The city was quiet in the early morning, but sleep had long abandoned me. My apartment felt too small, too empty. Last night—the push, the slap, her walking away—replayed in my mind like a relentless storm.
I sat on the edge of the couch, shirt rumpled, hands running through my hair. Coffee untouched on the table. "She's mine," I whispered, almost violently, as if saying it enough would make it true. "She can't just… ignore me. She won't."
Every thought of her sent my pulse spiking. Her sharp glare, the defiance in her stance, the way she had pushed me away—it was maddening. I wanted her to look at me the way I looked at her. I wanted her to feel what I felt. But she wouldn't. She refused.
I paced the room, muttering to myself, tossing my jacket onto the floor. "Obsessed. That's what I am. Mad, obsessed… and she knows it. She feels it. She will feel it."
Outside her condo, I imagined her moving through her morning routine—coffee in hand, arms crossed, eyes fiery. Untouchable. Perfectly untouchable. And it drove me insane.
Meanwhile, Jay was already awake. She wasn't going to let him corner her again, not yesterday, not ever. She walked to the balcony, letting the sunlight warm her skin, trying to shake off the memory of his wild obsession. His desperate eyes, the trembling in his hands, the sheer madness… she could feel it just by remembering.
And yet, she couldn't deny a flicker of something—something she refused to name—burning in her chest whenever she thought of him.
Later that morning, our paths almost collided in the lobby.
I tried to look casual, but my heart betrayed me. She saw me. Her eyes narrowed. She raised an eyebrow, sharp and untouchable.
"Keifer," she said, voice steady, controlled. "Do not follow me. Go back to your apartment."
I smirked, leaning slightly against the wall. "I'm not following… I just happen to be here."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Sure you aren't. Don't even think about it."
The tension between us crackled like electricity. I wanted to close the distance, to tease her, to see her falter—but I didn't. Not yet. I let her pass, my obsession screaming in silence.
Back in my apartment, I sat on the balcony, staring at the city, heart hammering. Every glance she had thrown me this morning, every word, every near encounter—it was enough to drive me mad.
And I knew it.
I would chase her, tease her, haunt her thoughts, but I couldn't rush her. Not yet. Not while she stayed untouchable, sharp, untamed.
And that… that made every heartbeat, every thought, every obsession worth it.