Chapter 0395

Noah

The night before…

Noah’s hands trembled as he stared at the photo strip, his eyes wide with disbelief. The images before him told a story he couldn’t remember living, yet every fiber of his being recognized them as true. There he was, years younger, his arm draped casually around Hannah’s shoulders, both of them grinning widely at the camera.

“Adam,” Noah’s voice was hoarse as he turned to the boy. “You said these belong to your mommy?”

Adam looked up at him with innocent eyes. “Mhm. She looks at them a lot when she thinks I’m not watching.” He tilted his head, curious. “Why do you look so funny in the pictures? You look so different.”

Noah swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. “I… I don’t know, buddy.”

He crouched and rifled through the box, finding more photos, letters, and small mementos. Each item seemed to chip away at a wall in his mind, revealing glimpses of memories he didn’t even know he had.

As he unfolded one of the letters, Noah’s breath caught in his throat. Hannah’s familiar handwriting filled the page: “My dearest Noah,” it began, “I miss you more with each passing day. The summer we spent together feels like a beautiful dream, and I can’t wait until we can be together again…”

Noah’s eyes burned as he read on, the letter detailing shared experiences and inside jokes he couldn’t recall, yet they felt so achingly familiar.

“Look at this one,” Adam said, holding up a little seashell that caught the light, faded pinks and blues like a sunrise. A thin leather strap had been threaded through a hole at the top, like a necklace. “Isn’t it pretty?”

The moment Noah saw that seashell, a flood of memories washed over him. She had picked that one out for him, one day while they were walking on the beach. He took the shell in his hands, and even now, he could still feel her fingers pressing it into his palm…

“Here… Doesn’t it look beautiful? Like the sunrise…”

Suddenly, holding that shell, Noah could see it all so clearly—a blissful summer spent with Hannah, stolen moments and secret smiles. He remembered the thrill of receiving her letters, the late-night phone calls where they whispered their dreams and fears to each other.

A particular memory stood out—visiting his mother in the hospital one last time. Hannah had convinced him to sneak in against his father’s wishes. She had kept watch while he said goodbye…

“Oh, Goddess,” Noah whispered, his hand shaking as he picked up another photo. It was of him and Hannah at some formal event, both looking slightly older than in the previous pictures.

He didn’t need to clear away the fog to remember that night. He remembered it all too clearly. It was the night their parents had announced their arranged marriage. Noah remembered the confusion he had felt when Hannah had approached him, her eyes shining with familiarity and love. He had thought it strange then, wondering how this girl he had never met could look at him with such warmth. She had kissed him, and he had been so damn awkward, so confused.

But he had met her before. He had loved her before. And by the time they had met again at that event, he had forgotten her.

Noah furrowed his brow, trying to put the puzzle pieces together. No one knew about their secret friendship that had blossomed into a romance. No one except… Zoe. Noah’s childhood friend, who he had confided in one day.

“I think she’s my mate, Zoe. I love her… I want to marry her…”

Noah’s mind raced. All these years, he’d believed that his mate bond with Zoe had been cut. He remembered the searing pain of the silver knife, the agony of feeling that connection severed.

But it wasn’t Zoe. It had never been Zoe. It was Hannah. Hannah was his mate. His eternal moonlight. And someone—Zoe—had taken that from him. Had taken his memories, his love, his true mate, and replaced them with false memories and a fabricated bond.

“Hold him down,” Zoe had said, her face monstrous in the flickering firelight. She brandished a silver knife in her hand, and it reflected Noah’s terrified face back at him. “Don’t worry, Noah… It’ll hurt, but once I’m done, you won’t love her anymore. She won’t be your mate…”