<h4>Chapter 236: The Dreamwoven Dawn</h4>


    <strong>Jacob~</strong>


    After I kissed her—slow and tender, like the hush before dawn—Easter suddenly stilled. Her trembling stopped. Her breathing deepened. And just like that... she fell into a deep, unnatural sleep.


    I cradled her carefully, brushing a curl from her cheek, watching her chest rise and fall. I felt the pull of magic in the air—the kind of sleep only loss could leave behind.


    I closed my eyes and whispered into the space between worlds. "Mariel," I choked on my emotions. "It’s time."


    A soft voice answered, like wind dancing through harp strings. "Meet me at the ce you bought for her. I’ll be waiting, Mist."


    I stood, silently scooping Easter into my arms, her weight light as a sigh against my chest. I moved quickly and quietly down the hallway to Rose’s room.


    The soft hum of a luby Easter had sung the night before still lingered in the air, like perfume in an empty ballroom.


    Rosey curled in her nket, hugging a stuffed owl. Hershes were thick, her cheeks rosy, her little breaths steady. My heart pinched at the sight of her—how innocent she still was in all this. How much I’d give to keep her safe from the weight of the world.


    I lifted her gently. She stirred only slightly, tucking her face into my chest and mumbling something about pancakes and clouds.


    With one hand cradling Rose, the other pressed to Easter’s side, I summoned the wind. The air around us shimmered, shifted. A pull. A tug. The ground fell away—


    —and just like that, we were inside the house I’d bought for her. Quiet wrapped around us like a warm nket—calm, serene, exactly her kind of peace. Beyond the wide windows, a golden meadow stretched out, glowing in the morning light like something out of a dream. Every detail in the house had her name written on it: floral curtains that danced in the breeze, walls painted a gentle sage, and a hand-carved bed frame that felt like it belonged in a storybook.


    Iid them both on the bed—mother and daughter. Rose snuggled against Easter, small fingers instinctively curling into the hem of her mother’s sleeve. My chest ached.


    I stepped back, dragging a hand through my hair.


    Mariel was already in the living room when I walked out. She stood by the firece, cloaked in twilight-blue robes embroidered with silver vines that shimmered like constetions. Her eyes, ageless and deep, turned to me.


    "She sleeps like the dead," she whispered, brushing her fingers through the air as if stirring invisible threads. "The pain in her heart swallowed the light... but I can fix that. If you still want me to."


    I hesitated, the words bitter on my tongue.


    "If she wakes up and doesn’t remember me... do it."


    Mariel gave a slow nod, her face unreadable, like she’d already seen a thousand endings.


    "Then I’ll wait. Until the storm breaks."


    So I stayed. I sat. And I waited.


    Time didn’t pass. It crawled—slow and sharp, like frost etching its way across a windowpane. Outside, the first birds dared to sing. Inside, the fire crackled low and steady.


    Mariel sat across from me, braiding threads of dream between her fingers. Her lips moved in anguage older than memory, her eyes lost in some other ce.


    Then—


    Something changed.


    A groan came first.


    Then, the rustle of sheets.


    After that, a creak from the mattress like a whispered warning.


    I was on my feet in a heartbeat, blood roaring in my ears.


    Easter blinked up at the ceiling, dazed and pale. "What...? W-Where...?" Her voice was dry, scraped raw. She sat up fast, eyes darting wildly around the room. "Where am I?!"


    I stepped forward, slowly. "Easter. Hey—"


    Her head snapped toward me.


    Our eyes met.


    And just like that, I knew.


    She didn’t know who I was.


    She recoiled like I was made of fire. "Who are you?! What is this?! Where’s my daughter?!" Her panic snowballed, voice splintering. "Is Rubening? If he finds me here, he’ll be furious—he’ll—he’ll kill me, I—"


    "Easter, no—please," I said, raising my hands as I knelt beside the bed, gentle, steady. "You’re safe. Rose is here, right beside you. Look."


    Rose stirred at the sound of her name, blinking sleepy eyes. "Mama?" she mumbled, voice small.


    Easter turned. One look—and she shattered.


    Tears spilled down her cheeks as she wrapped Rose in her arms, clinging to her like a lifeline, like she’d almost drowned and was holding the one thing that kept her breathing.


    I swallowed hard against the knot rising in my throat.


    "Ruben can’t hurt you anymore. You’re not with him. You left. You divorced him. I... I helped you."


    She whipped her head back to me, eyes wild with disbelief.


    "No. That’s not right. I couldn’t have left. He told me he’d never let me go." Her voice shook like a house in a storm. "You’re lying. This—this isn’t real. It’s another one of those twisted dreams."


    I edged closer, voice soft as dusk.


    "No, Easter. This is real. You’re free. You’ve been free. You and Rose have been living with me. You were happy... You were healing."


    Tears flooded her eyes, but they weren’t from relief.


    "I don’t know how you know my name, but, I don’t know you," she whispered, broken.


    That was it.


    The knife to the heart.


    I stumbled back, my legs suddenly weak. I’d lived for what felt like centuries, but nothing—nothing—could’ve prepared me for the heartbreak of being erased from the memory of the woman I love.


    I turned toward the door, words catching on the edge of a sob.


    "I’ll fix this," I murmured. "I promised I’d protect you... even from yourself."


    She didn’t answer. She just rocked Rose gently, singing a broken version of a luby she didn’t even know she’d written herself weeks ago.


    I stepped out into the hallway and called, "Mariel."


    She was already walking toward me, the dream threads now glowing faintly in her hands.


    "She forgot," I said hollowly.


    "I felt it," she replied with a nod. "The memory was too heavy. She didn’t just forget you. She forgot everything she’d healed from. Her brain rejected the peace."


    "She thinks her ex-husband’s still in her life."


    Mariel’s mouth tightened. "Then let’s fix that."


    We walked together into the room. Easter had already fallen asleep again, induced by Mariel.


    I stepped aside. "Do it, Mariel. Just like we nned. Give her a memory... a truth she can live with."


    "Truth is such a rtive thing," Mariel mused with a wink. "But I understand the assignment."


    She moved her hands in the air, slowly, gracefully, like a conductor directing the stars. Silver threads floated from her palms and settled like mist over Easter’s forehead.


    Her voice turned melodic. "Let her remember that she is free. That the divorce was final. That she met her family again... and saw their true faces. That she chose to walk away from them. That she is strong. That she’s happy."


    I watched as golden light pulsed with every word she spoke, weaving itself into Easter’s slumbering mind.


    "She will wake up remembering a peaceful life," Mariel said, her voice still enchanted. "No shbacks. No Ruben. Only freedom. Only warmth. Only happiness."


    The room grew still. The magic settled.


    Mariel exhaled slowly, her face glowing. "It’s done."


    "Will she believe it?" I asked, stepping to the side of the bed. "Will she believe she has always been this way?"


    "Yes," she said, brushing thest thread from Easter’s temple. "She’ll remember living happily alone with Rose. She’ll remember this house as hers. She’ll remember beingpletelyfortable here. She’ll rememberughter. And healing."


    I nodded slowly, heart heavy and hopeful all at once.


    Mariel smiled wickedly. "And don’t forget your promise, Mist."


    I met her gaze. "I won’t."


    She vanished in a whisper of light, leaving only the faint scent ofvender and stars behind.


    I looked back at Easter.


    Shey peacefully, her arm wrapped around Rose again, her lips parted in sleep, her brow uncreased.


    I sighed deeply.


    "You’re home, Easter," I whispered. "And you’re going to be okay."


    I took one more step back, then cloaked myself in invisibility, just as she began to stir again.


    I needed to see if it worked.


    If she’d smile when she saw the house as hers.


    If she’d remember living here alone with Rosa.


    If she’d truly forgotten everything about us. About me.


    And so I stood there, heart pounding in my throat, watching the woman I loved sleep like she’d never known pain.


    Waiting.


    Hoping.


    Breathing her name into the silence.


    "Easter."