Trapped in a Novel as the D-Class Alpha I Hated Most-Chapter 158: My Pink Bunny...

After a warm bath, I sit curled on the couch, the lingering steam still clinging to my skin like a memory of warmth.

Deniz stands before me, gently rubbing my silver hair with a soft towel. His movements are slow and careful, deliberate in a way that makes me feel cherished.

Each pass of the fabric against my scalp sends small shivers down my spine, grounding me in the present moment.

The warmth of the water has seeped into my bones, loosening the knots I’ve been carrying all night.

My heart feels lighter now, calmer.

The apartment is quiet around us, filled only with the soft sound of the towel moving through my hair.

But Moon’s voice still echoes in my mind, unwanted and persistent.

Break up. Break up. Break up.

I’ll wait for you.

The words circle like vultures, refusing to leave.

My fists clench against the cushion beneath me, fingers digging into the soft fabric.

Neon, just forget about it. Why are you still thinking about that nonsense?

It’s never going to happen. Deniz and I are solid. We’re forever. That stupid promise means nothing.

"Zyren."

Deniz’s voice cuts through the spiral, soft and warm like honey. I blink, pushing the thoughts away, and look up at him.

A soft smile plays on his lips—genuine, patient, entirely his. The kind of smile that makes me forget, for a moment, that the rest of the world exists.

"What are you thinking about?"

I return the smile, matching his warmth as best I can.

"Nothing."

His hand continues its slow work, drying my silver hair with infinite tenderness. He doesn’t push, doesn’t ask more.

He just... takes care of me.

"Did you like your surprise?" he asks.

I freeze.

My face shifts into genuine confusion, brow furrowing.

Surprise? What surprise? Where? Which one?

I look around the apartment as if a wrapped gift might materialize from the shadows.

"Where’s the surprise?"

His smile fades just a little—a flicker of something quickly masked, replaced by warmth. He leans down and squeezes my cheek gently, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Where are you lost?" he teases, but there’s a question underneath.

Concern, maybe. Or curiosity.

I bite my lower lip, guilt flickering through me.

"I’m sorry. I just..."

He studies me for a moment, those dark eyes seeing more than I probably want them to. Then he straightens and holds out his hand.

"Stand up."

I obey without hesitation, placing my hand in his. He pulls me gently to my feet and leads me across the living room, toward the long mirror standing in the corner.

We stop in front of it, and his arm slides around my waist, pulling me gently against his side.

His warmth seeps through the thin fabric of my nightshirt.

"See?" he murmurs.

I stare at our reflection.

My silver hair is still damp, curling slightly at the ends, darker than usual from the water. His dark hair is messy, falling across his forehead in soft waves that make him look younger, softer.

His dark eyes meet mine in the glass, soft and warm and full of something that makes my chest ache with its intensity.

We stand there in comfortable silence for a long moment, just looking at ourselves, at us.

Then I notice.

The night suits we’re wearing—they match. They’re clearly a couple’s set, designed to complement each other.

One shirt is dark, the other light, but the pattern flows between them. And on the fabric, two small hearts are embroidered, nestled together.

Beneath them, our names written in delicate script.

Zyren.

Deniz.

I was so lost in my thoughts earlier that I didn’t even notice when I put it on.

A soft smile spreads across my lips, genuine and warm, reaching my eyes for the first time tonight. I turn to look at him directly.

"They’re so cute."

My voice is soft, full of wonder.

"I love them." A pause, guilt flickering again. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

"I’m sorry I didn’t notice earlier. I was so—"

He leans in and kisses my cheek, soft and quick, cutting off my apology.

"It’s okay. I know you’re tired. I know tonight was hard."

I turn back to the mirror, looking at both of us again. At how we fit together. At how right this feels.

His arm around my waist, my body leaning into his, the matching shirts a small declaration to the world.

Then I freeze.

"What?" Deniz asks, noticing the shift in my expression.

I point at the mirror. At my reflection.

"Why did you choose pink for me again?"

My cheeks flush slightly, a warm pink that probably matches the shirt perfectly.

He laughs quietly, the sound light and warm, filling the quiet apartment.

"It suits you."

I pout dramatically, turning to face him fully. My arms cross over my chest, though the effect is probably ruined by the soft, fuzzy fabric.

"Other colors suit me too. If you actually tried something different for once."

I poke his chest gently.

"You always give me pink. Always."

His voice drops, low and intimate. He pulls me closer with the arm still around my waist, eliminating the last space between us.

"You know," he whispers, his lips brushing my ear, sending a shiver down my spine, "when you wear this color, you look so sexy."

A pause.

"I can’t control myself."

My breath catches.

"I love seeing you in it," he continues, his voice a low rumble that I feel in my chest.

"My bunny." Another pause, deliberate, teasing.

"My pink bunny."

My cheeks ignite, burning red. I look away, suddenly shy, unable to meet his eyes.

The reflection in the mirror shows a stranger—someone soft and flustered and completely undone by this man.

Then, without warning, he lifts me into his arms again.

I don’t protest. I don’t pretend I want to walk. I just rest my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat—steady, strong, mine—as he carries me toward the bedroom.

The door closes softly behind us, shutting out the rest of the world.