All Chapters of He Fell in Love After I Got Cancer: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

“You sure you want to wear that?” Mira teased, arms folded as she leaned in the doorway.Emerie looked down at the simple lavender-colored cloak, its hem embroidered with tiny crescent moons. “Too much?”Mira smirked. “Too subtle. Albert’s going to faint.”Emerie rolled her eyes. “He’s seen me covered in blood and dirt. I think I’ve used up the shock factor.”“Still,” Mira said, stepping closer. “You’re glowing. Like someone finally stopped surviving and started living.”Emerie looked at her reflection—healthier than she remembered, cheeks touched with warmth, eyes less haunted.“I’m not healed,” she said.“You’re healing,” Mira corrected. “That’s the part most people forget is allowed to look beautiful.”---The Spark Festival marked the midpoint between summer’s bloom and autumn’s return. Thunder Paw filled with color—drapes of purple, silver lanterns, and tables lined with honeyed pears, roasted roots, and moonberry tarts.Children dashed around with gl

“Take it slow,” Mira warned. “Your body’s been through war.”Emerie stood barefoot at the edge of a shallow stream winding through Thunder Paw’s moon garden. The soft moss beneath her toes felt more real than anything had in weeks.“I feel strong,” she said, surprised by the truth of it.“You are,” Mira replied. “But strength that forgets pain becomes arrogance.”Emerie smiled faintly. “Don’t worry. My pain’s not going anywhere.”“It shouldn’t,” Mira said. “That’s how you remember what mattered.”---By midmorning, the mesa had shifted into quiet celebration.The moonstone pools had accepted Emerie—and lived to tell the story. Elders called it a sign. Warriors nodded in respect. The pups followed her like ducklings, weaving lavender wreaths for her hair.Albert found her seated by the reflecting pool, a wreath crookedly perched on her head.“You look terrifying,” he said solemnly.“Good,” she replied. “Fear me and my crooked crown.”He chuckled and s

“You shouldn’t be here alone.”Emerie didn’t flinch at the voice. She stood at the edge of the cliffside shrine, her hands clasped behind her back, eyes scanning the fog below.Jolene stepped out from behind the moss-covered arch, boots crunching over gravel. Her dress, once luxurious, was worn thin—tattered edges, sleeves too tight around her wrists.“I’m not alone,” Emerie said. “Not anymore.”Jolene’s lip curled. “Yet here you are. At the same shrine where your mother was buried. Funny how wolves always circle back to their roots.”“I came to pay respect,” Emerie said. “Not to dig up ghosts.”Jolene walked closer. “Respect? For the mother who left you in a world you never fit into? Or for the mate who replaced you?”Emerie turned. “You look tired, Jolene.”“I could say the same,” she replied. “Except you’re glowing. Reborn, they say. Touched by moonstone and mystery.”“I was dying. Now I’m not.”“Unfair, really,” Jolene said softly. “I watched you bleed

“They’re coming.”The scout's voice was breathless, gravel-laced. He stood before the Thunder Paw and Storm Ridge joint council, dust still clinging to his cloak.“How many?” Albert asked.“Three dozen. Maybe more. Rogues. Armed. Organized. They’re using old Storm Ridge war signals.”Allan cursed under his breath. “They’ve been watching us longer than we realized.”Emerie’s fingers tightened around the edge of the table. “Jolene’s behind it.”Mira nodded grimly. “She knows the terrain, the systems. She knows *us.*”“She’s after more than revenge,” Emerie said. “She wants chaos—collapse.”Albert rose. “Then we give her order. And steel.”---The courtyard bustled within the hour.Emerie moved through triage preparations, calling instructions.“Set stretchers near the watchtower entrance. Clean bandages go left—salve and serum on the right.”A young medic dropped a vial. “Sorry—”“You’re fine,” Emerie said, crouching to help. “Just breathe. We’re

“Hold still or the fireflies will never land,” Emerie whispered, crouched beside a giggling pup with hair full of petals.The little girl gasped. “Do they really land on people?”“They land on hearts that shine,” Emerie said, tapping the girl’s chest. “And yours is blinding.”Laughter echoed across the valley.The annual Harvest Moon Festival had returned—this time, not just to Storm Ridge, but to both packs. For the first time in generations, Thunder Paw and Storm Ridge wolves danced side by side under one banner.Literally. The dual crest—moonstone and silver oak—fluttered on every archway, stall, and lantern string.Emerie stood, brushing grass from her simple blue dress.“You’re popular,” Mira said, approaching with a goblet of berry cider. “I saw three kids try to braid your hair when your back was turned.”Emerie grinned. “They’re just bribing me for extra mooncakes.”“Still,” Mira said. “You wear Luna well.”Emerie glanced across the clearing.Al