Wrong Script, Right Love Chapter 163: The Man My Soul Recognized

[Renji’s POV—Eight Months Later]

Eight months.

Eight months since I woke in my world—this too-bright, too-small world without Alvar.

Eight months since the hospital discharged . Eight months since I cut ties with the woman who only rembered once I was useful.

Eight months... And I still haven’t moved on from him.

From Alvar.

His na still sits under my tongue like a ghost. His voice still echoes in the back of my skull—warm, broken, calling my na. His touch still burns faintly on my skin when I close my eyes at night.

I’m alive here. But so part of —the part that mattered—never made it back.

My hospital bills swallowed everything I had. Savings—gone. Job—lost. Apartnt—evicted. Resu—stamped with "one-year coma," which was apparently enough to make every company in this city run the other way.

So now?

I work part-ti... in a coffee shop.

A small, warm-slling place at the corner of a station street. Wooden counters. Plants everywhere. Soft jazz is playing.

A place where no one knows . A place where I can pretend—just for a few hours—that my chest isn’t hollow.

"One Aricano and a chocolate cake, please..." A custor’s voice jolted from my thoughts.

I straightened, forcing a smile—one that didn’t reach my eyes. "Sure," I said softly, tapping into the register, "One Aricano, one slice of chocolate cake. Please take a seat—I’ll bring it to you shortly."

My voice sounded normal. Human. Alive.

But inside...a part of was still kneeling on a battlefield of a world that no longer belonged to .

The machines hissed. Coffee dripped. Custors chatted.

Normal life.

Sothing I should have wanted. Sothing I should have been grateful for.

And then—

TRICKLE... trickle... trickle...

...Huh?

I blinked, looking around.

Coffee wasn’t dripping from my machine. It was coming from the counter behind . I turned—and found Mika Aoyama, my co-worker, frozen in place with a glass pot tilted in her hands.

The cup below it was already full. Overflowing. Coffee spilled around the edges in a widening puddle.

"Mika?" I called softly.

She didn’t react.

Her eyes weren’t on the cup. Or on the counter. Or even on the custors. She was staring ahead—completely still—as if sothing had stolen her breath.

"Hey... Mika," I said again, stepping closer. "The cup’s full."

Still nothing.

Her fingers shook—just barely—but enough for to notice.

"Mika." This ti, firr.

She blinked—once—slowly—like soone rebooting after a full system crash. Then her gaze snapped down to the overflowing cup.

"Ah—AHHH—RENJI, what do I DO?!"

She scrambled to shut the machine off, hands flailing like a panicked octopus, nearly knocking the entire pot to the floor.

Coffee splashed onto her wrist.

"Ah—!! Hot—hot—HOT!"

I sighed, grabbing a handful of ice, wrapping it in a cloth, and pressing it gently to her wrist. "Mika... gosh. What is wrong with you today?"

She hissed, puffing out her cheeks—and then her lower lip trembled.

"I... I... BROKE UP!!!!"

Heads turned. Custors glanced over. So regular custor whispered, "Again...?"

I stared at her blankly.

"Again?"

She nodded violently, sniffling like a five-year-old whose balloon popped. I exhaled through my nose, trying not to laugh, trying not to cry—both strangely possible these days.

"Mika, why don’t you take leave for today? I’ll manage here."

She froze mid-sniff. "R-Really?"

"Yes. Go. Before you break sothing else."

Her eyes welled dramatically. Then—without warning—she threw her arms around .

"OH MY GOD, RENJI, YOU’RE AN ANGEL. A TRUE MIRACLE. A SAINT. A—"

"Yes, yes," I muttered into her hair. "Please go before another machine explodes."

She sniffled, nodded vigorously, grabbed her bag, and practically skidded across the floor toward the exit like a cartoon character on a mission.

As soon as the door shut behind her, I stared at the ss on the floor.

"Gosh... what a disaster," I mumbled under my breath, kneeling to clean it.

The mop’s weight was grounding. The sll of coffee was comforting. The routine was familiar.

But my chest...that stayed hollow.

Mika was the only friend left who had managed to survive the drift of my life. We’d known each other barely five months, but she’d weaseled herself into my days with breakup rants, overly dramatic gestures, and a habit of crying over burnt toast.

She was chaotic and sweet.

And she patched the silence in my life more than she realized. But even with her chatter filling the air, even with her friendly warmth... I still felt empty.

Because...she couldn’t fill the empty space.

***

[Night—City Streets]

The winter wind nipped at my ears as I stepped out of the café, tugging my thin coat tighter around myself.

The streets were loud tonight.

Buses sighing to a stop, people laughing under glowing street lamps, children jumping around with sparkler toys. Strings of lights wrapped around every tree. Shop windows glowed warm and golden. Snowflakes drifted lazily through the air like pieces of a quiet dream.

Christmas season.

The entire city felt alive—bright, bustling, warm.

A place filled with joy.

"Haaah..." I exhaled, breath puffing white in the cold. "Should I... take a taxi?"

I stopped at the curb, watching taxis roll by—bright ters flashing, comfortable-looking seats waiting for anyone who had the money for warmth.

"I really shouldn’t," I mumbled, patting my pocket.

Coins. Loose change. Barely enough for a cheap al tomorrow. Definitely not enough for a taxi across the city.

So... I walked.

My boots crunched quietly against the thin snow layering the sidewalks. A couple passed holding hands, laughing softly. A group of friends took photos near a giant light-up reindeer. The air slled faintly of roasted chestnuts and cinnamon from a street vendor nearby.

Everything around was glowing.

But inside —nothing glowed.

Nothing sparkled.

Nothing celebrated.

I shoved my hands deeper in my pockets, head lowered as crowds moved around like I didn’t exist.

"...Christmas, huh."

It used to be my favorite season. Now it felt like the world was dressed in happiness I couldn’t reach anymore. A little girl ran past , giggling with a glowing wand, and I heard her voice echo:

"Our wish cos true!"

I crossed the street, through the glowing winter city—the signal turned red. People moved forward. And so did I—head down, lost in my thoughts—until—BUMP.

I jolted back a step. "Oh—I’m sorry! Are you—"

My voice died.

My breath died.

My world stopped.

Under the glowing arch of Christmas lights, under falling snowflakes that looked like drifting stars... He stood there.

Tall.Broad-shouldered.Black hair.Blue eyes.

Eyes I had morized in another world. Eyes that had looked at like I was his entire sky.

My lips parted in disbelief.

"...Alvar?"

The man blinked, confused. His winter coat rustled as he tilted his head—exactly the way Alvar used to when puzzled. But his voice, when he spoke, was calm, polite, and unmistakably Japanese-accented.

"It’s alright," he said, stepping aside.

And he walked past .

Walked away.

Just like that.

Leaving standing there in the middle of the crosswalk as people brushed past, cars honked, and Christmas lights glittered overhead.

But I couldn’t move.

Couldn’t breathe.

Because my heart—my stupid, aching heart—was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.

It’s him.It’s him.It’s him.

He didn’t need the sa face. He didn’t need the sa voice. He didn’t need the sa na.

My soul recognized him.

That was my husband.

That was Alvar.

My breath broke—and suddenly, I was running.

Shoving through crowds, slipping on slush, bumping into shoulders—"Sorry—! Move—excuse —!"

My lungs burned as I sprinted down the sidewalk. "Huff—hah—Alvar—!"

People stared.

But I didn’t care.

I would lose him again if I stopped. I would lose him forever. I turned a corner—and there he was.

Standing under a canopy of golden lights, phone pressed to his ear, speaking calmly with a tone I had never heard but a silhouette I would know anywhere.

My knees nearly gave out.

"I found you..." I whispered, smiling through tears. "You’re really here..."

I took a shaky breath—and I ran.

My boots skidded on snow as I threw myself toward him. Before he could turn, before doubt could stop , I grabbed his hand—warm. Solid. Real.

"Alvar..."

He turned his head—blue eyes widening in surprise.

"...excuse—?"

But I didn’t let go. I couldn’t. Tears spilled over helplessly as I wrapped my arms around him, burying my face against his chest, breathing in a scent I’d never slled here but my soul recognized instantly.

"You made it..." I hiccuped, voice cracking beyond repair. "You really followed here..."

My fingers clutched his coat, desperate, trembling. "I knew you wouldn’t leave ... I knew you wouldn’t..."

For a mont—just a mont—he stood still.

As if sothing inside him paused. As if sothing tugged. As if so invisible thread between our souls trembled—but then—he gently placed his hands on my shoulders. And pushed back.

Not harshly.

Not coldly.

But with the careful distance of a stranger.

"I’m... sorry," he said softly. "But you mistook for soone else."

The snow fell harder. The lights blurred into halos of gold and white. My breath curled into the winter air—thin, broken, shivering.

The man looked at for a mont longer... those blue eyes flickering with sothing I couldn’t na.

Pity?Confusion?Recognition?

No... that last one was my wishful thinking. He gave a small, gentle smile. A stranger’s smile.

"...Take care," he said quietly.

And then—He turned.

And walked away.

His footsteps faded into the swirl of Christmas music, laughter, and snowfall—becoming just another figure disappearing down a bright winter street.

My hands hung uselessly at my sides, still tingling with the warmth of his sleeve. My heart throbbed—slow, heavy, aching.

"That’s right..." I whispered to myself, voice trembling. "Why... why did I assu he was my Alvar?"

The snow muffled the world, softening everything but the pain in my chest.

"He’s just a stranger. A normal man. Soone living his own life."

And yet—And yet the ache didn’t fade. Because deep inside —past the loneliness, past the grief, past the hollow space carved out by destiny—

It still felt like him.

As if my heart, not my eyes, recognized him.

As if sothing in my soul whispered:

That’s him. He’s here. He found you.

I shut my eyes, letting the snow settle on my lashes, lting into silent tears and mumbled, "I miss you."