Wrong Script, Right Love Chapter 139: The Wedding Day

[Leif’s POV—ThorenVald Estate—Dawn of the Wedding Day]

I woke up to sunlight.

Warm, soft, golden sunlight filtering through pale curtains—painting my entire room in a quiet glow. For a mont, I simply lay there, blinking sleepily, tucked in Alvar’s arms.

His breathing was slow and steady behind . His hand rested over mine, fingers intertwined loosely—like he had fallen asleep holding onto and never let go.

A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips.

And today is...

My wedding day.

MY. WEDDING. DAY!!!

I quietly giggled inside, excitent fluttering in my stomach like I had swallowed ten butterflies and a whole sparrow. My heart thumped wildly—happy, nervous, a little panicked.

I carefully loosened Alvar’s hold.

Just a little. Just enough to wiggle out and start the long journey of looking extra, extra, EXTRA pretty.

...Except—WHOOSH!

A strong arm wrapped around my waist again and pulled straight back into the warm chest behind .

"Where," Alvar murmured sleepily, voice low and rough from sleep, "are you going... so early in the morning, hmm?"

I blinked at him. "Let go. I have to look extra pretty today."

He cracked one eye open—just one—and the lazy smile that spread across his mouth made my heart do backflips.

"You’re already brighter than the sun outside," he muttered, pulling even closer. "I think that much beauty is enough."

Then—he nuzzled into the side of my neck.

"Now give so beauty," he mumbled.

I slapped his head back gently. "Seriously—stop clinging to . It’s a special day; I have to be ready—"

"No," he muttered stubbornly, tightening his arms like I was a pillow he paid for. "Five more seconds. Just five."

I squird. "Alvar—"

"Leif," he cut in, voice softening, "love... just stay like this a little longer."

The way he said love lted sothing inside instantly.

He wasn’t teasing.

He wasn’t flirting.

He just genuinely didn’t want to let go. A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips despite myself.

"...Five seconds," I whispered.

He humd happily—actually happily. Like I just handed him the entire world.

His arms tightened around my waist. His nose brushed my neck. His breath ward my skin. And for those quiet five seconds...

I forgot the world. I forgot the worries. I forgot everything except the warmth of the man who was about to beco my husband.

And then...

he moved.

Not gently. Not teasingly.

His arm slid around my waist and dragged flush against him. My breath hitched—no, stopped—as his chest pressed against my back, solid and warm and unyielding. His breath brushed the curve of my neck, sending a violent shiver racing down my spine.

"After today..." he whispered, voice deep enough to sink into my bones, "...you won’t just be my fiancé, you will be my wife, officially."

My face ignited.

His fingers trailed up my side, slow and deliberate, stopping at the back of my neck. Not squeezing—just resting there. Possessive. Claiming. As if reminding he could hold in place with a single touch.

"After today," he murmured, lips brushing the edge of my jaw, "you beco mine, Officially."

My heart punched my ribs.

Then he said my new na—low, dark, heavy with sothing dangerous.

"Leif Alvar Thorenvald Regulfsson."

My breath faltered. I felt him smile against my skin.

"You hear that?" he whispered. "That na binds you to ."

His hand tightened slightly at my waist—not enough to hurt, but enough to send a rush of heat and fear through .

"And today," he murmured, voice dropping into sothing almost feral, "no god, no devil, no kingdom will stop from taking what’s mine."

I swallowed hard.

"Alvar..." My voice was barely a sound.

He tilted my chin up—slowly—forcing to et his gaze. His eyes weren’t soft. They were gentle, yes. But they were also, Certain. Hungry.

"Look at ," he commanded softly.

I did.

And the world vanished. His thumb brushed my lower lip—slow, dragging heat down my spine.

"You think I’ll let you hide behind work forever?" he asked quietly. "You think I’ll let you walk past with those soft eyes... untouched?"

He leaned in—so close I felt his breath lt against my cheek.

"No."

One word. Sharp. Final.

My fingers trembled against his shirt. He smirked—dark and knowing.

"After today," he whispered, "you won’t just be my husband."

His forehead dropped softly to mine, but his gaze stayed terrifyingly intense.

"You will be my responsibility." His thumb brushed my lip again. "My obsession."His hand slid down my back, slowly. "My Everything."

My breath shattered.

"And Leif..." he murmured, voice sinking lower, almost dangerous. "...once I have you—officially, completely—"

He brought his lips to my ear.

"I will not let you sleep on our wedding night."

My entire body went still. My heart—gone.

"W–What?"

He chuckled darkly, brushing a strand of my hair behind my ear. "You heard ."

My entire soul malfunctioned. "A-Alvar—!"

He simply smiled, the kind of smile that burned straight through my spine. "Don’t worry," he murmured, pulling close against his chest, "I’ll be gentle."

Then added, under his breath, with sinful softness—

"...mostly."

My heart violently tripped over itself.

I whipped around. "HEY—are you teasing !?"

Alvar chuckled, low and warm, eyes glittering with mischief. "Just look at your face. You get so adorably terrifying when you’re flustered."

I gasped—offended. "A—ADORABLY terrifying?!"

He grinned wider.

I punched his chest—lightly, but enough to make my point. "You—you’re a monster in bed! Of course I’ll be scared!"

He laughed harder—genuine, arrogant, beautiful—like I’d just fed his ego breakfast.

"Oh? A monster?" he teased. "Then you should be extra scared tonight—"

"NOPE. I hope your stupid dream gets ruined,"I snapped, scrambling off his chest.

He raised an eyebrow. "Stupid dream?"

"The one where I can’t walk for two weeks!" I hissed, pointing at him dramatically. "May it FAIL. Miserably."

I turned to leave—but before I could take a single step—WHOOSH.

Alvar’s arms wrapped around from behind, pulling flush against his chest.

"Don’t say things like that," he murmured, voice suddenly low. Serious. Soft. "I want to spend my life with you. As long as you’re here."

My breath stilled.

Just like that—he flipped the mood. From teasing to tender. From playful to sothing that made my chest ache pleasantly.

I smiled—small and warm—before gently prying his hands away.

"Alright," I said quietly, fingers brushing his, "Leave I need to go."

I yanked his hands away and walked out, saying, "see you... at the wedding."

I paused at the door. Turned my head slightly, eting his gaze over my shoulder.

"...my husband."

His eyes widened just a fraction—then he smirked. Slow. Dangerous. Absolutely smug. And he dropped back onto the bed like he owned the world.

"I’ll be waiting."

***

[Later—The Bridal Prep Room]

I was peacefully waiting for people to co and start the makeup. And the door opened. Sunlight stread in.

"Oh, finally they are here..."

And then—

WHOOSH—!!!

Three won BURST into the room at the EXACT SA TI. Hair flying. Capes fluttering. Glitter sohow appearing from nowhere.

And they shouted, in perfect choreography:

"WHOEVER YOU ARE, WHATEVER YOU ARE, OR WHEREVER YOU CA FROM—WE WILL MAKE YOU LOOK LIKE GODDESSES!!!"

The sound echoed like they trained at SM Entertainnt. Alina squealed and clapped like she just discovered heaven.

Zephyy sat frozen with his jaw on the floor.

Nick smiled politely.

And I?

"...Why do I miss idol concerts now?"

But it wasn’t over.

Their entrance performance began.

One stepped forward—with enough confidence to make the sun step aside.

She snapped her fingers—CLICK!

Turned sideways—Flipped her hair—Hand on hip— Eyes sparkling like she was about to debut.

"I..." she said dramatically. "...am EMMA—your hair goddess."

Spotlight might as well have fallen on her.

Another woman appeared out of nowhere behind her—Finger snap—CLICK!

Pose: sideways peace sign. Expression: "I own the world."

"I..." she purred. "...am JENNY—makeup artist of the century."

She winked.

Zephyy fainted.

Then—A third woman SLID in like she was entering a runway SNAP—CLICK! Did a full 360 spinAnd pointed two fingers at like she was shooting confidence bullets.

"And I," she announced. "...am NATASHA—stylist supre."

She pulled out ribbons and jewels like weapons. Then—All three stepped forward in perfect formation.

CLICK—CLICK—CLICK!

Their voices harmonized like trained idols: "WE. WILL. MAKE. YOU. SHINE. LIKE. GODDESSES!!!!"

Alina LOST it. "BROTHER THEY’RE SO COOL!!!"

Zephyy whispered, "Master... are... are all the humans nowadays like this...?"

And ?

I stared at them.

At their synchronized poses. Their glitter. Their entrance music that I’m PRETTY sure no one played.

And I muttered, dead inside: "...Yeah. I really miss idol concerts."

I raised my hand, "Can I... can I ask you sothing?"

Three heads turned toward in synchronized perfection.

"...Why are you clicking?"

Emma stepped forward first—chin high, hair fluttering like she stood in a wind machine.

"Darling," she said, placing a dramatic hand on her chest, "this is how professionals synchronize."

Natasha leaned in, deadly serious. "It alerts the team."

Jenny nodded with military precision. "It also keeps the subject still."

I blinked. "The... the subject?"

Emma smiled sweetly. Too sweetly.

"YOU."

Oh god.

Before I could escape—before I could even twitch— they advanced as one unit. A coordinated SWAT team of beauty gods.

CLICK–CLICK–CLICK.

I froze on instinct.

Jenny clapped her hands. "All right, darling. Let’s get you ready for your wedding."

Emma rolled up her sleeves like a surgeon. Natasha cracked her knuckles like she was about to fight a dragon. And just like that—

I, Leif Thorenvald current panic machine—was about to beco Alvar’s wife in exactly three hours.

The auspicious day we had been waiting for. The day everyone had prepared for. The day people were already gossiping about across kingdoms.

A day ant for joy.Celebration.Unity.

But destiny had always been cruel to .

And none of us—not even the gods—could’ve predicted how this beautiful day...Would turn into a nightmare for everyone.