Night Of His Obsession

"What the hell!" I exclaimed. I quickly picked up the blanket and covered my sensitive body. I reached out to the side table to find my glasses. I found them and put them on. After I wore it, I looked at the man sleeping soundly on the bed. Who is that man? This is not my boyfriend. My virginity. I reserved it. Oh God. "No, no," I whispered repeatedly. I shake my head like crazy. I messed up my hair and touched my forehead. It's not happening; I'm just dreaming. Try to remember what happened last night, Friah. I closed my eyes and tried to recall the events of the previous night. Images flashed through my mind—snippets of conversations and laughter—but nothing concrete. Panic started to rise within me as I struggled to piece together the missing memories. I was accepted into a big drama project that I am writing. They contacted me earlier, and they wanted my story to be a drama on television. We will have a meeting on Sunday. I called my friends to have a small drink in the bar whe

"Where are you going?" Drenver asked. I went back to bed. Just stare at the ceiling. He was facing me and watching my movements.I intend to take my bag now. Because all my things are there: cards, IDs, and the key to our apartment. It's been two days since the accident happened. Ever since he came home after he left angry with me, Drenver's behavior has changed. He will watch every move I make. He is now tampering with my cell phone, which he used to not do.He gently held my face and turned it toward him. "You're leaving, Babe? I was just asking where you're going." He was smiling, but it was fake. I could sense the underlying tension in his voice and the forced smile on his face, making me uneasy. I hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond, but I knew deep down that something wasn't right."I'll be leaving later. Today is my meeting with the SVL company," I explain.He put his hand on my stomach. "What is your meeting for?" His hand traveled inside my pajamas until he reache

"Miss, I guess this isn't for me?" I asked the woman. She handed the big bouquet to me."It's in our system, ma'am, with the flower.""Maybe you just made a mistake, Miss," I insist.I can't believe it. This is a bouquet of white tulips, my most hated flower right now. It can't be a coincidence. There are many flowers in the world; why this flower?"Okay, I'll just call." She dialed something on the phone. Someone answered the phone while she was talking. The flower caught my eye. There was a card inside. I was curious about what was inside, so I took it and read what was written. If it's not mine, I'm sorry for the owner.Missy.I quickly put the card back, and I pretended I didn't care. One word, one name. It sounds familiar to me."I'm sorry, ma'am; it's mislabeled." She took the flower again. I forced a smile and thanked her for the bag. I also left there and walked back to Louie's car. He didn't park the car and just waited outside.I opened the car door and sat down. Louie just l

I'm running late for my first day of work because Drenver didn't sleep at home last night. He said he would drive me to work but has yet to arrive. I waited for him because it was 30 minutes before my work started. I am now riding a taxi to the company. I hope Mr. Lee forgives me for being late. As I sit in the taxi, my mind races, worrying about the impression I'll make on my first day. I hope Mr. Lee understands that this situation was out of my control and that I am committed to punctuality moving forward.I arrived at the company's building 15 minutes late. I adjusted my clothes and posture before going inside. The guard greeted me with a smile. I also responded to him with a small smile. I went straight to the front desk. "Hi, I'm Friah Marviz, and I have an appointment with Mr. Lee," I replied courteously. "Wait a second, Madam; I'll just confirm," he pressed on telecom. "Sir, Ms. Marviz is at the front desk. Shall I take her up there?" she asked. "Sure, please bring her to my

Drenver remembered what he told me yesterday. He picked me up from the company. I didn't expect him to remember because he left earlier and didn't remember that he would drop me off at work. He was driving quietly; no one intended to talk to the two of us. He frowned and gripped the steering wheel tightly. He only looked straight at the road. "You're fucking slow, moron!" He yelled at the car in front of us. I was taken aback by his sudden outburst. I smelled alcohol inside the car. Did he drink? Is he drunk? I started to feel uneasy and considered asking him if he was okay to drive. But I hesitated, not wanting to upset him further. "Hey? Are you alright?" I asked without looking directly at him. I'm afraid to meet his eyes because he wants to hurt someone. I could sense his anger radiating off him, and I didn't want to provoke him further. The tension in the car was palpable, and I silently prayed for a safe journey. "Do I look freakin' alright?" he sarcastically said. I soft