Sweet forbidden love

I fell in love with my father's best friend.

My father is two years older than my mother. According to my grandparents, they met and fell for each other when they were children, so they married quite young.

On the day I let out my first cry into the world, my mother was only eighteen.

My father has a close friend who, while not a blood relative, is a brother who has gone through life and death with him.

He is already over thirty but has yet to marry. He frequently visits our house. I have liked him since I was a little girl. I liked him so much that no matter how many boys pursued me at school, I rejected them all because my tiny heart was reserved only for him.

Even though he is older, he remains youthful and quite fit. He exudes a mature charm that leaves me utterly infatuated.

When walking beside me, no one thinks he is my uncle. Instead, they often assume he is my older brother. In my eyes, he is incredibly handsome. While my peers were obsessed with pop stars, I was head over heels for his looks. Those thick eyebrows, the high bridge of his nose, those rosy lips.

Oh, his eyes. Every time he looks at me, it feels like an arrow shooting straight into my naive heart. I cannot understand why he is still single. I would like to nominate him to the list of the world's most golden bachelors.

He dotes on me. When I was a child, every time he visited, he gave me the best treats and sweets. He never arrived without a teddy bear or a toy for me.

Back then, I was innocent. Because I liked him, I was always scurrying after him, saying.

"Uncle, I like you so much. Please wait for me to grow up."

Everyone laughed when they heard me, including him. I was so frustrated. People should not look down on a child's feelings like that. My feelings were real. My heart was not as immature as my age. He just looked at me, smiled, and patted my head.

"Alright, grow up quickly, Ava. I will wait."

I was so happy. His words planted a seed in me without me even realizing it. I only wished I could grow up a little faster so I could confess my feelings to him.

When I was in sixth grade, I was bullied. The class president was jealous because my literature scores were higher than hers, so she turned the whole class against me. Their constant teasing made me feel terribly lonely.

At the peak of it, my classmates stuck chewing gum into my hair. I cried so much. He had told me he liked long hair, and now I had to cut that lock away. Would he stop liking me?

I kept the incident a secret from everyone. Yet, when he came over, he managed to notice that a lock of my hair was missing. He asked anxiously.

"Ava, what happened to your hair?"

I knew I should stay silent, but for some reason, when he asked, I burst into tears. All the resentment I had been holding back poured out.

He was panicked when he saw me cry and insisted on knowing exactly what had happened.

And so, he went straight to my school to settle things. At the mere mention of his name, the teacher and the parents of the ringleader turned pale. From then on, no one dared to bully me again.

When I entered puberty, he cared for me deeply, even more than my mother did. Every time I posted a sad status, he would ask. "Ava, did something happen at school today?"

"Ava, don't be sad. I bought you that dress you liked."

Once, I cried bitterly because my mother scolded me for a low math score. He found out and texted me.

"My Princess Ava, come downstairs. I am taking you out for ice cream. Forget about the grades."

Just like that, he claimed the title of best friend in my heart. I shared every secret with him. I wondered. In his heart, what position did I hold?

This year I am eighteen, and he is thirty-four. If he were to marry and have his own family, would he no longer have time for me? I immediately brushed that thought aside. I was terrified. I had to quickly reveal my feelings to him.

But before I could tell him how I felt, the most terrifying nightmare of my life suddenly struck.

That day, he came over to drink beer with my father. His eyes were heavy with sadness.

Out of curiosity, I pressed my ear against the door to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"So, are you getting married soon?"

"Yes. It is someone my mother set me up with. I just went on a blind date yesterday." He sighed as he spoke, and my heart felt as though it were shattering.

"Do you like her?"

"There are no feelings, brother. But my mother has arranged everything."

My father shook his head and clicked his tongue.

"You are at that age. You are thirty-four and haven't found anyone yet. You should just listen to your elders. Your parents are getting old and want grandchildren. Settle down so they can have some peace of mind."

I looked at his helpless expression, and my heart ached. I clutched the hem of my skirt, unable to listen any longer, and ran to my room to cry my eyes out.

If he married, he would have his own life, and he would no longer love me. No one would protect me, no one would listen to my rambling secrets, and no one would let me act spoiled. I would no longer be his little princess. He would love her. He would not love me anymore.

The thought made me bury my face in my pillow and cry harder until my eyes were swollen and red.

I tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep. The thought of that warm chest no longer belonging to me but to that wife. I could not stand it. That devotion belonged to me. I was so angry and hurt that I began to scream.

He was terrible. He said he would wait for me to grow up. I am a university freshman this year. Could he not be a little more patient? He was a liar.

In a fit of rage, I grabbed the pillow and hurled it against the wall.

My chest heaved, and I struggled to breathe. My mind was filled with images of him giving the tenderness he once gave me to someone else. No. That could not happen. Absolutely not.

AT ALL COSTS, HE MUST BE MINE.

With that, a dark thought flashed through my mind.

I hesitated for a moment. This plan seemed a bit reckless.

But this was the only way. He must be mine. Forever.