My step-Uncle

I was tied not only by the rope, but by the tension and pull too.

A whisper brushed my ear—“May I?” he asked. I nodded, and then—

Beep beep beep.

God. I cursed under my breath, turned to my side, and shut off the alarm.

Don’t know why the hell I always set it for this time, and why these memories always choose to come to me in my dreams only at this time.

After a good 10 minutes of cursing and trying to fall asleep again, just to dream about the same damn thing, I sighed and opened my eyes.

It’s not like I don’t dream about him on a daily basis—I do. My dreams are only occupied by him.

They say the one thing you think about the most throughout the day comes in your dreams, and I think in my case, it’s damn true.

He is my that thought. I’m obsessed with him. He is my dominant thought. I wasn’t aware I would get this affected by him—by the things that happened between us.

It’s only when I’m busy with something that I don’t think of him. But the moment I’m free, doing nothing, or alone... all I think about is him and the things he did to me in those 3 days of our deal.

I picked my phone from the night table and laid back again.Searched for the same damn site—and as always, no result.The site was gone. Just like him.

I even tried searching for similar results, thought maybe the site name had changed or something.But no.There was no site like that anywhere anymore.

I have no way to contact him.

We talked through the site’s chat system, and that disappeared with the site.

I wish I had some other way to reach him.

Mr. Stranger, do you miss me the way I miss you? I asked in my mind, referring to him.

Yeah—Mr. Stranger.

I don’t know his name. He didn’t know mine either.

There were no names exchanged, just fantasies.

Not even photos shared.

Funny, right?

I agreed to spend nights with someone I didn’t even know.

What if he turned out to be some ugly duck sitting on the other side, pretending to be a Greek God?

But for some reason... I still talked to him. I still listened to him.

And for my luck—when we met, he was actually handsome.

Way too handsome.

I wish I had been good at drawing faces.

I’m good at sketching clothes but not faces.

If I was, I would’ve drawn him.

Since no picture was ever shared, I can’t even try to find him online. I have no photo, no name... nothing.

I once even went to an experienced artist—someone who claimed he could draw realistic faces, like those sketches made from witness descriptions in investigations.

And honestly, maybe he was good—many of his artworks looked realistic.

He did his best, I guess. But even though the drawing looked real, it wasn’t him.

I know I sound too obsessed.

Because I am obsessed.

It wasn’t just what we did—it was how we did it.

And how he knew every inch of me without knowing my name.

And by every inch—I don’t mean my body.

I mean my thoughts. My desires.

He understood me beyond the words we typed on the screen.

He saw right through me.

I even deleted all the dating apps.

Because he consumed me so much that after him, I haven’t felt attracted to any other guy like that.

It’s been 2 years.

And still, he’s as fresh in my mind as if we met just yesterday.

And I bet—tomorrow when I wake up, I’ll feel the same way.

Beep beep beep.

I sighed and looked toward the alarm clock—

The second reminder of the day buzzed, telling me to stop.

"Enough for now. Get up."

I turned off the alarm, got up, and went to the washroom to freshen up.

I filled the bathtub and sat in it, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

I was literally pushing myself into depression at this point.

Desiring something that no longer existed.

And what were the odds it ever would?

No doubt, I’ve convinced myself over the last 2 years that more years are going to pass too—

And all I’ll be left with is this ache for him.

I really need to move on at this point.

But I don’t know how.

I’ve tried not thinking about him.

But when I close my eyes, the memories of those nights play in my head like a movie.

So vivid... making me ache for him even more.

I wish I had never met him in the first place.

Never clicked on that ad.

Never filled that form.

Never replied to the message he sent.

Never agreed to the deal.

If I hadn’t done that, I would have been living a normal life, too.

But now, all I dream about is a life I have no idea if I’ll ever get to live—

Because it all revolves around him.

And until I find him again... it’s just not possible.

Sometimes I wonder a lot—about him.

What is he doing?

Pleasing someone else, just like he did with me?

Leaving girls behind, craving, and then moving on to the next?

It hurts like hell when I think of it.

It was only supposed to be physical.

But the way it turned personal... makes me hate myself.

I think I entered the wrong thing at the wrong time.

But still, all I wish for is to find him again.