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 one thing."

I blink, confusion flickering through . 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 sothing quiet and certain and terrifying in its intensity.

"Promise ," he says carefully, each word asured, deliberate, "that if you ever break up with your boyfriend..."

My expression changes. The word breakup hits like a bullet to the chest.

"...you’ll co back to . No matter when. No matter where. No matter how much ti 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 ant 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 more than any outburst could.

"I’m in my right mind. More than I’ve been in years."

He holds my gaze, unblinking.

"Promise . You’ll co back to . 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 mont.

"That’s impossible."

He shakes his head slowly.

"Nothing in this world is impossible."

My gaze snaps back to him, anger flaring hot and imdiate.

"Moon. Listen to 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 ans 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. Sothing 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 sothing ancient and patient—sothing that terrifies 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 soone 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 . It’s just... what I do."

He raises his hand, palm out, fingers slightly spread.

"Just promise . 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 to be—cousin, stranger, ghost. Just... give 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?"

Sothing in his gaze burns brighter—a fla fed by years of waiting, of never letting go.

"I’m confident because..."

He pauses. The air between us thickens, becos sothing 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 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 co 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 sothing hot and furious in my chest.

The re thought of losing Deniz—of anyone even suggesting it—fills with a rage that burns away all caution.

"Fine."

I slap my hand into his.

The contact is electric, imdiate.

Before I can react, before I can pull away, he moves. His hand tightens around mine and pulls—hard, desperate, using the montum to close the distance between us.

His arms wrap around —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 morize my scent—to carry it with him into whatever lonely future awaits.

"Moon." I shove against his chest, pushing, struggling.

"Let go."

He doesn’t.

His lips brush my skin—featherlight, a ghost of a kiss, barely there.

It’s not demanding. Not claiming. Just... rembering.

"I’ll wait," he whispers against my neck, the words vibrating through .

"For the day you co back to . For the mont 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 embarrassnt, 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, asured, controlled.

My hand closes around the handle. The tal 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 . Keep a respectful distance. We’re cousins. Nothing more."

Silence.

I open the door and step out.

It closes behind with a soft click.

A quiet sound, barely audible, but it feels like an ending—like a door closing on sothing 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 out into the night, a ghost I can’t shake.

Breakup.

Why does that word scare so much?