Trapped in a Novel as the D-Class Alpha I Hated Most-Chapter 156: I’ll Wait... For The Day You Come Back To Me...
His voice is hoarse, scraped raw.
"First..."
He swallows hard.
"Promise me one thing."
I blink, confusion flickering through me. Then I nod slowly, wary but willing to listen. Willing to give him that much.
"What?"
His gaze is steady now—no more tears, no more pleading. Just something quiet and certain and terrifying in its intensity.
"Promise me," he says carefully, each word measured, deliberate, "that if you ever break up with your boyfriend..."
My expression changes. The word breakup hits me like a bullet to the chest.
"...you’ll come back to me. No matter when. No matter where. No matter how much time has passed."
I step back.
My hands fall from his face, dropping to my sides like dead weight. The distance between us grows—one step, then another—until the marble floor between us feels like a chasm.
"Moon."
My voice is sharp, cutting, a blade meant to sever whatever this is.
"I don’t think you’re in your right mind right now."
His voice is clear. Firm. No break, no whisper, no tremor—just a quiet certainty that terrifies me more than any outburst could.
"I’m in my right mind. More than I’ve been in years."
He holds my gaze, unblinking.
"Promise me. You’ll come back to me. No matter when."
I look away, at the city lights glittering beyond the glass wall, at anything but him. The buildings stretch into the darkness, thousands of windows glowing like eyes watching this impossible moment.
"That’s impossible."
He shakes his head slowly.
"Nothing in this world is impossible."
My gaze snaps back to him, anger flaring hot and immediate.
"Moon. Listen to me carefully." My voice rises.
"No matter what happens, I’m not breaking up with my boyfriend. Not now. Not ever."
He steps closer. Just one step—but it feels like a challenge, like a line being crossed.
"If that’s true," he says quietly, "then why are you so scared to make this promise?"
Frustration bleeds through every syllable.
"Because it’s useless! Because it means nothing!"
"It’s not useless."
Another step. He’s close now—too close. His presence fills my space, my lungs, my mind.
"A promise is never useless," he says quietly.
"It’s a thread. A connection. Something to hold onto."
"Moon, stop being so stubborn." I can hear the desperation creeping into my voice.
"You’re talking nonsense. You’re not thinking clearly."
He holds my gaze, those blue eyes burning with something ancient and patient—something that terrifies me more than anger ever could.
"Zyren."
His voice drops—soft as velvet, hard as steel.
"I’ll wait for you my whole life."
I step back again until my back nearly touches the glass wall.
"I already told you." My voice is tight, controlled.
"Don’t hurt yourself like this. Move on. Find someone else. Be happy."
"I’m not hurting myself." His voice is calm, almost peaceful.
"I’ve waited for you since we were children. Waiting isn’t a big deal to me. It’s just... what I do."
He raises his hand, palm out, fingers slightly spread.
"Just promise me. And I’ll never interfere in your life again. I’ll step back. I’ll watch from a distance. I’ll be whatever you want me to be—cousin, stranger, ghost. Just... give me this one thing to hold onto."
I look down at his hand.
Then back at his face.
"How can you be so confident," I ask slowly, the words heavy on my tongue, "that one day I’ll break up with my boyfriend?"
Something in his gaze burns brighter—a flame fed by years of waiting, of never letting go.
"I’m confident because..."
He pauses. The air between us thickens, becomes something I could almost reach out and touch.
"No one will ever love you more than I do."
My patience snaps like a brittle twig.
"Moon—"
"Then why are you hesitating?"
He cuts me off, his voice rising just slightly, a crack in his perfect calm.
"If you’re so sure your lover will never leave you, if you’re so certain of your future together, then come on."
He gestures with his hand, fingers curling inward.
"Shake. Make the promise. What do you have to lose?"
The word breakup echoes in my mind, again and again, igniting something hot and furious in my chest.
The mere thought of losing Deniz—of anyone even suggesting it—fills me with a rage that burns away all caution.
"Fine."
I slap my hand into his.
The contact is electric, immediate.
Before I can react, before I can pull away, he moves. His hand tightens around mine and pulls—hard, desperate, using the momentum to close the distance between us.
His arms wrap around me—tight, desperate, crushing.
His face presses against my neck, his breath warm on my skin. His body shakes with the effort of holding back everything he feels.
He inhales deeply, like he’s trying to memorize my scent—to carry it with him into whatever lonely future awaits.
"Moon." I shove against his chest, pushing, struggling.
"Let me go."
He doesn’t.
His lips brush my skin—featherlight, a ghost of a kiss, barely there.
It’s not demanding. Not claiming. Just... remembering.
"I’ll wait," he whispers against my neck, the words vibrating through me.
"For the day you come back to me. For the moment you realize."
A pause. "And when you do, I’ll slide my ring onto your finger. And I’ll never let you go again."
I push him harder, finally breaking free.
I stumble back, my chest heaving, my face red—not from shyness, not from embarrassment, but from pure, burning, incandescent anger.
"In your dreams," I spit, the words sharp as broken glass.
I turn and walk to the door. Each step is deliberate, measured, controlled.
My hand closes around the handle. The metal is cool against my palm.
I stop.
I don’t look back.
"And from now on," I say coldly, my voice carrying across the empty space, "don’t touch me. Keep a respectful distance. We’re cousins. Nothing more."
Silence.
I open the door and step out.
It closes behind me with a soft click.
A quiet sound, barely audible, but it feels like an ending—like a door closing on something that will never open again.
I walk down the hallway. The carpet muffles my footsteps. The lights are dim here, soft and forgiving.
Inside, my heart races, pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird.
Break up.
How could he even think that? How could he imagine that Deniz and I would ever—
I shake my head, pushing the thought away, shoving it into a dark corner where I don’t have to look at it.
It’s impossible. Completely impossible. We’re solid. We’re forever. We’re—
But the word echoes anyway, following me out into the night, a ghost I can’t shake.
Breakup.
Why does that word scare me so much?
