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Yours or His

Penulis: Damilare
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2025-06-02 23:21:29

She wore black that night.

A simple dress. Sleeveless. Elegant. Devastating.

She was heading out with Grayson. Dinner at a quiet bistro on the edge of town.

“He wants closure,” she had said earlier.

“Closure doesn’t wear heels and perfume.”

She didn’t argue.

She just stared at herself in the mirror, fixing her earrings, her face unreadable. But I saw the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, the war in her silence. That part of her wanted to go. That part of her still answered when his voice called.

And it made me insane.

After she left, I couldn’t sit still.

The house was too quiet. The furniture too still. Her scent still lingered on the sheets in the guest room, lavender and vanilla and sin.

I lay on the bed where she’d last kissed me, my shirt still wrinkled from when she’d tugged it off, my mouth still warm from her breath. I imagined her across a table, laughing softly at something Grayson said, sipping wine while his hand brushed too close to hers.

I imagined him touching her wri
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  • My Bestie’s Mom, My Obsession   The Room That Shouldn’t Exist

    The receipt sat like a bomb on Ethan’s screen.Whitlock’s name.A check-in timestamp from two months ago.A small boutique hotel just outside town.And, beneath it, in black ink:Cassandra Rowen’s signature.Not forged.Not blurred.Clear. Smooth. Familiar.His breath caught. His chest tightened.He wanted to delete it. Pretend it hadn’t appeared. Pretend it wasn’t possible.But questions were already clawing at him.Why would she have signed anything under Whitlock’s name?Why hadn’t she mentioned it?Was this leverage?A setup?Or something she’d never planned to tell him?He didn’t sleep that night.Cassandra did.Peacefully, beside him.As if the world outside hadn’t shifted.As if she wasn’t carrying a truth she hadn’t shared.As if trust wasn’t a thread he could feel fraying with every breath.Morning came quietly.Jason was already up, pacing the kitchen with a cup of coffee and his laptop open. Delilah was on the couch, scrolling through survivor forums, looking for another gi

  • My Bestie’s Mom, My Obsession   Someone Inside

    The image on Ethan’s phone wouldn’t stop burning.It was grainy, taken through a crack in the blinds, but unmistakable: his back, bare, curled around Cassandra’s sleeping body. The glow of a candle on the nightstand. The timestamp from only hours earlier.He hadn’t even known someone was outside the house.Now, he knew someone was watching.By morning, the sheriff’s office had been alerted.A patrol car parked discreetly down the block. A plainclothes officer stationed in the house across the street, with binoculars and a long lens.It wasn’t comfort.It was confirmation.They weren’t safe anymore.Not even in their own home.Cassandra stood in the doorway of the living room, arms crossed over her chest, eyes hollow.“I should’ve ended this months ago,” she whispered. “Before anyone else got hurt.”“You are ending it,” Ethan replied. “You’re telling the truth. You’re holding him accountable.”She looked at him, really looked.“I didn’t want you dragged into the fire.”He stepped close

  • My Bestie’s Mom, My Obsession   Scars in the Spotlight

    It was Cassandra’s idea to go live.Not pre-recorded.Not edited.Live.No cuts. No filters. No room for anyone to say she rehearsed or doctored the truth.The setup was simple. Just a chair, a dark background, and a single soft light brushing across her cheekbones like dusk.Jason handled the tech. Delilah helped frame the story. I stood just behind the camera, hands clenched, watching her shoulders rise and fall with nerves she tried not to show.“I don’t want them to see me polished,” she said.“You look real,” I told her.She looked at me for a long time.Then she nodded.“Start it.”She opened with silence.For twenty seconds, she said nothing.Just looked into the lens, hands folded in her lap.Then: “You already know my name. You think you know the story. You’ve seen the photos. The footage. You’ve read the headlines.”Another pause.“But you haven’t heard the truth.”She spoke for twelve minutes.About Malcolm Whitlock. About the archive. About the girls. About Leah Cartwright

  • My Bestie’s Mom, My Obsession   The Vault

    The meeting with Eli Grant was set for midnight.A park on the east side of town. Public enough to be safe. Empty enough to feel dangerous.Jason drove.Delilah sat in the back seat, arms crossed, hoodie pulled up.I sat beside Cassandra in the front, our hands linked on the center console.None of us spoke until we reached the park entrance.The only light came from a flickering lamp post and a low crescent moon.Eli stood beneath the trees.He looked different than the photos, gaunter, eyes sunken, lips tight. He clutched a backpack like it held the last piece of his soul.“Thanks for coming,” he said, his voice low but steady.Delilah stepped forward first.“You said you had proof. Of all of it.”Eli nodded. “I’ve got a full backup of Whitlock’s private vault. Every message. Every photo. Every signed NDA. Even stuff I wasn’t supposed to see.”He handed over a flash drive.Jason took it carefully.“Why now?” Cassandra asked.Eli’s jaw clenched.“Because one of those girls was my sis

  • My Bestie’s Mom, My Obsession   The Thread That Snaps

    The image haunted everything.It lived in the glow of our phones. In the headline banners. In every whisper of “Did you see what they posted?” at the grocery store, the gas station, the town square.They’d leaked Leah Cartwright’s body.Her final moment, twisted into something obscene.They turned her death into a weapon, and now it was pointed at Cassandra.She couldn’t sleep that night.I found her in the den, curled in the corner of the couch, still wearing the clothes from earlier, her knees drawn to her chest, a mug of tea untouched beside her.When I entered, she didn’t move.Her eyes were fixed on the dark window.“I dreamed about her,” she said, her voice thin. “Leah. She was laughing. And then her mouth just... stopped working. Like she was trying to scream and no sound came out.”I sat beside her, gently. Close, but not touching yet.“I used to think survival was the win,” she whispered. “But now I think survival is just... another kind of sentence.”I reached for her hand.

  • My Bestie’s Mom, My Obsession   The Ones Who Don't Survive

    The black car was back.Second morning in a row.Same spot, across the street, behind a parked truck. Tinted windows, no license plate, engine off. Silent as judgment.Jason was the one who spotted it this time.He stood on the porch with a cup of coffee gone cold in his hand, staring like he was trying to see through the windshield.“She’s being watched,” he said.I joined him.“She’s been watched for years,” I replied. “This is just the first time we’re seeing it.”Jason didn’t blink. “What if they’re not just watching?”Cassandra was quieter than usual that morning.She sat in the den reading comments on her interview post, a blanket pulled around her shoulders even though it was already seventy-five degrees outside.Her phone chimed every five seconds.Messages. Alerts. Interviews. Invitations.And threats.“They said they’d sue me for defamation,” she murmured. “Me. After everything he did, I’m still the one who has to prove I didn’t ask for it.”I sat beside her and took the pho

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