Trapped in a Novel as the D-Class Alpha I Hated Most Chapter 130: I Am Just... Loved

I gasp, my eyes squeezing shut against the sudden assault of brightness. I blink rapidly, waiting for the world to co back into focus—

And I freeze.

The apartnt isn’t dark anymore. It isn’t even the sa apartnt.

Fairy lights drape across every wall, soft and golden, their tiny glow casting a warm, intimate haze over everything. Candles flicker on every surface—the coffee table, the kitchen counter, the windowsill—their flas dancing like living things.

Red petals blanket the floor, a path of velvet leading sowhere my eyes haven’t found yet. Roses. Dozens of them. In vases I’ve never seen before. Their scent fills the air, thick and sweet and intoxicating.

It’s like stepping into a dream. Like stepping into the pages of every novel I’ve ever read, every scene I ever imagined late at night in my tiny, cheap apartnt, believing I’d never have anything like this.

Never.

My eyes trace the room slowly, drinking in every detail—the way the candlelight catches the petals, the way the fairy lights make shadows dance on the walls, the way the whole space seems to breathe with warmth and love and him.

Then my gaze drops.

And I forget how to breathe entirely.

Deniz is kneeling.

In the center of the petals, surrounded by light and flowers and everything beautiful, he kneels before .

A small velvet box rests in his hands.

His dark eyes are lifted to mine, and the look in them—I’ve never seen anything like it.

Open. Vulnerable.

Hopeful. Burning.

He’s dressed differently tonight. A deep red outfit that hugs his shoulders, his chest, the lean lines of his body.

His shirt is unbuttoned at the collar, just enough to reveal the strong column of his throat, the hint of skin below.

His dark hair is styled back, swept from his forehead, showing more of his face than usual. More of him.

He looks... breathtaking.

Like soone painted by light.

"Zyren..."

His voice is soft. Barely above a whisper. But it reaches across the space between us, wraps around my heart, and squeezes.

I can’t move. Can’t speak. Can’t do anything but stand here, frozen, my heart slamming against my ribs so hard I’m sure he can hear it.

He opens the box.

Two rings rest inside, nestled against dark velvet.

Silver. Simple. Elegant.

They catch the candlelight, shimring, waiting.

"Zyren."

His voice again, steadier now, but still so gentle it makes my chest ache. He looks up at , his dark eyes holding mine, and I see everything in them.

Every mont we’ve shared. Every stolen glance. Every kiss. Every silent confession we never had the courage to speak aloud.

"Will you be mine?" A pause. His throat moves.

"Forever?"

The first tear falls before I realize I’m crying.

It slides down my cheek, warm and silent, and then another follows, and another. I can’t stop them. I don’t want to stop them.

This isn’t real.

But it is.

The petals beneath his knees are real. The candlelight warming my skin is real. The ring box in his hands is real.

And he—Deniz, my Deniz—kneeling before , offering forever—he is the most real thing in any world I’ve ever known.

In my old life—Neon’s life—I read scenes like this. I devoured them, hungry for a happiness I never thought I’d taste.

I imagined what it would feel like. I dread about it in my loneliest nights.

But imagination is nothing. Dreams are shadows.

This—this—is real.

Deniz is still waiting. Still watching. Still loving with those dark, patient eyes.

"Zyren."

He says my na like it’s sacred. Like it’s the only word that matters.

"I promise I’ll always make you happy. No matter what happens. I’ll always be by your side. Until the end of my life."

My tears fall faster. I can’t speak. I can barely breathe through the pressure in my chest, the overwhelming, impossible joy expanding inside .

But I can nod.

I nod quickly, desperately, a lifeti of yes in that single motion.

My hand lifts, reaching for him, trembling, and a smile breaks across my face—so wide it hurts, so bright it must outshine every candle in this room.

Deniz’s face transforms. Relief, joy, and love crash over his features, and he’s smiling too.

He lifts his hand slowly, as if afraid I might disappear, and closes his fingers around mine.

His touch is gentle. Reverent.

He takes the smaller ring from the box—my ring—and slides it onto my finger.

It fits perfectly.

Like it was always ant to be there.

Like my hand has been waiting my whole life to wear it.

He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses it. Soft. Warm. A seal on a promise we haven’t finished speaking.

I reach into the box with my free hand and take the other ring. My fingers tremble as I slide it onto his finger.

It catches the light, gleaming against his skin, matching mine.

Our hands join. The rings touch. A perfect circle.

He stands, rising to his full height, and cups my face in his hands. His thumbs brush away my tears, gentle as butterfly wings.

His eyes roam my face, drinking in, morizing this mont.

Then he leans in.

His lips et mine.

The kiss is soft at first. A question. A confirmation.

But I’m done with soft. I’m done with questions.

I hold his face, pulling him closer, and kiss him back with everything I have. Properly.

Deeply. Pouring every unspoken word, every desperate hope, every impossible dream into the movent of my lips against his.

He groans softly, his arms wrapping around , pulling flush against him.

The kiss deepens, becos sothing more—a conversation, a promise, a beginning.

The candles flicker around us. The fairy lights glow overhead. The red petals scatter beneath our feet, crushed and fragrant.

And in this mont, in this impossible, borrowed life, I am not Neon.

I am not the boy who watched happiness from a distance.

I am not soone else’s story.

I am just... loved.

Completely. Desperately. Forever.