Semua Bab The Alpha Who Ruined Me: Bab 11 - Bab 20

65 Bab

I Lie Without Thinking

I didn’t plan to lie. That was the most unsettling part of it. The lie slipped out so easily that I didn’t even recognize it for what it was until it was already hanging in the air between us, smooth and believable and completely false. “Where were you last night?” my boyfriend asked, barely looking up from his phone. “At Maya’s,” I said. The name came without hesitation. No pause. No nervous laugh. No stutter. I watched his face carefully, waiting for suspicion, for questions, for that tightening around his eyes that used to mean he cared enough to doubt me. But it never came. “Oh,” he said. “Did you have fun?” “Yes.” Another lie. I sat down beside him, my heart pounding—not from fear of being caught, but from how disturbingly natural it felt. I should have been drowning in guilt. I should have felt sick. Instead, there was only a faint awareness in the back of my mind, like a whisper I could easily ignore. You’re getting good at this. That realization unset

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The Pull

Being away from Sebastian didn’t feel like distance. It felt like withdrawal. The realization hit me on the third day—when my coffee tasted wrong, when music annoyed me instead of soothing me, when conversations felt slow and shallow and painfully empty. I moved through my routine like I was underwater, everything muffled and dull. I told myself I was just tired. Another lie. At work, I caught myself checking my phone every few minutes, even though I knew there would be nothing there. No message. No command. No quiet acknowledgment of my existence. And still, I waited. The absence gnawed at me in ways I didn’t know how to explain. I missed the way he looked at me like I was a puzzle worth solving. I missed how his silence felt intentional instead of awkward. I missed how he made me feel present. My boyfriend noticed. “You’ve been distant lately,” he said one evening, his voice cautious. “I’m just stressed.” The lie was automatic. He nodded, accepting it, and so

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I Want More

Wanting more used to feel greedy. Now it felt inevitable. I woke up with Sebastian Crowe already on my mind, his presence lingering in my body like a memory my skin refused to forget. The room I was in felt wrong—not because it was unfamiliar, but because it was empty. Too quiet. Too normal. I stared at the ceiling, my thoughts circling the same truth I had been avoiding since the night before. I didn’t just want him. I wanted more of him. More of the way he watched me without interrupting. More of the calm certainty in his voice. More of the way his silence felt heavier than anyone else’s words. Beside me, my boyfriend slept peacefully, unaware of the distance that had grown between us. His breathing was steady, familiar, and yet it irritated me. I lay there, stiff and awake, painfully conscious of how little I felt. This was the man I was supposed to want. But all I could think about was how empty his arms felt compared to Sebastian’s. I slipped out of bed quietly and we

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What He Knows

The unsettling thing wasn’t that Sebastian Crowe asked questions. It was that he rarely needed to. I noticed it the next time we sat together in silence, the kind that no longer felt awkward but deliberate—like space carved out just for thinking. We were on opposite ends of the couch, close enough that I could feel the warmth of him without touching. My body had learned the distance. It recognized it. “You’re distracted again,” he said calmly. I blinked, my thoughts snapping back to the room. “Am I?” “Yes.” “How can you tell?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light. He turned his head slowly to look at me. “Your breathing changes.” That sent a shiver down my spine. I laughed softly, though it sounded forced even to my own ears. “You make it sound like you’ve been studying me.” “I have,” he replied. There was no hesitation. No playfulness. Just truth, laid bare. I shifted slightly, suddenly aware of how exposed I felt. “That’s… unsettling.” “Is it?” he asked. “Or does it on

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The First Warning

The warning didn’t come from Sebastian. That was the cruelest part. It came on an ordinary afternoon, the kind that should have passed without consequence. I was standing in line at a café near my office, half-listening to the hum of conversation around me, when someone said my name. Not loudly. Not urgently. Just enough to make my skin prickle. I turned. A woman stood a few steps away from me, her expression neutral but her eyes sharp, assessing. She looked familiar in the vague way strangers sometimes do—like we’d crossed paths before without meaning to. “Yes?” I said cautiously. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “You probably don’t remember me. We met once. Briefly.” “I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t—” “That’s fine,” she interrupted gently. “Most people don’t.” Something about her tone made my stomach tighten. She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “I just wanted to tell you… be careful.” I frowned. “About what?” Her gaze flicked around the café, then returned to

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I Stay Anyway

I didn’t see Sebastian for three days. That was the longest stretch since the warning—the longest I’d gone without hearing his voice, without feeling that steady presence hovering at the edges of my thoughts. I told myself the distance was intentional, that I was doing the smart thing. The safe thing. But safety felt hollow now. The warning followed me everywhere. Not the woman’s words exactly, but the understanding beneath them. That being close to Sebastian didn’t just change circumstances—it changed me. And once I’d seen that, I couldn’t unsee it. I tried to fall back into routine. Work. Texting my boyfriend. Smiling at the right moments. Saying the right things. It all felt like acting. Every laugh came half a second too late. Every conversation felt shallow, like I was speaking from behind glass. Even when my boyfriend wrapped an arm around me, I felt disconnected, my body responding out of habit rather than desire. He noticed. “You’re somewhere else lately,” he said one

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Closer Than Before

I didn’t tell anyone I was seeing him again.Not my friend.Not my boyfriend.Not even myself—at least, not in words.I told myself it was temporary. A pause. A space where I could breathe before deciding anything permanent. But the truth was simpler and far more unsettling: seeing Sebastian had begun to feel less like a choice and more like alignment. Like slipping into a rhythm my body had always known but my mind had ignored.We didn’t meet every day.That was his rule, not mine.And somehow, that made the moments we did share feel heavier, fuller—like something carefully rationed so it wouldn’t lose its potency.When I arrived at his place this time, he didn’t open the door immediately. I waited, listening to my own breathing, aware of how calm I felt despite everything I knew I was risking.When he did open it, he looked at me for a long moment before speaking.“You look different,” he said.“So do you,” I replied.That earned me a faint smile.Inside, the room was quiet. No musi

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The Way He Looks At Me

I noticed it the moment I walked into the room.Not what he did.What he didn’t do.Sebastian didn’t move toward me this time. He didn’t offer a greeting or a question. He just looked at me—slowly, deliberately—like he was taking inventory of something that mattered to him.The look made my steps falter.“You’re distracted,” he said.The fact that he noticed before I spoke unsettled me.“I had a long day,” I replied.“Your day isn’t the reason,” he said calmly.I set my bag down, my fingers lingering on the strap. “You always say that.”“Because it’s usually true.”I met his gaze. “And what do you think the reason is this time?”He tilted his head slightly, studying me. The silence stretched—not awkward, not empty. Intentional.“You’re being pulled,” he said. “And you’re starting to resent the direction it’s coming from.”The accuracy of it made my chest tighten.“I didn’t say that.”“You didn’t need to.”I turned away, suddenly aware of the tension coiling low in my body. “You look a

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I Compare Them

I didn’t mean to compare them.That was the lie I told myself at first.I told myself it was coincidence. That it was normal. That anyone in my position would notice the difference between two people who occupied such different spaces in my life.But the truth was harsher.I compared them because one had taught me how to notice.My boyfriend was talking when I realized it.He was telling me about his day—something about a meeting that ran long, a coworker who annoyed him, a plan he had for the weekend. I nodded in the right places. I made the right sounds. I smiled when he paused, waiting for reassurance.But my attention drifted.Not because I didn’t care.Because I couldn’t help noticing what was missing.He talked at me, not to me.Sebastian would have noticed the way my fingers twisted together. He would have paused when my gaze slipped away. He would have adjusted his tone when my shoulders tightened.My boyfriend didn’t.“You’re quiet,” he said finally.“I’m listening,” I replie

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When He Touches Me

The first thing I notice is how still he is.Sebastian doesn’t move toward me when I enter. He doesn’t close the distance the way most men would after days of unsaid tension. He stays where he is, leaning against the counter, arms relaxed, gaze steady.Waiting.It makes my skin prickle.“You came,” he says.It’s not a question. It never is.“I almost didn’t,” I admit.His eyes flicker—not with surprise, but with understanding. “But you did.”I nod, slipping my coat off slowly, deliberately. I don’t know who I’m performing for—him or myself—but I feel different tonight. Less guarded. More exposed.“You’re nervous,” he observes.“I’m aware,” I reply. “Of everything.”“That’s new,” he says quietly.I step closer, stopping just outside his reach. The air between us feels charged, like something waiting to be named.“You haven’t touched me,” I say before I can stop myself.His gaze drops briefly—to my hands, the way my fingers curl and uncurl like they’re bracing for something.“I know.”“

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