I left with the child, but he regretted it afterwards

I was stunned.

Disgusting?

“No,” I shook my head with a bitter smile. “Kurt, you are the one who makes me sick.”

“Don’t argue,” Zelda cut in, her voice trembling as she forced out a sob. “It’s my fault. Sister has every right to blame me.”

Kurt immediately stepped in front of her, shielding her with his body, disappointment darkening his eyes. “Look at Zelda. Doesn’t that make you feel ashamed?”

Suddenly, an old memory nudged at me.

I met Kurt’s gaze. “Do you remember what you told me the night you asked me to be your mate?”

For a moment, his expression went blank.

That brief flicker made everything feel absurd. I laughed softly, bitterly. “You said I was more important than your life.”

He looked away. “You weren’t like this back then.”

“So you changed your mind?”

“I didn’t.” His voice rose abruptly, almost desperate. “Yvonne, of course I love you. But Zelda’s parents saved my life, and I promised them—”

“Enough.” I turned, Ethan still trembling in my arms. “It’s been six years. I’ve heard enough.”

At the healer’s cavern, the tribe’s spirit doctor took one look at Ethan and his face turned grim.

“What were you thinking? Even if a pup this young isn’t allergic to sea-creatures, you cannot grind fire-shrimp into milk-root mash. Had you arrived one moment later, he might not have survived.”

My head swam. “Fire-shrimp?”

The healer frowned at my tone and sighed. “Find a new caretaker. Whoever fed him this… did not do so with good intent.”

Zelda.

My legs nearly gave out.

I had almost lost Ethan.

I steadied my voice. “Can you prepare a written record of his test findings?”

After returning to the den, I drafted the separation pact.

In the garden hollow, Kurt hovered anxiously around Zelda. “Your wound hasn’t closed. Don’t strain yourself.”

Zelda smiled faintly as she loosened the soil around a small sapling. “I’m only tending the earth. I’m fine.”

“That is the intertwined tree you planted for me. I want it to grow strong. Even if I can’t stay by your side, I’ll still have it.”

Kurt grabbed her shoulders. “Don’t say that. I planted that tree for you. It means we’ll be together forever. Don’t you believe that?”

My mind went blank for a moment.

A sharp ache tightened my chest.

A new sapling stood in the best part of the garden.

Not long ago, a tree had grown there—the Albizia lovers’ tree we planted on the day we forged our mate-bond. It symbolized eternal love.

After Ethan was born, Kurt had said he wanted a tree for him in that sacred spot, a symbol of strength for our child. He claimed he moved the Albizia for Ethan’s sake.

It was a lie.

He didn’t want a place for our son.

He wanted a place for Zelda.

I drew in a long breath, walked over, and opened the separation pact to the signature page. “I want to register Ethan in an insurance scroll. Sign this.”

“Why are you here?” Kurt cleared his throat, uneasy. “Don’t you already have protections for him? Why add another?”

He reached to read the document.

As I moved to block him, Zelda tugged on his sleeve. “Kurt, go ahead and speak with her. I’ll wait outside.”

“Wait, I’ll come with you.”

“No need.”

He shoved the scroll back into my hands. “Leave it in the study. I’ll sign it once I’ve read it.”

I grabbed his wrist. “I’ve read it. Just sign.”

He frowned, glanced nervously at Zelda, already holding the doorway open.

He scribbled his signature quickly, then ran after her without looking back.

“That’s it.”

I stood there dazed.

Just like that, our six-year mate-bond ended—so carelessly, so disgracefully.

I walked into the pup’s chamber and pressed a kiss to Ethan’s warm little forehead.

“Baby… we’re free now.”