Trapped in a Novel as the D-Class Alpha I Hated Most-Chapter 148: Your Eyes.. They Look Sad...

I walk through the hallway, my steps slow, my face carrying something I can’t quite hide. Sadness. Confusion. That hollow feeling when you expect to see someone and they’re just... not there.

Deniz’s desk is empty.

"Has Mr. Deniz arrived?"

I ask one of the assistants passing by.

She shakes her head.

"Not yet, President."

Did he not come to the office today?

The thought settles in my chest, quiet but unsettling.

If he wasn’t coming, he would have called. He always calls. A message, at least. Something.

I pull out my phone and dial his number again. It rings. Once. Twice. Three times.

No answer.

Maybe he went to the hospital. To see Uncle David.

That makes sense. That’s a good reason. That’s—

I push my office door open and step inside. The door closes behind me with a soft click, sealing me in silence.

I take out my phone again, my thumb hovering over the screen. I should text him.

Just in case. Just to—

Two arms wrap around my waist from behind.

I freeze.

The warmth seeps through my clothes, familiar and grounding. My body knows before my mind catches up. The way he holds me—tight, secure, like he’s afraid I might disappear. The way his chest presses against my back. The way his breath warms my neck.

A soft smile spreads across my lips, slow and helpless.

He rests his chin on my shoulder, his voice a low murmur against my ear.

"Good morning, President."

My smile widens. I cover his hands with mine, lacing our fingers together.

"Morning, Mr. Deniz." I pause, letting the warmth settle.

"Did you miss me?"

His arms tighten, pulling me closer.

"So much."

I squeeze his hands.

"Me too."

His lips brush my neck, soft and lingering. Then he inhales deeply, breathing me in like I’m something precious, something he’s been missing.

"Last night," he murmurs against my skin, "I couldn’t sleep well."

I turn slowly in his arms, loosening his grip just enough to face him. His dark eyes meet mine—innocent, soft, his. There’s a shadow beneath them, a tiredness he can’t quite hide.

I lift my hands and cup his face gently, my thumbs tracing the curve of his cheeks. Then I lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips. Just a whisper of contact. A promise.

"If you want to sleep," I murmur against his mouth, "you can use my inner suite. Rest for a while."

His hands slide around my waist again, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us. A soft, teasing smile plays on his lips.

"What if my boss finds me napping during work hours?"

A matching smile curves my own lips.

"He won’t."

He kisses my cheek, slow and warm.

"Why?"

I squeeze his cheeks gently, forcing his lips into a playful pout.

"Because he wants a nap too."

His eyes widen just slightly, a flicker of surprise—then warmth, then something brighter. He releases my waist and catches my wrist instead, his grip gentle but eager.

"Let’s go."

Before I can respond, before I can even process the shift, he’s pulling me toward the inner suite door.

His steps are quick and purposeful, and I follow without resistance — because with him, I never feel the need to.

The room is wrapped in dim, golden light, the heavy curtains doing their job well—blocking the harsh afternoon sun, turning the space into a soft, intimate cocoon.

Only thin slivers of light sneak through the edges, painting warm lines across the floor, across the bed, across us.

Deniz and I lie tangled together on the soft sheets, a mess of limbs and warmth and quiet contentment. His arm is wrapped around my waist, pulling me close, eliminating any space between us.

My face rests against his chest, rising and falling with each steady breath he takes. His heartbeat is a slow, steady rhythm beneath my ear—a lullaby I never want to stop hearing.

My fingers trace lazy patterns on his shirt, circling one button, then another, then back again. A peaceful smile lingers on my lips, soft and unconscious.

He kisses my temple, a gentle press of warmth.

"This morning," he murmurs against my skin, "I saw a post on social media. Moon Arden announced he has a secret lover."

My fingers pause mid-circle. The smile on my lips fades just a little, just enough to notice if you’re looking.

"Hmm," I manage.

He continues, oblivious to the shift.

"Do you know who his secret lover is?"

My fingers resume their tracing, slower now, deliberate. I stay silent for a moment, then finally, "Nope."

Deniz sighs softly, accepting. "I thought you might know, since you two are cousins." A pause.

"Anyway, I’m happy Mr. Angel is finally free from all those scandals."

My breath is warm against his chest.

"I’m happy too."

The words feel thin, even to me.

Deniz goes still.

I feel him looking at me, feel the weight of his gaze on the top of my head. Then, slowly, his hand lifts. His fingers find my chin, tilting my face up until my eyes meet his.

I blink, startled by the sudden attention.

His dark eyes search mine, soft but probing. Concern lives there, quiet and patient.

"Zyren." His voice is gentle.

"Are you okay?"

I force a smile. It feels fragile, like it might crack.

"Yes. I’m fine. Why do you ask?"

His thumb brushes my lower lip, a featherlight touch.

"Lately, I’ve noticed you don’t look well. And now... you seem distracted. Like you’re somewhere else."

He pauses, his gaze never leaving mine.

"You don’t look okay."

I stare at him, caught in the truth of his words.

He sees me. He always sees me.

"Your eyes," he continues softly.

"They look sad. If something’s wrong, you can tell me. You don’t have to carry it alone."

I sit up slowly, pulling away from his warmth. The sheets pool around my waist. I look down at my hands, clenched in the fabric.

Should I tell him? About Moon? About the deal?

About the way he touched me this morning, the way he looked at me, the way his scent filled the room and made me weak?

My fists tighten.

No. I can’t. Not now. Not when we finally have peace. Not when he’s looking at me like this.

Deniz sits up too, close beside me. His hand finds my face, cupping my cheek gently, turning me toward him.

"Zyren." His voice is a quiet plea.

"What are you thinking?"

I smile again. It’s softer this time, but still not quite real.

"Nothing. I’m just tired."

He holds my gaze for a long moment. I can see him weighing my words, deciding whether to push, whether to believe me. His eyes are too kind, too knowing. But he doesn’t argue.

Instead, he pulls me into his arms.

I go willingly, gratefully, burying my face in the warmth of his neck. His scent wraps around me—clean, fresh, red rose—and for a moment, the chaos quiets.

"Then," he whispers against my ear, "from now on, I’ll take care of you more. So you won’t get so tired."

I hug him back, my arms tightening around him. A genuine smile finally touches my lips, soft and real and full of everything I can’t say.

I close my eyes, melting into his warmth.

He murmurs against my ear, "Zyren."

"Hmm?" I don’t open my eyes.

"Please stay at my place tonight."

The words are soft, barely above a whisper, but they fill the silence completely.

My smile widens. Warmth spreads through my chest.

Before I can answer, before I can say yes—

My phone buzzes on the bedside table.

The sound is sharp, intrusive, shattering the peace like a stone through glass.

Deniz glances toward it.

"Your phone."

I tighten my grip on him.

"Ignore it."

"You should check. What if it’s urgent?"

I take a deep breath, the warmth in my chest cooling slightly. I reach for the phone, the screen glowing in the dim room.

A message.

Moon: After office, I’ll pick you up for dinner. 9pm.

I stare at the words. The warmth drains away completely, replaced by something cold and heavy.

9pm. Dinner. The deal.

Deniz’s arms are still around me, but suddenly the room feels colder.