Wrong Script, Right Love Chapter 170: The Wedding Rings

[Hayato’s POV—Bedroom—Midnight]

"...Alvar. Let’s get married."

The words echoed—soft, careless, devastating.

I opened my eyes.

The ceiling above was unfamiliar. Smooth. Expensive. Too clean. The kind of ceiling that belonged to a life I knew was mine, yet never truly felt like ho.

"...Again," I murmured, staring upward. "The sa dream."

I exhaled slowly and sat up, running a hand through my hair. My chest felt tight—not painful, but heavy, as if sothing was lodged there, refusing to dissolve.

I swung my legs over the bed and walked to the table by the window, pouring myself a glass of water. The city lights below glittered indifferently, unaware of the chaos playing out inside my head.

I drank.

Once.

Twice.

The coolness grounded —but only slightly.

"Are delusional dreams a side effect of head trauma?" I muttered to no one.

I’d asked the doctors already. They’d given clean, clinical answers. Stress. mory reconstruction. Neural misfiring. Common phenona.

None of those explanations fit. Because this didn’t feel like sothing my brain created.

It felt like sothing I had lived.

"No," I said quietly, setting the glass down with more force than necessary. "This isn’t delusion."

In the dream, I wasn’t watching from the outside.

I was there.

I could feel the weight of his body leaning too close. The warmth of his voice—casual, teasing, too sincere to be a joke.

A lazy proposal. Spoken like a truth he didn’t doubt for a second.

"...Alvar," I whispered.

The na curled strangely around my tongue. The sa na Renji had sobbed into my coat that night. The sa na that tightened sothing deep in my chest every ti it surfaced.

Coincidence didn’t feel this deliberate.

I pressed my fingers to my temple and closed my eyes.

"Sigh... I need to relax."

But rest was impossible.

The silence of the room felt oppressive. Too loud. Too empty. My thoughts circled endlessly, like sothing searching for a place to land.

Without thinking, I picked up my phone. Tapped a familiar number.

The call connected almost imdiately.

"Yes," I said flatly. "It’s . Let’s et."

There was a beat of silence on the other end.

Then—

"WHAT?! It’s MIDNIGHT, you idiot!"

I didn’t even flinch. I was used to this voice. Used to the volu. Used to the insults wrapped in concern.

"Ten minutes," I said calmly. "Sa place."

"Hayato, you bas—"

I ended the call.

Set the phone down. Pulled on my jacket. As I stepped toward the door, one thought lingered—quiet but insistent.

If this dream keeps returning... If that na refuses to leave ... If Renji’s presence keeps pulling sothing loose inside my chest, then this isn’t madness.

It’s mory.

And I intend to find out whose life I’ve forgotten.

The door closed softly behind . And the night swallowed whole.

***

[Renji’s POV—The Sa Night—Balcony]

The moon hung lazily above the city, pale and indifferent, like it had better things to do than watch unravel.

I leaned against the balcony railing, letting the cold night air seep through my thin sweater, arms folded loosely as I stared up.

"He is very much Alvar..." I muttered.

Too much like him.

The posture. The silence. The way he watches instead of speaks. The way he protects without asking.

I sighed and tilted my head back, eyes fixed on the moon.

"...Grandma God," I called quietly.

No thunder. No holy light. Rude.

I clasped my hands together anyway, pressing my palms tightly like a prayer I wasn’t sure I was allowed to make.

"Is Hayato... Alvar?"

. . .

. . .

Of course. Silence.

I squinted at the sky.

"...Wow. Seriously? I never knew the Grandma God was this—this—" I sucked in a breath.

"—SHALESS."

The word echoed into the night, swallowed instantly by the wind.

I leaned forward, elbows on the railing, hands still clasped.

"I saved the damn world," I whispered furiously. "I locked the devil in a ring cage. I died. I suffered. I loved. And this is the custor service I get?"

Nothing.

Not even a breeze.

"Oh, don’t act innocent now," I snapped softly. "I know you’re listening."

My grip tightened.

"You bring into another world. You take him away from him. And now—now you dangle him right in front of my eyes like this?"

I laughed under my breath. A short, broken sound.

"...You’re really cruel, you know that?"

The city humd below—cars passing, distant laughter, life going on as if my heart wasn’t being torn apart molecule by molecule.

I closed my eyes.

Then—slowly—my voice changed.

The anger drained.

What replaced it was far worse.

"Give a sign," I whispered.

Any confidence I had crumbled. My shoulders sagged.

"Any... damn sign." I swallowed hard, fingers interlacing tighter.

"If he’s not my Alvar," I said quietly, "then don’t give anything."

I opened my eyes, staring at the moon again.

"Let move on." My throat burned. "Let stop hoping."

The night didn’t answer.

My hands trembled.

"But if he is..." My voice cracked despite my effort. "...if he really is my Alvar..."

I bowed my head slightly, forehead resting against my clasped hands.

"Then please," I whispered. "Please don’t be cruel again."

The humor was gone now.

No sarcasm. No anger.

Just a man standing alone under the sky, asking a god that never replied.

"I don’t need much," I murmured. "I don’t need explanations. I don’t need mories. I don’t want to go back to that world if he is here."

My breath shook.

"Just one sign." A tear slipped free, warm against cold skin. "One. Stupid. Obvious. Unmistakable sign."

I inhaled sharply.

"If he is my Alvar... I’ll forgive you," I said softly. "I won’t curse you. I won’t scream at the sky ever again."

My voice dropped to a whisper.

"...I beg you."

The word tasted bitter.

"I beg you, Grandma God."

The moon stayed silent. The stars didn’t move. And yet—sowhere deep in my chest, sothing ached so badly it felt like a promise trying to break through.

I stood there for a long ti.

Waiting.

Hoping.

Begging a cruel god who had never once answered before until she wanted it.

And then—

"OW..."

The sound was soft. Almost timid. I flinched and turned. Perched on the balcony railing was a cat.

A green-eyed cat.

It sat there calmly, tail wrapped around its paws, staring at as if it had been waiting its turn to speak. Those eyes—gentle, ancient, knowing—

My breath hitched.

"...Those eyes," I whispered. "They’re the sa."

The sa eyes that once smiled at from another world. The sa eyes that watched fate like a ga board.

"Grandma God...?" I breathed.

The cat tilted its head. For one heartbeat, the night held its breath with . Then the cat hopped down from the railing—

WHOOSH.

"Wait—"

Vanished like mist.

I rushed forward, gripping the railing, looking down into the darkness below. There was nothing. No movent. No sound. No cat.

Only silence. My chest tightened painfully.

"Was that... just my imagination?" I whispered.

And then—

SPARKLE!!! SHINE!!!!

A sharp glint of light flashed at the corner of my vision, and I turned my head toward the source.

Sothing was resting on the balcony railing.

Sothing small.

Sothing shining.

My breath stopped.

"No..." I whispered.

My vision blurred instantly as tears flooded my eyes, because there—lying side by side like they had never been separated—

They’re our marriage rings.

My hands began to shake violently as I reached for them. The tal was warm.

Real.

Heavy with mory.

"The... Trivium core stone rings..." I choked.

The stone embedded in them glimred faintly, the sa soft light that once bound our souls together across worlds. Tears slipped freely now, dripping onto my hands, onto the rings, and onto the railing.

"How..." My voice broke completely. "Our...wedding rings..."

My wedding rings.

The proof of our vows. The proof of our love. The proof that what I lost was never erased—only hidden.

My knees buckled, and I clutched the rings to my chest like a lifeline.

"He is..." I sobbed. "He is my Alvar."

My shoulders shook as the truth finally crushed down on with unbearable sweetness and pain.

"My husband..." I whispered. "He’s here. He really is here."

That night, I cried like hell.

Not quietly.

Not gracefully.

I cried until my chest hurt, until my throat burned, until every piece of grief I’d been holding back finally broke free. I trembled so hard I had to sit down on the cold balcony floor, clutching the rings with both hands like they might disappear again if I let go.

"I won’t curse you," I sobbed, laughing through tears. "I won’t— I won’t curse you, Grandma God..."

My forehead pressed against my knees.

"I forgive you," I whispered. "I forgive you... since you gave my husband back."

The night stayed silent. But this ti, it felt... kind. And that was the night—The exact mont—I made my decision.

I wiped my tears, pressing the rings to my heart one last ti.

"...I’ll let him fall in love with again," I whispered softly into the quiet air.

Slowly.

Gently.

No matter how long it takes.

Because this ti—I found him.

And I’m not letting him go again.