บททั้งหมดของ Rewinding My Reaper Boyfriend: บทที่ 161 - บทที่ 170

The radio in the corner of Apartment 4B was a relic from the 90s, a plastic box covered in dust and stickers. Elion had found it under the sink.It was their only connection to the world."...and in entertainment news, the hashtag #CaleionWedding continues to dominate global trends. Fans are camping out at the Centurion Estate, demanding to know if the couple is safe after the shocking collapse of the lighting rig..."Cale sat in the armchair, his eyes closed, his head tilted toward the speaker. He was a statue of concentration."Global trends," Cale murmured. "The reach is extensive. Saturation point achieved.""They think we're dead," Elion said. He was sitting on the floor, counting their remaining cash. "Or kidnapped. Again.""Ambiguity drives engagement," Cale said. "Mystery increases value.""We have sixty dollars, Cale. Our value is sixty dollars."Elion stacked the bills. Three twenties. A handful of quarters."We need food," Elion said. "We need painkillers. And we need to pa

The alarm on Elion’s phone vibrated against the floorboards. 6:00 AM.Elion opened his eyes. The apartment was grey, cold, and still.He looked at Cale.Cale was already awake. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed in the navy suit trousers and white shirt. His cast was wrapped in a black trash bag he had taped secure with duct tape. He was staring at his shoes."You're up early," Elion whispered, his voice rusty."I required time for assembly," Cale said. "Buttons are... time-consuming without tactile feedback.""You did them yourself?""I used a mirror. Visual confirmation of alignment."Elion sat up. He looked at Cale’s shirt. The buttons were misaligned by one. The collar was crooked.It broke his heart."Come here," Elion said softly."I failed," Cale noted, looking at Elion’s gaze on his shirt."You tried. That's what matters. But let me fix it. We're going on camera."Elion knelt in front of him. He re-buttoned the shirt. He fixed the collar. He tied the tie."Be

The taxi rattled over the potholes of Queens, every bump sending a fresh shockwave of agony through the backseat.Elion watched Cale.Cale was sitting upright, his spine rigid against the leather seat. His hands were clenched in his lap, gripping the fabric of his trousers so hard the seams were straining. Sweat was pouring down his face, washing away the road dust from the intersection, leaving tracks of pale skin in the grime."You're vibrating," Elion whispered, placing a hand on Cale’s arm."The suspension on this vehicle is... suboptimal," Cale said through gritted teeth. "The vibration frequency matches the resonance of my fracture.""It's not the car, Cale. It's you. You're going into shock.""I am processing. Pain is data.""Pain is pain. And you're hitting your limit."Elion looked out the window. They were passing through a quiet neighborhood of old brownstones and trees. Up ahead, the spire of a small stone church poked through the canopy of leaves."Driver," Elion called o

The garden was waiting.It was the same garden where the arch had fallen, where the lighting rig had crashed, where Elion had almost died a dozen times. But today, the debris was cleared. The white runner was freshly laid. The guests—a mixture of curious production crew, the remaining contestants, and the press—sat in hushed anticipation.The sun was high and bright, bleaching the colors of the flowers until everything looked overexposed.Elion stood at the edge of the patio. He adjusted Cale’s tie one last time."You okay?" Elion asked.Cale stood tall. He was leaning on his crutches, but his posture had changed. In the crypt, something had shifted. He wasn't just a broken man holding himself up; he was a pillar."I am solid," Cale said. His voice was rough, but the hesitation was gone. "The data... it has settled.""Because you know your name?""Because I know my function," Cale corrected. "Atlas does not buckle. Atlas holds.""You don't have to hold the sky today, Cale. Just my han

The smell of coffee filled the farmhouse kitchen, rich and earthy, masking the scent of dust that had settled over the years.Elion stood by the old gas stove, watching the percolator bubble. He was wearing his own clothes again—jeans and a t-shirt he had found in a dresser drawer, left behind by Alex three years ago. They smelled of lavender sachets and memory."It is ready," Cale said from the table.Elion turned. Cale was sitting in a wooden chair, his broken leg propped up on a second chair. He was wearing a flannel shirt that was too big for him, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looked less like a Reaper and more like a farmer who had lost his farm."You can smell it?" Elion asked, pouring two mugs."I can smell the heat," Cale said. "And the beans. It is a sharp scent. Acrid but... pleasant."Elion placed a mug in front of him. "Two sugars. Oat milk. I found a carton of shelf-stable milk in the pantry. It might be expired, but it smells okay."Cale peered into the mug. "The c