[BL] Alpha, You've Got the Wrong Mate! Chapter 144 — Don’t Cry

The two left the jewelry shop soon after, the sound of bells fading behind them.

The streets had grown quieter than earlier, and most vendors closed their stalls as dusk approached. Snowflakes began to fall again—light at first, like drifting ash in the air.

"Let’s find that shop before the snowfall gets worse," Zayden said, clearing his throat.

His voice ca out steadier than he felt. The image of Ren’s smile still lingered, pulling at sothing deep and irrational inside him.

It’s fine. He has every right to miss his mate.

Yet the thought didn’t ease the ache tightening in his chest.

Ren nodded softly, clutching the small box that held the necklace.

"Yes, my lord."

The tailor’s shop wasn’t far. Ren didn’t understand why Zayden got lost. Or maybe he was right—the snow made it harder to recognize it because it hid the naplate.

Lanterns glowed warmly through frosted glass, illuminating bolts of fabric stacked in neat piles. As they entered, the scent of dye and wool filled the air.

Zayden brushed snow from his shoulders. Then turned toward the oga, gently rubbing off the snow from him as well.

Ren parted his lips to say sothing but closed them right after.

Then, the General gestured toward the counter.

"Let’s get Soren’s outfit before he changes his mind again."

"He doesn’t seem the type to do that often," Ren smiled faintly.

"You have no idea." Zayden laughed softly.

The shop owner rushed toward the General as soon as she spotted him, greeting him.

"My Lord, I didn’t know you were coming—" panicked, she called for all her staff still present at the shop. So had left earlier because of the approaching storm.

While Zayden discussed asurents with the tailor, Ren wandered near the window display. His eyes caught on a length of lavender-colored silk—soft and pale, with a sheen that shimred when the light touched it. He froze. The colour and texture were too familiar.

Once he finished, Zayden walked toward Ren. He noticed the change in his expression.

"You like that one?" he asked, now standing beside him.

Ren hesitated. His fingers hovered above the silk before they barely grazed against it.

"It’s... similar to the robes Ilyan used to wear." His tone was quiet, almost tender. "He always said the colour reminded him of spring in the north."

Zayden’s chest tightened. The na again.

Ilyan.

That sa gentle way he said it, with warmth he’d never used for anyone else.

He turned slightly, pretending to inspect another fabric.

"I see," he simply said. He couldn’t let Ren notice how every ti he ntioned that na, a bitter expression ford on his face.

Ren smiled wistfully. "It is strange. I thought I had forgotten how those days felt... until now."

Or maybe he didn’t forget them. He simply buried them, guarding them until now. He had never allowed himself to pronounce that na in front of soone else before.

"Had you not told to be a friend, I doubt I would have been able to say all this..." he chuckled.

Zayden nodded softly.

He wanted to speak—to say sothing, anything—but no words ca.

What can I even say? Don’t think of him? Think of instead?

It would be selfish. And cruel. Because all Ren had left of that man were his mories.

Outside, the soft snowfall grew heavier, turning into a storm. The tailor glanced toward the door.

"You two should wait before leaving," she said, concerned. "The wind’s too harsh."

Zayden stepped toward the window. Snow was already piling high, swirling under the orange glow of the streetlamps.

He turned back to Ren.

"We’ll stay until it calms."

Ren nodded quietly, sitting on a chair near where a small fire burned. The glow reflected off his silver hair, making it gleam like frost. For a mont, Zayden just watched him—watched the faint smile that returned to his lips as he gazed at the pendant in his hands.

Maybe it was the firelight or the storm outside, but sothing inside Zayden cracked.

"You still miss him," he said quietly. It was not a question, but an acknowledgnt.

Ren looked up, startled by the gentleness in his tone. His eyes softened.

"Yes," he whispered, lowering his gaze, hands clutching tighter onto the pendant.

Zayden lowered his gaze. He leaned back slightly, smiling faintly to himself.

Although he knew it was sothing he would co to regret if Ren answered, he asked, "How did you et?"

"Oh," a soft gasp escaped Ren. He fumbled with the box in his hands before setting it gently on his lap, his fingers lingering on the edge.

He swallowed hard. Did he have to tell yet another lie? Maybe he could just leave out anything related to the temple, right?

"So?" Zayden raised his eyebrows, grinning as brightly as he could. He wanted to hear more of Ren’s voice. Even if it was about his mate. Even if it hurt him. Even if his heart felt like it was about to explode.

"Well, I t him when he ca to study."

"Study? In the forest?" Zayden narrowed his eyes, surprised.

Ren looked up at him, confused at first, then quickly nodded so as not to co off as suspicious. He almost forgot that he had told Zayden he lived in the forest all this ti.

"He... liked the forest," he added softly.

That wasn’t a lie. Ilyan had loved the green trees, the flowers that pushed through the grass during spring, and the bright sunlight of sumr.

"He used to say the forest was alive," he murmured. "That even when the world went silent, it was never quiet. The wind whispered words, the leaves rustling were like a lody that one would never forget if they listened."

His voice trembled on the last word.

Zayden stayed quiet. He didn’t know what to say—whether to offer comfort or to ask more. Every word Ren spoke painted a picture of a man he would never et, yet already hated. Not because Ilyan had done anything wrong, but because he had been loved by Ren, sothing that now felt like a dream to him.

Ren blinked as a tear slipped down his cheek. He brushed it away quickly.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t an to make this... strange," he forced a soft laughter.

"No. It’s not strange," Zayden shook his head, his voice low.

He wanted to reach out, to wipe away the tears himself, but his hands remained clenched beside him. The last thing he wanted was to frighten Ren, or make him retreat behind that polite smile again. He was opening up, slowly, steadily. Even if it was because of the one person he didn’t want to hear about.

"Don’t cry..." He whispered.

Ren looked up at him, nodding.

"I apologize."

"No, I didn’t say that for you to—" he paused, tightening his jaw. "Don’t apologize without a proper reason."

The servant blinked but nodded.

"Alright, My Lord."