Chapter 125: He Came Back To Me..

Deniz pushes the bedroom door open with his shoulder, still cradling me in his arms like I’m made of something breakable. My heart hammers against my ribs, a wild, frantic rhythm I can’t control.

I stare up at him, at the soft light catching the edges of his jaw, at the dark eyes fixed on something ahead, something I can’t see.

He lays me on the bed. Gently. Reverently. The sheets are cool beneath me, a soft sigh of fabric welcoming my weight. I keep staring at him, my cheeks already warming, my breath shallow.

He leans down.

His lips find mine. Soft. Warm. A kiss that tastes like a question, like a promise, like the beginning of something.

I close my eyes. My lips part, just slightly, hoping for more.

Hoping he’ll stay. Hoping—

He pulls the blanket up. Tucks it around my shoulders. The warmth envelops me, but it’s not the warmth I wanted.

My eyes snap open.

Deniz straightens. His hand lingers on the blanket for a moment, then drops.

“I’m going to take some fresh air,” he says quietly.

“You sleep.”

I watch him walk away. My lips are still tingling from that single, fleeting kiss. My body is still warm from being carried. My heart is still racing, waiting for something that isn’t coming.

He reaches the door. His hand closes on the knob.

Say something. Call him back.

Ask him to stay.

The door opens. He steps through.

It closes behind him with a soft, final click.

I’m alone.

I stare at the ceiling. My fingers clench in the blanket, twisting the fabric. Disappointment sits heavy in my chest, a quiet ache where something brighter should have bloomed.

I thought we were going to...

I stop the thought. My cheeks ignite, a fresh wave of heat that burns all the way to my ears.

Neon. You shameless, shameless creature.

I press my palms to my face. They’re warm. Everything is warm.

What were you thinking? You two just started dating.

You’ve only kissed a handful of times. And you’re already—

I can’t finish. I can’t even form the word in my mind.

I pull the blanket up, over my head, hiding from the empty room, from my own embarrassing thoughts. The darkness beneath the fabric is safe.

Private.

My whole face is on fire. My heart won’t slow down.

Since when did I become this impatient?

The numbers on the alarm clock glare at me through the darkness.

1:47 AM.

One hour. He’s been gone one hour.

I stare at the ceiling, counting breaths, counting heartbeats, counting the seconds that stretch into minutes that feel like hours.

The bed feels too big without him. Too cold. Too empty.

Then— slowly, my eyelids grow heavy, and sleep claims me while I’m still listening for him.

**********”

My eyelids flutter. Heavy. Warm.

Then they open, slow and lazy, to morning light spilling through the curtains in soft golden ribbons.

I blink, focus swimming into place.

And the first thing I see is Deniz.

He’s beside me. Sleeping. My head is pillowed on his chest, rising and falling with each quiet breath. His arms are wrapped around me, one hand splayed on my waist, holding me close even in sleep.

When did he come back? Sometime in the night. Quietly. Without waking me.

A soft smile spreads across my lips.

Unstoppable. Helpless.

Waking up to his face is the best feeling in the world.

I lift my hand slowly, as if even the smallest movement might shatter the fragile peace wrapped around us.

My fingers hover for a second—just watching him. Memorizing him. The soft fall of his lashes. The quiet rise of his chest beneath my cheek.

Then I touch him.

Featherlight.

The tip of his nose first. A quiet, almost shy affection. Then lower—slowly—tracing the shape of his lips.

Warm. Real. Here.

I shift slightly against him, lifting my face from the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. My breath mixes with his before my lips touch his—soft, careful, almost afraid.

Not a kiss to wake him.

A kiss to make sure he’s still mine.

His lips part beneath mine, warm and familiar.

His eyes open—slowly, like he’s been waiting for this, like he knew I’d come to him.

His hand rises from my waist, sliding to the back of my neck. His fingers tangle in my silver hair, gentle but sure. His other arm tightens around me, pulling me closer, deepening the kiss.

My cheeks burn. My breath catches. I can’t breathe and I don’t care.

Our lips move together, a rhythm we’re still learning, still discovering. It’s clumsy in places.

Perfect in others. It’s ours.

Finally, I pull back, gasping softly, my lungs screaming for air. My breath is uneven, my heart a wild, joyful chaos.

Deniz’s hand strokes my hair, brushing the silver strands back from my temple with infinite tenderness. His voice is quiet, rough with sleep.

“I’m sorry for leaving you last night.”

I stare at him, my cheeks still flushed, my lips still tingling. I smile.

“It’s okay. Do you feel better now?”

He smiles back, soft and warm, and nods.

I drop my head onto his chest, burying my face against him, wrapping my arms around him as tightly as I can.

He hugs me back, his hold just as fierce, just as grateful.

The morning light wraps around us like a blessing.

And I understand, suddenly, quietly, that sometimes love isn’t about demanding answers or filling silences.

Sometimes it’s about giving space. Letting someone breathe. Trusting that they’ll come back.

He came back to me.

And that’s all that matters.

……………………….

(🌸Bonus: After Zyren Sleeps — Deniz POV)

The bedroom door opens without a sound.

Deniz steps inside, closing it gently behind him. The room is dim, silver light from the window spilling across the bed.

Zyren is asleep.

Breaths steady. Peaceful. One hand curled near his face like he’s guarding his own dreams.

Deniz’s steps are slow, careful. He moves like a man entering something sacred.

He sits on the edge of the bed.

For a moment, he just watches.

Silver hair scattered over the pillow. Soft lips parted slightly.

No tension. No suspicion.

Just trust.

His fingers rise.

They brush Zyren’s cheek, featherlight.

“No one is better than you,” he whispers, voice low, rough around the edges.

“No one.”

His thumb traces the line of Zyren’s jaw.

“You’re too beautiful.”

A pause.

“Sometimes… I can’t control myself.”

His fingers drift lower, hovering near those pink lips. He traces them gently, almost reverently.

Then his expression changes.

“I don’t like seeing tears in your eyes,” he murmurs.

“And I don’t like someone else’s scent on your skin.”

His gaze darkens.

“It makes me burn.”

But then—slowly—a soft smile curves his lips.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispers.

“No matter what happens.”

He leans down.

And presses a soft kiss to Zyren’s temple.

A vow disguised as tenderness.

Then he lingers there for a breath longer than necessary… before finally slipping beside him, one arm wrapping carefully around Zyren’s waist.

Holding.

Protecting.

Claiming—quietly.

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