Wrong Script, Right Love Chapter 174: The Truth

[Renji’s POV—Kurosawa Group Headquarters—Afternoon]

I stepped back first.

Not abruptly. Not enough to draw attention. Just a half-step—polite, professional, and controlled.

Enough to break the mont.

"Sir," I said softly, lowering my gaze, "you should attend the Astraeon eting. They’ll be waiting."

The silence between us thickened.

Hayato didn’t move.

Didn’t lower his hand right away.

For a second longer than necessary, his fingers hovered where my tears had been—then slowly dropped back to his side.

"...Alright," he said.

His voice was steady.

Too steady.

I turned and walked ahead, tablet clasped tightly against my chest. Each step felt heavier than the last, but I didn’t slow down.

I couldn’t. Because if I stayed—if I let him keep looking at like that—I would break. The eting room buzzed with low conversation as Astraeon’s representatives took their seats. Polished smiles. Crisp suits. Carefully chosen words.

Business as usual.

I stood beside Hayato’s chair, posture straight, expression neutral—exactly as I was supposed to be.

"Shall we begin?" he said calmly.

The eting proceeded smoothly. Negotiations, projections, tilines.

I did my job flawlessly.

And still—

"Renji."

The way he said my na—low, deliberate—pulled my attention back instantly.

"Yes, sir?"

"Pull up the comparative analysis," he said. Then, quieter, "The second file."

I did.

But my chest tightened. He hadn’t needed to specify that file before. He glanced at the screen, then at . Just briefly. Like he was checking whether I was still there.

I looked away first.

I wanted to tell him that he was my Alvar. That he was my husband.

I wanted to tell him that what he was feeling wasn’t wrong. That it wasn’t imagination or confusion or misplaced emotion. That we were tied to each other long before this life—long before nas and titles and worlds.

That we had loved each other in another dinsion.

Fallen in love.Married.

I wanted to tell him everything. But would he believe ?

Or would it only frighten him—force mories back before he was ready, shatter the man he was becoming in this life?

So I stayed silent.

Because loving him ant choosing his safety over my truth. And if that ant carrying the weight of our past alone a little longer—Then I would.

***

[Kurosawa Group Headquarters—CEO Office]

After the eting, I gathered the docunts quickly.

"Renji."

"Yes, sir."

"See in my office," he said. "Now."

My throat tightened.

He didn’t wait for a response. The door closed behind us with a quiet, final click. The room felt too small all of a sudden.

I turned toward the desk—anything to avoid his gaze—but before I could take a second step—

His hand caught my wrist.

Firm.

Not rough. Not hesitant.

Certain.

"Sir—"

He pulled back and kissed .

Not gently.

Not carefully.

Like a man who had finally stopped running from sothing already carved into his bones. For a split second, my body froze in pure shock.

Then instinct kicked in.

I shoved him back, breath shaking. "Hayato—! You can’t—"

Our eyes locked.

Close.

Too close.

His chest rose and fell once. Twice.

Then he stepped forward again—slower this ti—and wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling against him like he already knew I would stop resisting.

"I don’t know why," he said, voice low, raw, and unraveling. "Why do I keep having those blurry dreams?"

My hands trembled where they pressed against his chest.

"Soone calls by a na I don’t rember," he continued, eyes never leaving mine."A na that feels like it belongs to ."

My vision blurred.

"But one thing," he whispered, forehead resting against mine, breath warm, steady, real,"one thing I’m sure of now—"

His grip tightened, not possessive, not demanding.

Protective.

"You’re tied to , Renji."

Tears slipped free.

"The na... Alvar," he said slowly. "The one you called the first day we t. The one I hear in my dreams."

His thumb brushed my jaw, wiping away a tear without hesitation.

"They’re not coincidences."

My chest caved in.

"I may not know how," he went on, voice breaking just slightly, "or why... or what we were."

He leaned in again.

"But I know this." His lips brushed mine—gentler this ti. "I won’t let you leave my side."

This ti, when he kissed , I didn’t push him away.

I broke.

Tears soaked into the fabric of his shirt as I clutched him, breath hitching, heart shattering and nding all at once.

His lips t mine again and again.

Slower this ti.Deeper.

Like he was learning by instinct rather than mory—testing, pressing, fitting himself to with a certainty that stole the strength from my knees.

"Hn—"

The sound slipped out of , broken and helpless.

He felt it imdiately.

His breath stuttered, a rough "huff" spilling between us as his hand tightened at my waist, pulling in closer—too close to think, too close to breathe properly.

The kiss deepened.

Not rushed.Not desperate.

Intent.

"Hng..." he let out softly against my mouth, like the sound was torn from his chest rather than spoken, breath hot and uneven as his forehead pressed briefly to mine.

My own breath ca apart.

"Huh—" I gasped, the sound shaking as emotion overwheld , tears blurring everything as I clutched his jacket, holding on like letting go would end us.

He kissed again.

Deeper.

"Huff..." his breath trembled against my lips, another low sound following as he pulled closer, grounding there with him, like he’d done it before—like his body rembered even if his mind didn’t.

My chest hitched, a soft, broken "hn..." escaping as I lted into him, tears soaking into his collar as he held steady, unmoving, unyielding.

Like he’d been doing it for lifetis.

And sowhere between sobs, fractured breaths, and those quiet, involuntary sounds, I realized the most dangerous truth of all—He didn’t rember .

He was choosing .

Again.

When we finally pulled apart, it was slow.

Reluctant.

Breathing hard.

"Huff..."

His breath broke the silence first—uneven, unsteady—like he was forcing himself back into control. His forehead rested against mine, chest rising and falling far too fast.

"Hn..."

I exhaled shakily, my hands still fisted in his jacket, terrified that if I loosened my grip even a little, everything we’d just shared would vanish.

For a long mont, neither of us spoke.

The room felt unbearably quiet—too aware of what we had done. Hayato’s thumb brushed over my knuckles, gentle now, grounding. Hesitant—where only monts ago he had been certain.

"...Renji," he murmured.

The way he said my na made my chest ache.

He lifted his hand, wiped the tears from my cheeks with surprising tenderness, then pressed a soft kiss to my closed eyelids.

"Can you..." His voice lowered. "Please tell who Alvar is."

My eyes flew open.

Tears welled again instantly. "You— you shouldn’t..."

Before I could finish, he kissed my lips once more—brief, reassuring, and not demanding.

"I’ll trust you," he said quietly. "I promise."

His forehead touched mine again.

"Tell ," he whispered. "Who is Alvar? And why does it feel like... like I’m sohow tied to you?"

My throat closed.

My hands clenched at my sides.

This was it. I had crossed the line already. Silence would only wound us further.

I took a breath that felt like it might break .

"...He’s my husband."

The words landed between us like shattered glass.

Hayato’s eyes widened. He stepped back imdiately—just one pace, but it felt like miles—like he suddenly rembered rules he was never ant to forget.

"Oh."

The sound was small. Careful.

I knew exactly what he was thinking.

That he had crossed a boundary. That he had kissed a married man. That whatever this was—it was wrong.

"So... you’re married?" he asked slowly. "But your profile says you’re single, and—"

He stopped himself.

Swallowed.

Then he asked the question I had been dreading.

"...Where is your husband?" he asked again, voice low and careful.

Then, hesitating, almost unwilling to finish the thought— "Did he... abandon you?"

I let out a broken scoff.

"Abandoned?" I repeated softly.

I shook my head, a faint, pained smile tugging at my lips. "That idiot would never dare to do that." My voice wavered despite myself. "He loves too much."

Hayato’s jaw tightened.

"He loves so much," I continued, words spilling now, "that he would cross dinsions for if he had to. Worlds. Ti. Anything." My chest ached as I spoke. "That’s how deeply he loves ."

His fists clenched at his sides.

"Then where is he?" he demanded, frustration bleeding through the restraint. "Why are you alone if he’s that great?"

The question cut deeper than anything else he’d said.

My chest tightened until it hurt to breathe.

I t his eyes.

And chose the truth—the one I had been protecting him from. The one that would shatter us or bind us forever.

"He’s standing right in front of ," I said quietly.

He stiffened.

"...What?"

Tears slipped free, blurring my vision as I smiled at him through them—soft, aching, unbearably tender.

"He’s trying to keep his distance from ," I whispered, "because he thinks he crossed a line that was never ant to exist for anyone else."

Silence fell between us—thick, stunned, absolute.

His breath caught.

"What are you saying?" he asked, barely audible.

I stepped closer this ti.

Didn’t reach for him.Didn’t touch.

Just looked at him—like I always had.

"You’re my Alvar," I said, voice breaking completely now. "My husband."

The words trembled in the air between us.

And for the first ti since he’d woken up in this world without —I wasn’t running from the truth anymore.

I was standing in it.