All Chapters of Hidden Obsession : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Adrian woke the next morning with the uneasy weight of memory pressing against his ribs. He’d dreamt of Evan—too vividly. The scent of cedarwood clung to him like it had soaked into his sheets. The apartment felt smaller now, more like a cage than a home. Every creak of the walls made him wonder if Evan was there again, standing silently, watching. By nine, he couldn’t stand it anymore. He decided to work from the café down the street, somewhere with people, noise, and witnesses. He showered, dressed quickly, and left without breakfast, needing the fresh air more than food. The café was half-full, filled with the low hum of conversation and the hiss of the espresso machine. Adrian ordered a black coffee and set up his laptop in the corner. The normalcy was a balm—until he looked up. Evan was at the counter. It shouldn’t have been possible. Adrian hadn’t told anyone he was leaving. He hadn’t even followed his usual route here. But there Evan stood, dressed in a dark turtleneck an

Adrian barely slept. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Evan standing in his office lobby, talking to the guard like he had every right to be there. He saw the bouquet of flowers on his desk, the curious glances of his coworkers. He heard Evan’s voice in the park, soft but unshakable. I see you. And sooner or later, you’ll see me too. By morning, Adrian’s head throbbed with exhaustion. He knew he couldn’t keep pretending nothing was wrong. If Evan had the audacity to show up at his workplace, there was no telling where he would appear next. He needed to draw a line. A real one. -- The office buzzed with chatter that morning, but Adrian barely registered it. He kept his head down, answering emails, finishing reports, forcing his mind to focus. But when he reached for his coffee, he froze. A small folded note sat beside his cup. He hadn’t seen anyone place it there. His pulse quickened as he unfolded the paper. 'You look tired. Don’t stay up so late thinking of me'.

Adrian had never known exhaustion could feel like this—like a second skin, heavy and unshakable. Every morning, he dragged himself into the office, suit pressed, hair styled, mask firmly in place. He smiled at the receptionist, made small talk by the coffee machine, typed out endless reports that blurred into one another. To his coworkers, Adrian was the dependable colleague, the quiet one who never complained, the man who carried too much responsibility but bore it gracefully. But underneath the surface, every step felt like wading through water. His double life was pulling him under. By day, he was “Adrian the employee,” normal, responsible, functioning. By night, he was “Adrian the possession.” Evan’s Adrian. The role he never agreed to play, but one that was written into every corner of his existence. And the cracks were starting to show. -- That Monday morning, Maya leaned across his desk with narrowed eyes. “You look like hell,” she said bluntly, sipping her coffee. “And

The first day without Evan was unbearable.Adrian woke expecting to find him in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee already waiting. But the apartment was still. Too still. The silence felt wrong, like a missing heartbeat.By the third day, he noticed the quiet didn’t strangle him as much. He walked to the office without scanning every doorway, without bracing for that familiar shadow to fall in step beside him. His coworkers noticed the difference.“You’re smiling again,” Maya said one afternoon, sliding into the seat across from him in the breakroom. “It suits you.”Adrian ducked his head, embarrassed at the flush rising to his cheeks. “Maybe I’m just… less tired lately.”Less tired. Less watched. Less owned.It became a mantra.By the end of the first week, he almost believed it.He ate dinner without flinching at the sound of footsteps in the hall. He went to bed without waiting for the creak of the door. Even the mirror seemed kinder; the shadows under h

Silence was never absence. It was a strategy. Evan leaned back in the leather chair of his temporary office overseas, the glow of his laptop screen washing over his sharp features. Spreadsheets, contracts, numbers — all meaningless compared to the image that hovered constantly in the back of his mind: Adrian, curled on that couch, fragile in his defiance, stubborn in his fragility. The ache was constant. Two weeks away was punishment for himself as much as it was for Adrian. But business demanded his presence. He had empires to keep stable — and empires didn’t tolerate absence. Still, the meetings blurred together, his attention snapping only when his phone buzzed with the daily updates from the guard he’d left behind. Evan had handpicked him, trained him, ensured his silence. The man’s reports were clinical but thorough: Target home by 6:30. No visitors. Target restless at night. Played piano for thirty-five minutes. Cried at 11:14 p.m. Each line fed the hunger. Each detail