LOGINFor years, i have been hopelessly in love with my uncle, who has always been a comforting figure in her life. I know it's not right. Trust me, i do. But my love is not a simple, innocent affection—it’s a dark, consuming obsession. My feelings for him have been building up for years. Distance can never be a barrier to my feelings for my uncle. When i got accepted into college in my city, I seized the chance to move in with him, determined to be close to the man I love. Living under his roof, my feelings grew deeper, and my desperation became more dangerous. “He doesn’t see me. Not like I want him to. But damn it, I can’t stop wanting him.” "I’d burn my whole world down if it meant he’d notice me for one second.” There’s just one problem: My uncle is engaged to another woman. “She doesn’t even know him the way I do. How could she be his wife? I’ve known him my whole life." "No one can ever take him away from me. I have always been HIS, and I will surely make him MINE. "MY UNCLE IS MINE"
View MoreAuthor’s Note:
This story does not contain incest. The relationship between the male lead and female lead may appear close due to the "uncle" title, but there is no blood relation between them. The use of "uncle" is symbolic, based on long-standing family friendship. This story focuses on emotional tension, slow-burn romance, and forbidden love—but not between blood relatives. so let's begin (Lara's pov) “Lara, listen to me,” my mom’s voice was gentle but firm as she stood by the door. “You need to promise me something.” I turned to look at her, a puzzled frown on my face. “What is it, Mom?” “Promise me you won't give your uncle a tough time,” she said, her eyes softening. “He’s been kind enough to let you stay with him now that you’ve transferred to his city. It’s a big change, and he’s doing this for you because he cares.” I sighed, trying to brush off the conversation. “I know, Mom. I’ll be fine.” She stepped forward, cupping my face in her hands. “I mean it, Lara. Be patient with him, okay?” “Okay, okay,” I nodded, giving her a small smile. “I promise.” She looked relieved, a smile touching her lips. “Good. Now, you should get some sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.” I nodded, watching as she gave me one last look before leaving my room, closing the door behind her. I sat down on the edge of my bed, staring at my packed bags. It was really happening. I was finally going to be in his city—finally going to be with him. I laid down and pulled open my bedside drawer. From it, I took out an old, slightly worn photograph. It was a picture of me at ten years old, smiling brightly, and beside me was Aiden, twenty-six at that time. I traced my fingers over his face. He looked so young, yet even then, I had admired him so much. My heart swelled with emotions as I stared at the photo. “I’m coming to you, Uncle Aiden,” I whispered to the picture. I pressed the photograph against my chest, feeling its edges dig into my skin slightly. It was comforting, like he was right here with me. Soon, it wouldn’t just be this picture. I’d see him every day. With that thought, I let my eyes close, a smile resting on my lips as I drifted into sleep. Tomorrow would change everything. ----- As I settled into my seat on the plane, I let out a deep breath. The city I was leaving behind felt like a distant memory already. All I could think of was what lay ahead. I glanced out the window, watching as the ground slowly disappeared beneath the clouds. My heart pounded with excitement and nervousness. I hadn’t seen him in so long, and now, I’d be living with him. "What would it be like? How had he changed?" I closed my eyes, imagining him waiting for me at the airport, the way I’d pictured it countless times. I could almost feel his arms wrapping around me in a comforting hug, the reassurance that he was really there. The plane landed with a slight jolt, waking me from the light sleep I had drifted into. I blinked, adjusting my eyes to the sudden flurry of activity as passengers gathered their belongings. My fingers reached for my phone, and I turned it on as soon as I could. My heart raced as I scanned for any messages. Something from my Uncle. "Nothing?" I sighed. I shook my head, trying to ignore the slight sting of disappointment. He must be waiting at the airport. He probably just didn’t have time to send me a text, right? I quickly made my way out of the plane and into the arrival terminal. I walked out of the terminal into the cool evening air. The city buzzed with life around me, but all I could think about was him, my uncle, My Aiden. I wondered how he looked now. It had been so long since I’d last seen him, and the memories of his smile, his sharp eyes, and the way his hair fell over his forehead all flooded back to me. Had he changed much? Would he still recognize me the same way I would recognize him? My heart fluttered slightly at the thought of seeing him again, and I found myself smiling just a little. He had always made me feel safe, and all I wanted was to see his face waiting for me among the crowd. I glanced around, expecting to see him. My eyes moved eagerly from face to face until they finally stopped. My gaze fell on a young man in a black suit with brown hair, standing near a car with a polite smile on his face. My heart sank instantly. "Really? He sent someone else to pick me up?" Disappointment hit me hard. I didn’t want a driver. I wanted him. He was supposed to be here, to greet me, to take me home. I clenched my jaw, walking straight past the driver without acknowledging him. I wasn’t going to let someone else pick me up like some errand. Without hesitation, I hailed a taxi and gave the driver the address of a nearby hotel. If Uncle Aiden thought sending a driver was enough, he was dead wrong. I’d wait for him—on my terms. By the time I reached the hotel, the exhaustion from the long flight weighed heavily on me. I checked in and collapsed onto the bed, letting out a deep sigh. The soft mattress eased the tension in my body, but my mind was still racing. I grabbed my phone, scrolling through the messages that had come in. One from him finally popped up. "Princess, have you landed safely? I sent my driver to pick you up. We’ll meet at home later." I rolled my eyes and tossed the phone down. "Later? No." I wasn’t some afterthought. He was supposed to come himself, to make me feel like I was his priority, to make me feel safe and above all to make me feel loved by him. Instead, I was sitting here alone in a hotel room, waiting for him to figure it out. As the hours passed by, the city outside my window grew darker. The lights flickered, and the night thickened. Yet, still no sign of him. No more messages, no missed calls. "Why the hell isn't he calling nor texting?" "Does he not care about me?"Elena’s POV The next morning came faster than I expected. I barely slept — my head kept replaying every single thing he’d said. “Do it wrong. But do it honestly.” What kind of man even says things like that? By 6:50 a.m., I was already in the hall again. No one else was there. Just the faint hum of the AC and the sound of my own heartbeat. At 7:00, he walked in. Black again. Same sleeves rolled. Clipboard tucked under his arm. His eyes flicked over me once. “You’re early. Again.” “You said not to be late.” He nodded slightly. “Good. Let’s see if yesterday was luck or progress.” I smirked. “You really don’t know how to compliment people, do you?” “I’m not paid to.” “Well, you could try being human for once,” I muttered under my breath. He heard it. Of course he did. “Humans get attached,” he said. “Judges don’t.” That stung more than it should’ve. I straightened and said, “Then stop looking at me like one.” His eyes met mine — sharp, unreadable. “Walk.”
Elena’s POV Later that afternoon, I barely touched my lunch. My mind was still stuck on him — Mr. Lex — and that cold, unreadable face he always wore. Everyone else from the show group chat was buzzing about how exciting the night had been. “Can’t believe we actually made it!” “Judges were so tough!” “Lex looked so fine!” Yeah. Fine. And terrifying. By noon, I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to talk to him. To say something. To prove that I wasn’t just another contestant who’d fade away after few show. So, I showed up at the rehearsal hall. He was there — of course — standing in front of a small group of models, giving sharp, clipped directions. “Posture. Shoulders back. Don’t walk like the floor owes you something.” His voice carried authority. Everyone obeyed instantly. When he finally turned and saw me, his brows drew together. “You again.” I swallowed. “Good evening, sir.” “Is there a reason you’re here?” “I wanted to talk,” I said quickly. “This isn’t
Elena’s POV Backstage was chaos — laughter, applause for other contestants, whispers about my performance. But I barely heard any of it. My ears were ringing with Mr. Lex’s words. “Lacked precision… I expected more.” It echoed in my head like a verdict. Not just a critique, but something heavier. Something that felt like a warning. I walked past contestants congratulating themselves, forcing a smile, but my hands were trembling. Every step felt heavier. My brush box felt heavier too. The dressing room was quiet when I slipped inside. I locked the door behind me and dropped onto the edge of the bed. My painting lay folded at the corner, unfinished. My chest was tight. I thought of Mr. Lex. That sharp look in his eyes when he spoke. Not a hint of pity. Only judgment. "Why the fuck is it soo hard to impress him." I whispered to myself. And suddenly, it hit me — what if that judgment wasn’t just about the painting? What if it was about my place in this competition? "No,
Elena’s POV “Go get my hat!” one of the contestants barked at her stylist. The poor girl scrambled, nearly tripping over a makeup bag. The room was chaos. Contestants chattered about how the crowd clapped for them, some bragging, some faking humility. One girl was still humming from her singing performance, another was juggling apples to show off. I sat in front of the mirror, staring at my own reflection. My palms were sweaty. What am I even doing here? “Hey, Elena.” A girl in sequins leaned over. “What’s your talent again?” I forced a smile. “Painting.” Her brows shot up. “Painting? On stage? In front of everyone?” “Yes.” My voice cracked. She smirked, clearly amused. “Well… good luck with that.” She turned back to her group, whispering loud enough for me to hear. Laughter followed. I gripped the edge of my chair, fighting the heat rising to my face. “You’ll be fine,” another contestant, softer in tone, said from the corner. She was strapping on her dancing sho






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