How To Stop Being Overprotective In Relationships?

Everyone said I was too possessive when it came to my girlfriend, Amanda Crane. When Amanda first started taking photos of her childhood friend, Ian Lewis, I ripped apart all the rolls of film. When she helped him fix his computer, I called her 100 times in an hour. And when he called her from the airport, asking her to pick him up because the rain made it impossible to get a cab, I held a knife to my throat. I told her I'd take my own life if she went to him. Fed up, Amanda shipped me off to a psychiatric hospital that same night. When I got out, I vanished. Amanda was certain I was hiding somewhere, spying on her and Ian, but I never showed up—until the celebration party for a business project three years later. Ian put his arm around Amanda and swirled the wine glass he was holding. He shot me a taunting look, remarking, "You used to get so jealous, Steven. I'm sure you no longer mind if Mandy and I drink from the same glass now, right?" He waited for me to go berserk the way I used to three years ago, but I simply moved the bottle of wine closer to them. "I don't mind at all, of course. Have as many glasses as you want. It's great to see that your relationship has been progressing so well." Amanda paused. Her eyes started to redden. She stared fixedly at me and questioned, "Why don't you feel jealous anymore, Steven?"

"Fine!" I acquiescently cave in. "He better keeps his eyes off of you, or I'll poke his eyeballs out of its socket!" I grumbled exasperatedly. She just shook her head again in disbelief. It seems like it's becoming her habit soon. After a few minutes, he came back, and he barely glances to her side which made me happy. That guy is not stupid after all. I know, I am very possessive, but I'm just protecting what's mine. Whatever is mine, is mine alone, and sharing is not on my vocabulary. Deceitful Lies, Betrayal, Revenge, all in the name of Love. Will they both find their happy-ever-after?

Everybody wants to be protected. Everybody wants to be secured. In every story, if you are one of those "important" people, your life will be filled with threats so there are people around you to protect you, the guardians. Sometimes, or almost always, the damsel in distress is always the one being protected. Dreaming of their "Prince Charming" or maybe a "Knight in Shining Armor" ...but now, I will prove to you that a woman can also protect an "important" person... only that... ...he's a badboy. I am guarding the badboy and this is my story.

【What should I do if I’ve fallen in love with my sister’s fiancé?】 I came across an Instagram post from an account with a default profile picture on my flight back to New York. The comments were brutal, each one harsher than the last. Then I saw a reply from a burner account: 【Don’t blame her. I was the one who led her on.】 【She acts tough, but she’s more fragile than anyone. I just can’t help feeling sorry for her.】 My finger froze on the screen, because the profile picture on that account was the cat my boyfriend, Vincent, had given me. With trembling fingers, I opened the poster’s profile. There was only one video on it. In the video, a woman had her back to the camera as she bent down to water a nearly dead plant, a silver bracelet on her wrist. It was the matching bracelet mom had left for my sister Clara and me before she died. For a long moment, I could barely breathe. Suddenly, I thought back to the first time I brought Vincent home to meet Clara. After one failed relationship, Clara had decided all men were the same. She looked at Vincent coldly and said, “He’s no different from the rest. One day, he’ll betray you too.” Vincent held my hand then and said, each word clear and steady, “If I ever betray Nora, may I lose everything.” Clara only scoffed, “Then we’ll see.” But if all of this was true, I was caught between the sister who had raised me and the man I had loved for five years. What was I supposed to do?

And here I was, seated on the balcony, staring at the rain pitter and patter against the glass coverage walls with my bodyguard seated there, a book in hand. I don't know his problem. I know from his attitude that he wasn't happy to “babysit” a twenty year old, but he could have just ended his contract. He never paid me a single attention and was always reading, but strangely, he was always alert. I was the abomination he must never look at. And it made my blood boil. But not for long, though. Because every time I set eyes on him, I melt. It is forbidden, but who cares? I want him, but does he want me?

It's a journey of loveA journey of how two people break each other. A journey of how someone can be scared of love but get healed by that same love. Its a journey of how love can become the reason of destruction as well