CHAPTER 151: THE LAST PROMISE IN HIS ARMS

[Alvar’s POV—Late Night—Leif’s Chamber]

Leif fell asleep before I did.

Not because he stopped talking—no, he talked until the moment his voice dissolved into little exhausted hums—but because exhaustion dragged him under so fast he finished his sentence about "divine laser webs."

I stayed awake long after.

His forehead rested against my collarbone, breath warm, light, even... alive.

I traced his hair back with slow fingertips, memorizing every rise and fall of his chest. I had held him while he was cold and unmoving for too many hours—I needed this.

I needed the proof.

He shifted lightly. A tiny sound escaped him—soft, sleepy, and trusting. My heart squeezed so hard it hurt.

"...Leif," I whispered, brushing his cheek with the back of my fingers. "Sleep. I’m here."

He wriggled weakly, still cocooned in the blanket, and mumbled, "’M not going anywhere... mmm... stop tucking me, you menace..."

I froze.

Even half-asleep, he knew.

A helpless smile—the first calm, real one I’d managed since the incident—tugged at my lips.

Then he nuzzled into my chest.

Actually nuzzled.

Everything inside me melted into warm, golden chaos. I tightened my arm around him instinctively—gentle, careful, and protective.

Minutes passed.

Maybe hours.

I lost track.

The only sound was his breathing. The only warmth I cared about was his.

Then—

"Alvar..."

He didn’t open his eyes. Just whispered it. Soft. Sleep-heavy. Vulnerable.

"Yes," I answered immediately, leaning closer.

"...don’t leave."

My throat tightened.

"I won’t," I murmured. "Not even to breathe, if you tell me not to."

His lips curved sleepily. "Dramatic..."

"You married me."

A breathy laugh—half-asleep, weak, but real—escaped him. Then his hand pushed against the blanket, trying to escape his cocoon prison.

I loosened it instantly, gently freeing one arm so he could wrap it around my waist. His fingers curled into my shirt with surprising stubbornness.

"...better," he whispered, settling into me again.

My chest warmed at a speed that no divine explosion could match.

"Are you comfortable?" I asked, brushing his hair back again.

He nodded against my collarbone. "Warm... s’good... Don’t move."

So I didn’t.

***

[Leif’s POV—Dawn—Thorenvald Estate—Leif’s Chamber]

I woke up to... warm.

Like, very warm. It was like someone set a whole furnace behind me and then wrapped me in a fluffy sun. Something soft brushed my cheek. Fingers? Or a very gentle cat?

I opened my eyes blearily—and saw Alvar.

Sitting beside me, half-reclined, watching me with those impossibly soft eyes like I personally resurrected the moon for him.

He froze when I opened my eyes.

Then he exhaled shakily—like he’d been holding his breath for hours.

"...good morning," I whispered.

"Good morning," he replied softly. "How’s your head? Chest? Breathing? Do you feel cold? Dizzy? Lightheaded?"

"Alvar... I just woke up."

"Yes. That is when symptoms show."

I blinked slowly.

"Baby," I murmured, reaching up to touch his jaw, "I’m okay."

His eyes softened like a storm melting into sunlight. He caught my hand, pressing a kiss to the palm so gently I felt my heartbeat trip over itself.

"You scared me," he murmured. "I’m still not done being selfish about it."

"...how selfish?"

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he lifted me. Like I weighed nothing. Like I wasn’t a grown man with a blanket still half-wrapped around me.

"W-WAIT— Alvar???"

His arms were strong, secure, and too warm. He sat me upright on his lap like I was made of clouds and breakable porcelain. Then he reached for a bowl on the bedside table.

Porridge.

Steaming. Warm. With honey.

He scooped a spoonful. Lifted it.

"...Alvar," I said warily.

"Say ’ah.’"

"I AM TWENTY—"

"Say ’ah.’"

I stared at him.

He stared back with terrifying determination.

I sighed.

"...ah."

He fed me. Gently. Slowly. Like I was recovering from death...which, honestly, fair.

The second spoon came. Then a third. He wiped the corner of my mouth with his thumb, his expression tender enough to make me combust.

"I can feed myself," I tried.

"I know."

"Then why—"

"Because I need to take care of you."

I stopped arguing. Not because he was right. But because his voice cracked on the word need. He fed me the rest in silence, occasionally brushing my bangs back, occasionally kissing the top of my head like he couldn’t help it.

And when I finally leaned my forehead against his shoulder, full and warm and a little embarrassed... He held me.

Arms wrapped gently around my waist. Face buried into my neck. Breath warm on my skin.

"...never scare me again," he whispered.

I smiled softly into his shoulder.

"No promises," I whispered back.

He tightened his hold just enough to make my heart flutter.

"I’ll be ready," he said. "For anything. As long as you’re here."

Warmth bloomed in my chest so fiercely I thought I’d glow again.

"Alvar..." I whispered.

"Yes?"

"I love you."

He froze. Then slowly—very slowly—he pressed his forehead to mine.

"I love you more than I can say in words," he breathed. "You’re my everything."

And his voice shook—not with fear this time, but with relief.

Relief that I was here.

Alive.

In his arms.

And his to care for.

... But how do I tell him? How do I tell him I might be leaving soon?

A quiet ache squeezed my chest. I leaned into him, burying my face against the curve of his shoulder, and whispered—barely audible—

"...I wish you could come to my world."

His entire body stilled. His hand, which had been stroking my back, froze mid-motion. Then—His grip tightened. Slow. Firm. Almost desperate.

"Leif..." His voice was low. Controlled. But shaking beneath the surface. "Why are you saying things like that? Like you’re... going to leave me."

I closed my eyes.

Because I am, aren’t I...?

"One day," I whispered. "One day I have to... don’t I?"

Silence.

Deep. Heavy. A silence that felt like the world holding its breath. Then—he exhaled, long and shaky, and pressed a kiss to the hair of my head.

Very gentle.Very soft.Very much like a man trying to kiss away fate.

When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper. "I will fight that god."

My eyes snapped open. "...Huh? "

He tilted my chin up, making me meet his gaze. His eyes were steady. Fierce. Unyielding. He kissed the tip of my nose—softly, lovingly—and brushed his thumb across my cheek as if memorizing the shape of me.

"If your world tries to take you from mine," he murmured, voice low and resolute, "I will break that boundary. I will come to your world."

I blinked. "Alvar—"

"I’m not letting you leave me." No hesitation. No doubt. Just certainty.

A weak laugh escaped me. I curled closer to him, resting my forehead under his jaw.

"And even if you succeed... you’ll forget me," I murmured. "Once I return, this world will reset. You’ll lose every memory of me."

His arms instantly tightened.

"Maybe I will forget," he whispered, his voice shaking for the first time, "but my heart won’t."

My breath hitched.

"In every world, in every life, in every universe—my heart will remember you."

His lips brushed my temple. His thumb stroked my cheek again. His voice was soft, breaking at the edges.

"And when I reach your world... even if I don’t remember your name—"

He kissed the corner of my eye. "I will fall in love with you again."

Another kiss, warmer this time.

"We will start anew."A third kiss, lingering.

"A new beginning. In your world."

Something inside me—some fragile, hopeful part—trembled violently. I let out a small, helpless chuckle. Not entirely happy. Not entirely sad. Something bittersweet in between.

Because somewhere deep inside...

... I wished it could be true. I wished our story could end with a beginning. But destiny—the story the grandmother goddess wrote for me—wasn’t a fairy tale.

Our ending...was meant to be empty.

A sad, lonely ending.

A separation carved by fate.

My voice wavered as I whispered into his chest—"...Alvar... our story... it wasn’t written to end together."

His arms wrapped around me tighter—as if he could shield me from destiny itself. As if holding me closer could rewrite fate.

His lips pressed into my hair, warm and trembling.

"Then we’ll write a new ending," he murmured. "One the gods can’t control."

And for a moment—just one—I let myself believe him.

Believe in us. Believe in something more than an empty ending.

Because in his arms...everything felt possible.

Even defying fate.

I shifted slightly—wiggling in his hold like I wanted to see his face clearly. He instantly tightened his arms around me, as if any movement meant I’d vanish.

"Alvar," I whispered.

His breath warmed the side of my neck. "Yes?"

"...Can we kiss?"

He froze. Only for a heartbeat. Then his fingers slid under my chin—slow, reverent—tilting my head up. His eyes softened so deeply it hurt to look at them.

"My love," he whispered, brushing his thumb across my cheek, "I am all yours. You never need permission."

And then—He kissed me.

Not hungry.Not rushed.Not desperate.

But slow.

So slow it felt like time bowed to him. His lips moved against mine with a tenderness that made my chest tighten—as if he were memorizing the shape of me, the taste of me, the warmth of me.

As if he knew—

This kiss might have to last a lifetime.

I curled my fingers into the fabric over his heart, pulling him closer, pressing myself into him like I wanted to carve this moment into my bones.

His hand slid to the back of my head, cradling me gently, guiding me deeper into the kiss.Every exhale, every soft hum, every trembling touch was a confession.

A promise.A plea.A goodbye hiding inside a hello.

He parted the kiss only to breathe me in—forehead pressed to mine, breath unsteady—before leaning in again.

This time the kiss was heavier.Full.Lingering.

Full of everything we were afraid to say out loud. His thumb stroked my jaw as he kissed me slower, deeper—like he was trying to pour every word he couldn’t voice into me.

Stay.Don’t leave.Let me fight fate for you.Let this not be the last time.

My own lips trembled against his. Because I felt it too. That quiet fear— that desperate love—that aching, unspoken truth.

This kiss...It felt like our last.

An ending disguised as a promise. A memory being carved before destiny ripped us apart.