Chapter 2: A Wife Forgotten
“I’m not married,” Katherine said flatly, eyes searching the unfamiliar stone ceiling.
A healer glanced at the others. “She’s lucid. That’s… something.”
“I said,” she repeated, trying to sit up, “I’m not married. I was on the road—heading north. The treaty caravan. Did we get attacked?”
“You arrived three years ago, my lady,” the woman said gently. “You’ve ruled beside the Alpha-king since then.”
Katherine froze. “That’s impossible.”
Footsteps thundered beyond the curtained doorway. She tensed instinctively.
Then he entered.
Damian Whitefang.
Snow still clung to his fur-lined cloak, melting into rivulets. He scanned her face—hungry, careful, almost… afraid.
“You’re awake.”
“Why are you here?” she asked, heart racing.
He crossed the room in three strides, crouched beside her, and reached for her hand. She pulled away.
“I don’t—” She shook her head. “I don’t remember any of this.”
He exhaled slowly, like something inside him cracked. “You don’t remember me.”
“No.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, a pained smile. “Three years, gone.”
“I was supposed to arrive. We were to wed under treaty terms. Then—” She touched her ribs. “There was an attack. That’s all I know.”
“You never made it to the altar that day,” he said quietly. “You vanished en route. I searched every mountain path, every ravine.”
“I—what?”
“They said you were dead. I refused to believe it.”
She shook her head. “You’re telling me we’re married? That I lived here? Ruled?”
Damian nodded once. “You were… everything.”
“I don’t feel like a Luna.”
“You were never meant to feel like anything but yourself.” His voice dropped. “You used to hate the word ‘Luna.’ You preferred ‘partner.’”
She blinked.
“I don’t know who you’re describing,” she whispered.
“You will.”
He stood. “Your ribs are healing. You need rest.”
“I want an annulment.”
Silence.
Then, softly, “No.”
Her eyes narrowed. “No?”
“You’re in no state to make legal decisions.”
“I don’t know you. I don’t know *me*. And you say I’ve ruled beside you for years? You expect me to pretend everything’s fine?”
“I expect nothing. But I will not sign away something you built with your own blood just because your memories have left.”
“I didn’t agree to this.”
“You did,” he said, voice clipped. “And until you remember that, I’ll protect you—whether you hate me or not.”
He turned and left, boots thudding like distant war drums.
*Protect me?* From what?
She sat in silence until a maid approached with warm broth.
“Why do you all keep calling me Luna?”
“Because you are,” the girl whispered.
Katherine stared down at the tray. “Was I… happy?”
The maid hesitated. “We weren’t allowed to speak freely. But… I saw how he looked at you. Like a wolf lost in a storm that finally found its fire.”
Katherine’s throat tightened.
That night, she couldn’t sleep.
She wandered to the balcony. Two elite guards bowed and stepped aside. The wind was colder than before.
In the distance, atop a parapet, a figure stood motionless in the snow. Damian.
Not pacing. Not patrolling.
Just watching the sky.
She didn’t wave. She didn’t call his name.
But somehow, he turned toward her.
Even at that distance, she felt it—the weight of his gaze. Silver eyes reflecting moonlight. Searching her face like it was a scripture.
She turned away first.
When she returned to her chambers, the bed had changed. It was larger. Two pillows. Two blankets.
One side empty.
The other side… slightly indented.
As if someone had sat vigil for a long, long time.