.
Kael didn't sleep all night. In the early morning, I was shivering with cold, and he tucked my hands into his own clothes to warm them: "Sleep. I'm here."
I was feverish and hazy, leaning into his arms. A Sentinel's body instinctively seeks a Guide's spiritual comfort in weakness. I'd been in this embrace for six years. When he first passed the Guide assessment, he'd given me his spiritual key, saying, "You can come in anytime." When we struggled to conceive, he'd shielded me from his family's questions.
I had been certain that even if the whole world doubted me, Kael would stand by my side.
But as I leaned against his chest, I heard him reply to Serena:
【She says gestational age should be pushed back two weeks.】
Serena replied quickly: 【Ultrasounds have error margins too. She can spin it however she wants now. Wait for the test.】
I was fully awake.
I sat up straight from his arms, and he felt my forehead: "Still cold?"
"No."
"Then sleep a little longer."
I turned over, facing the wall.
At dawn, I was discharged. Kael tied my scarf for me and held my hand the whole way home.
I stared out the window—didn't pull away, but didn't hold back either.
