(Keifer's POV)
The first thing I felt when I woke up was the ache in my chest. Not hunger. Not a headache. Not the sun burning through the curtains. It was her—the ghost of her presence that had somehow invaded every corner of my apartment.
I tried to tell myself it was just a memory, that I had to move on, that she had chosen her path and I had to respect it. But the moment I opened my eyes and saw the sunlight creeping over the city skyline, the image of her on the rooftop last night flashed behind my eyelids. Her laugh, the way she had pushed me away, the way she had walked back into her condo like nothing had happened…
I groaned and sat up. My heart was still racing, my hands trembling slightly as I gripped the edge of the bed. I had to see her again. I needed to.
The thought made me both furious and desperate. Eight years. Eight long years of her absence, and now that she was here, I couldn't just… let her slip away again.
I paced my apartment. Fast. Then slower. Then faster again. I muttered under my breath, throwing pillows across the room. I poured myself a glass of water and spilled half of it on the counter. None of it mattered. Nothing mattered except her.
I ran my hands through my hair, tugged at it in frustration, and then froze. My eyes drifted across the courtyard. Across from me, I could see her balcony. Her hair glinted in the morning sun. She was reading documents, sipping her coffee, the very picture of calm authority. My chest tightened.
She hadn't even noticed me yet. Or maybe she had, and she was ignoring me. That made the ache in my chest worse.
I muttered to myself, pacing again. "She's mine. She's mine, and she doesn't even know it. She can't… she won't… resist me forever."
I tried to calm myself by looking away, pacing to the window in another direction, trying not to stare. But my eyes kept snapping back to her. Every movement she made was etched into my mind—the tilt of her head, the casual way she adjusted her coffee cup, the faint smirk that seemed to tease me from across the courtyard.
How can someone be so untouchable… and yet drive me so insane?
By mid-morning, I had settled onto the floor of my balcony, elbows on my knees, chin resting in my hands. I couldn't stop thinking about her. Every scenario played in my head. I imagined walking across the courtyard and just grabbing her hand. I imagined leaning close, whispering in her ear, feeling her body stiffen under mine. I imagined her pushing me away, her voice sharp, and yet… I couldn't stop.
I knew I was spiraling. I knew it was reckless. But every time I thought about stepping back, she was already in my mind again, laughing, teasing, untouchable, perfect.
She's driving me crazy.
Suddenly, I noticed a flicker in her movement. She glanced up, catching me staring—though I wasn't sure if she had seen me properly or just assumed I was somewhere in the shadows of my condo. She raised an eyebrow, and for the briefest moment, her lips curved into a smirk. That smirk.
I clenched my fists. She knows.
I couldn't even tell if it was annoyance or amusement in her gaze. But it set fire to something inside me, something dangerous. Something obsessive.
I muttered again, almost angrily: "She doesn't get to have that power over me. She cannot walk away again. Not now. Not ever."
I didn't hear the light footsteps approaching until a shadow fell across my balcony. Lucas. As always, silent, calculating, arms crossed.
"You're going to fall off the edge one of these days," he said quietly, his voice calm but sharp. "And I won't be able to stop you in time."
I glanced at him, chest heaving, hands trembling slightly. "I'm fine," I lied. "Just… thinking."
Lucas didn't respond. He didn't need to. I knew he was judging every movement, every twitch of obsession in me. And I knew he wasn't going to let me make a stupid mistake—not yet. Not until I had a better handle on myself.
"I'm not going to hurt her," I whispered, though the words barely convinced me. "I just… I need her to see. She'll have to see."
Lucas's gaze softened just slightly. "Obsessed doesn't always mean love, Keifer," he said quietly. "Don't lose yourself."
I swallowed hard, watching Jay across the courtyard again. My chest tightened so much it hurt.
I don't care if it's obsession or love. She's mine. And she'll see it.
By noon, Jay had moved inside. Her balcony was empty, the documents gone. And I felt… empty. The fire in my chest didn't fade—it burned brighter. I couldn't stop thinking about her. Every small detail replayed in my mind: the tilt of her head, the smirk, the way she had casually ignored me, the way she had pushed me away.
I ran a hand through my hair, pacing again. My apartment felt suffocating. I needed… something. A plan. A way to reach her without breaking her walls entirely.
Then I noticed something—a tiny glimmer of amusement in the way she had looked at me earlier. That spark. That tiny spark of recognition that she knew I was desperate, that she knew I was obsessed, that she felt the tension too.
My heart raced. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't focus. I couldn't… do anything except think about her.
I'll get closer tomorrow. Somehow. She won't resist me forever.
Even as the afternoon sun streamed into my apartment, I didn't move from the floor. I stared at her balcony. I imagined the moment I could finally cross the distance, step into her space, touch her hand—anything.
And I knew one thing: this obsession wasn't going away. It was only going to grow.
Because she was untouchable. She was sharp. And she was mine.