Spellbound by Obsession のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 21 - チャプター 30

The second year in Newburyport brought a change I didn’t dare dream of.Marge, the café owner, had a sister who managed a restaurant downtown—The Pier, an elegant place with white tablecloths and uniformed servers. She needed an experienced waitress and Marge spoke about me.“Clara is good, dedicated, never misses a day. And she needs the money.”I got the job.The salary was double what I earned at the café. The tips were generous. For the first time since I arrived in Newburyport, I could breathe.I spent weeks looking for a better place to live. Nothing luxurious—it wasn’t my style and didn’t fit my budget. But something clean, safe, with windows that let the sun in.I found a two-bedroom apartment on the second floor of an old building, a few blocks from the restaurant. The kitchen was small but functional. The living room had a fireplace I would never use. Aggy’s bedroom had light yellow walls and a window overlooking a tree.“It’s yours,” the realtor, a nice woman named Beatrice

The second miscarriage broke me in a way the first one couldn’t.It wasn’t just the loss of the baby—it was the loss of the illusion. The certainty that my body was incapable of generating life. The realization that I would never give Dorian the child he didn’t even know he wanted.In the hospital, while the doctors removed what remained of my third failed pregnancy, I made a decision.Never again.Never again would I try. Never again would I subject myself to this. Never again would I put my body and mind through this torture.But I would also never let anyone take Dorian from me again.***Sleepless nights led me to research. First, articles about infidelity, about marriage recovery, about overcoming the past. Then, more obscure websites, anonymous forums where women talked about love spells, reconciliation rituals, witchcraft.It was on one of these nocturnal excursions that I found her name.Lara.A twenty-year-old girl, dark hair, eyes that seemed to suck in the light. The same g

The dream came like a tide I couldn’t contain.Black hair. Long, loose, falling over pale shoulders like a veil of shadows. Dark eyes that sucked in the light around them and transformed it into their own brilliance.And jasmine. The scent was there, impregnated in the air of the dream, so real that I could almost touch it.She stood before me, arms crossed over her chest, hands gripping her own shoulders as if she were cold. She didn’t look directly at me—her eyes wandered around the scenery around us, a blur of colors and shapes I couldn’t distinguish.Only she was clear.“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, her voice a whisper that echoed strangely.“Why?” I asked, taking a step forward.She retreated. A small step, almost imperceptible, but I saw it.“Because you shouldn’t.”The answer was vague, evasive. She bit her lower lip, a nervous gesture that seemed familiar to me, although I swore I’d never seen her before.“You seem familiar to me,” I said, studying her face, trying to dec

Dinner at the hotel was silent.I tried. God knew I tried. I talked about the menu, about the decoration, about plans for the next day. Dorian responded with monosyllables, his eyes fixed on his plate, his mind clearly somewhere else.On someone else.The thought gnawed at my insides like acid.“The salmon is delicious,” I commented, trying to start a conversation.“It is.”“Tomorrow we could visit that lighthouse the waitress recommended.”He looked up at me, and there was something there—a gleam, a spark—that made me instantly regret mentioning her.“We could,” he said, and went back to eating.We finished the meal in silence. We went upstairs in silence. We brushed our teeth in silence.In the bedroom, the tension was a third element between us, invisible but suffocating.Dorian sat on the bed, his head down, his hands resting on his knees. I sat beside him, my shoulder brushing his.“Sarah…” he began, but I didn’t let him finish.I kissed him.It wasn’t a passionate kiss, it wasn’

The bed was too small for three people.Our daughter slept between us, her tiny body taking up more space than seemed possible. Her black hair spread across the white pillow, her breathing soft and rhythmic, her lips parted in a silent yawn.Lara—Clara, now—was on the other side, her dark eyes fixed on me through the gloom.“You should go,” she whispered.“I’m not going.”“Dorian…”“No,” my hand found hers over the comforter, our fingers intertwining. “I’ve already lost too much time.”She sighed, but didn’t pull her hand away.“You can’t just show up like this, after three years, and decide you’re going to stay.”“Why not?”“Because things don’t work that way.”“Why not?” I insisted.She laughed, a low, tired sound.“You’re impossible.”“I know,” I squeezed her hand. “But I’m serious. Since I woke up in the hospital, I’ve tried to remember. I read reports, saw photos, went to therapy. Nothing worked. It was like they ripped out a piece of me and threw it away.”“It was the spell,” sh