After enjoying hot chicken soup that ward us from the inside out, sampling foods from the little stalls—the savory pancakes, sweet rice cakes, and skewers of at we shared between bites—and finishing with an ice cream cone that left us laughing at nothing and everything, Deniz and I finally find a quiet spot on the edge of town, far from the warm lights and noise of the stalls.
The grass is soft beneath us, cool against our skin and springy under our tired bodies. I lean back, letting my weight sink into the earth, exhausted in the best possible way.
The kind of tired that cos from pure, uncomplicated joy—from hours of being present and alive and happy. We’ve been like teenagers tonight—running, exploring, discovering, living in a way I never allowed myself to in my old life.
Deniz lies down beside , his head resting on his folded hands, his dark hair spilling across the grass like shadows.
Above us, the sky stretches endlessly—a velvet canvas scattered with stars so nurous they blur into a shimring river of light.
The Milky Way arcs across the darkness, a bridge of diamonds connecting one end of the world to the other.
"From this height," he murmurs, his voice soft and dreamy, carried away by the night breeze, "the stars look so big. Like we could reach up and touch them."
My eyes stay fixed on the sky, on the countless pinpricks of light that have witnessed centuries of lovers lying just like this.
"Yes," I say quietly.
"It feels like they’re close enough to hold. Like if I stretched out my hand, I could grab a handful of starlight."
Silence settles between us, comfortable and warm, the kind of silence that doesn’t need to be filled.
Then Deniz speaks again, his voice carrying a different weight now. Sothing softer, more vulnerable.
"Zyren..."
I wait.
"Do you rember the first day we t?"
I blink, my gaze shifting from the stars to his profile.
His eyes are still on the sky, dark and thoughtful, the moonlight tracing the beautiful lines of his face—the curve of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the softness of his lips slightly parted.
He waits, patient, letting the question hang in the air between us like the stars above.
What should I say?
In the novel I read in my other life, in the story I thought I knew, the author never described Deniz and Zyren’s first eting.
He was just a side character—a beta assistant who appeared when needed and faded into the background when not.
There were no details. No history. No mont of origin.
How can I rember sothing that was never written?
Deniz turns his head, his dark eyes eting mine, searching.
"Zyren?"
I force a small smile, hoping it reaches my eyes.
"I don’t rember," I admit softly.
He smiles back, soft and accepting, no judgnt in his gaze. "Really?"
"Hmm." I turn away, looking back at the stars, afraid he might see too much.
He turns back to the sky as well, and I watch his profile from the corner of my eye as he speaks, his voice carrying the weight of mory.
"Back then, I was such a newbie."
A soft, self-deprecating laugh escapes him. "I was so nervous I thought I might actually throw up in the lobby. I kept rehearsing what I would say, how I would bow, what title I should use."
He pauses, rembering.
"I thought my boss would be so older person—gray hair, a stern face, glasses perched on a sharp nose. The whole intimidating package."
A gentle breath.
"But when I first saw you..."
I feel him smile without looking.
"You were sitting in the president’s chair, and you were younger than . Younger, and more beautiful than anyone I’d ever seen."
A slow, wistful smile spreads across his lips, visible even in profile.
"From that first glance, I thought you were an Oga."
He chuckles softly.
"You were so delicate-looking. Your silver hair catching the light, your pale skin, your eyes that seed to look right through . I thought, ’There’s no way soone this beautiful is an Alpha.’"
He pauses, and sothing in his voice shifts.
"But soon I realized..." Another pause, heavier now. "You’re an Alpha with a bad temper."
He stops abruptly, like the words slipped out before he could catch them. His eyes widen slightly. Worry flickers across his features, visible even in the dim starlight.
"I’m sorry," he says quickly, turning to look at .
"I didn’t an—I shouldn’t have—"
I stay silent.
Alpha with a bad temper. He’s right.
There’s nothing wrong with that statent. Zyren was like that.
Cruel. Sharp. Unforgiving.
The novel painted him in shades of darkness—and those shadows weren’t entirely fiction.
Deniz rushes to apologize, his words tumbling over each other.
"I’m sorry. I didn’t an to say it like that. It just ca out wrong. I only ant that you were—you had a presence that—"
He exhales in frustration.
"I’m not explaining this well."
"No need." My voice is calm, quiet, cutting through his rambling gently.
"You’re right. I was a bad-tempered person. Before."
He blinks, processing my words, confusion flickering across his features.
I turn my gaze back to the stars, letting them anchor .
"What about now?"
He raises his eyebrows slightly, still recovering from his near-miss.
"What about... now?"
"Hmm." I keep my eyes on the sky, but I’m acutely aware of his gaze on , the weight of his attention.
"How am I now?"
Silence stretches for a mont, filled only by the distant sounds of the town behind us, the rustle of leaves in the breeze. Then his voice cos, soft and certain, carrying no hesitation.
"Now..." A pause, as if he’s choosing the perfect words.
"You’re sweeter than anything sweet I’ve ever tasted."
I stay silent, letting his words settle into my chest like warm honey.
Deniz shifts beside , propping himself up on one elbow to look down at .
"Zyren? Why are you quiet? Are you angry with ?"
I nod slowly, keeping my expression carefully serious.
"Yes."
He sits up imdiately and leans over , his face full of genuine concern. His hand reaches for my shoulder, gentle, worried.
"I’m sorry. Please don’t be angry. I didn’t an—whatever I did wrong, I’m sorry—"
I laugh—bright and genuine, unable to hold it in any longer. The sound bubbles up from sowhere deep and spills out into the night air.
He freezes, staring at , his worried expression slowly transforming into realization.
Then he lets out a huge breath, his shoulders sagging with relief.
"You scared ." His voice is half complaint, half laughter.
I reach up and grab his collar, pulling him closer. Our faces are inches apart, his breath warm on my skin, his eyes searching mine in the starlight.
"But I am going to punish you," I murmur, a teasing smile playing on my lips.
His expression shifts, worry lting into sothing else—a knowing smirk, a spark of mischief in his dark eyes.
"How?"
Our lips part, the distance between them shrinking, shrinking, the mont stretching like taffy in the warm night air—
"Deniz...!"
A voice cuts through the night like a blade.
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