The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven Chapter 482: She Remembered

[Draven].

Dennis and I stepped inside and shut the door behind us.

Mother was sitting at the edge of her bed, a book open in her lap. Her eyes lifted slowly—dark, soft, and confused.

The confusion deepened the longer she stared at us, as if her mind was trying and failing to arrange pieces of a puzzle.

She still looked impossibly young—pale, smooth skin, with not a wrinkle in sight. She had barely aged a day.

Sotis I wondered if it was a blessing or sothing far darker woven into her bones.

"Mother," I said quietly.

Her head jerked slightly, as if the sound of my voice snapped sothing into place. She shut the book imdiately and stood, her steps quick and unsteady as she ca toward .

"Draven?" she whispered.

I stiffened. She had recognized earlier than usual, only by my voice, which was a big surprise and improvent.

"Yes," I answered.

She touched my cheeks with trembling fingers, then wrapped her arms around my torso. I held her gently, careful not to startle her.

When she finally pulled back, her gaze slid past to Dennis. And the mont shattered.

Her brows drew together in confusion. "Draven... who is he?"

Behind , Dennis inhaled sharply. I felt it in the air, the tension that seized him like a blow. But I quickly tried to smooth the atmosphere.

"This is your second son," I said evenly. "Dennis."

Imdiately, her expression hardened. She shook her head, frowning. "I only have a daughter and one son."

Dennis looked away, his jaw clenched so tight I could feel the anger rolling off him. And just then, he moved, ready to leave the room, but I reached back quickly and caught his wrist.

I wasn’t letting him leave just like that, without even a try.

"No," I told her gently. "You had another son after ."

I didn’t say "before your illness consud you," as it would only ignite the storm I was trying not to raise.

Her eyes flicked between us—confused, searching, unravelling. "Really?" she whispered.

I nodded once.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, she stepped away from and approached Dennis. Her posture was unsure, fragile—like she was approaching a stranger she wasn’t certain she wanted to know.

Then, she stopped in front of him, looking up at his face as if sothing might click into place. And Dennis... He stood perfectly still.

But I could feel everything—anger, hurt, and longing clashing inside him like a war he couldn’t control.

Finally, Mother’s fingers brushed his cheeks—slow, searching, as if she were digging through mories she no longer possessed.

Her brows furrowed, her eyes narrowing as she peered into him. Then she said quietly, "He looks so much like that man."

My jaw twitched. ’I also look like Father.’

But before I could say anything, she pulled her hands away abruptly. Her expression twisted with confusion, then frustration.

"How co I can’t feel it?" she murmured, voice cracking at the edges.

A warning curled down my spine. "Feel what, Mother?" I asked carefully.

She shook her head—first once, then more violently, the agitation rising like a wave I knew far too well.

Her gaze snapped to mine. "I can’t feel it."

And then she broke.

Her eyes sharpened, anger replacing the softness from earlier. She lifted a trembling finger and stabbed it in my direction.

"You are just like your father." Her voice climbed. "A fraudster—always lying, always trying to deceive ."

Beside , Dennis scoffed under his breath, but I squeezed his hand sharply. Now wasn’t the ti for that kind of reaction.

"Mother," I said steadily, "I’m not lying to you. I have no reason to."

She laughed—a harsh, empty sound. Then she stepped back as her gaze cut between and Dennis like a blade.

"So, it’s either you are lying..." Her voice trembled. "...or I’m insane. Which is it?"

I didn’t answer.

There was no correct answer to that question. Any choice would trigger a storm.

But Mother didn’t wait for one. Her eyes returned to Dennis, hard and cold. "He is not my son."

Dennis didn’t move, but the silence around him shattered like thin glass.

Then she swung toward again, pointing sharply. "And you are not—"

Suddenly, she stopped mid-sentence. Her head turned, her nostrils flaring, sniffing the air sharply.

Then, she frowned, stepped past us, and walked straight toward the door with sudden focus.

Dennis and I split apart automatically to let her pass. She reached the doorway, paused, inhaled again—

Then she turned back to us and narrowed her eyes with unsettling clarity. "You brought soone with you?"

"Yes," I answered quietly. "My wife."

Mother tilted her head, studying with calm, unblinking curiosity. "Your wife?"

I nodded once, then quickly explained. "The last ti I visited, you asked when you would et her, and I told you the next ti I ca. So..."

She was unnervingly still for a mont. Then, she smiled softly. "I rember."

My brows twitched. ’She rembered?’

Of all the things to slip through the cracks of her fractured mory, she had rembered that conversation?

She couldn’t recognize sotis, couldn’t rember or acknowledge Dennis as her son, couldn’t rember her own als, but she rembered redith?

Before I could process it, she softly began reciting—almost dreamily—the exact description I had given her a year earlier.

"Silver hair... purple eyes... sharp tongue... mind of her own..."

Dennis leaned subtly toward , whispering under his breath, "She knows about redith?"

I didn’t look at him; I just humd in response.

Mother’s focus snapped back to . "The Angel is here?" Her voice was soft, reverent, warm. "Let see her."

A long breath escaped —half relief, half caution. This calm wouldn’t last forever, but we wouldn’t get a better mont than this.

I stepped forward, placing a hand on the door. "Alright," I said quietly. "You can et her."

And with that, I opened the door for my mother to see my wife.