The Unwanted Guest

Unwanted meaning:- Undesired, unwished. That's what she was in his life, she waited for a decade for his return only to be declared as a forced unwanted woman. He discarded her, rejected her, broke her to her ending limit that she finally accepted that he was no longer the man she gave her heart to. But what will happen when her innocence started playing with his reluctant heart? Even the slightest thought of her hand being placed in another man's burned his insides in jealousy. But why? Wasn't he the one who wanted this fate? A bitter rejection leaded to a slight attraction turning into a vicious obsession. Will she be able to handle his possessive madness when she already gave up on him? Will he stop putting his claim on her when this time it was her who rejected him? The answer was no. His obsession was beyond the limit, control and ethics. Unwanted Her. A heartbreaking tale of an innocent soul. A tale of her unwanted love and his unwanted obsession.

Out of sheer kindness, I brought my drunk, heartbroken coworker home for the night after she'd been dumped. Little did I know, she'd treat my place like it was her own. "Isla, I gave my ex my whole paycheck. I'm just gonna stay here for the rest of the month. You've got this huge place all to yourself anyway—such a waste. It's perfect, we can keep each other company. And hey, no rent. You're already cooking for yourself, so what's one more plate, right?" I stopped typing and blinked, trying to process what she was saying. She kept going, "Don't worry, I'm not gonna take advantage—I'll chip in 2 bucks a day. Honestly, you must get so lonely living alone. Aren't I sweet for offering?" I just stared at her, barely holding back a laugh at her blatant audacity. That evening, I slipped out of the office early, went straight home, and deadbolted the door behind me. No matter how much she knocked and yelled from the hallway, I didn't budge. The next morning, she stormed over to my desk and slammed her hand on my cubicle wall, her tone dripping with accusation. "You were home last night—why didn't you open the door?! I had nowhere to go, had to crash at a hotel, and between that and food, I dropped 60 bucks. You owe me." She shoved her phone screen—payment receipts on full display—right in my face. I couldn't help it—I laughed out loud. If she wanted to play that game, fine. If she thought she could push me around, she was about to learn what real-world consequences looked like.

On the day of my daughter’s graduation trip, I ended up late because of work. When I rushed to the airport, I was stopped at the counter. “Sir, we don’t have your ticket details in the system.” I stood stunned for two seconds. I called my wife Sue Jenkins a dozen times before she finally picked up. “Did you buy a ticket for me?” It sounded very noisy on her end and her voice kept being cut off. “I accidentally filled in Clement’s name instead of yours, so I thought I’d just bring him along on the trip. I was so busy boarding the plane just now, I forgot to tell you. If you want to join us, take the next flight in…” My daughter’s voice suddenly sounded through the phone. “Dad, just do your work in peace. It’s good enough to have Mom and Clement with me on my graduation trip.” The call got cut off. The airport was bustling with people, but I stood rooted to the ground for a long time with my luggage case behind me. Sorrow filled my heart. When I was young, my mom was always biased toward my brother. She would always tell me that the elder brother should always give in to his younger brother. After growing up and having my own family, my wife took a liking for my younger brother. Even my daughter liked pestering him on a daily basis. I looked at the itinerary I spent many nights preparing. Exhaustion filled me. I picked up my phone and sent the resignation email I had typed out long ago to my company. Then, I booked a one-way flight ticket scheduled seven days later. Since I was always excluded, I decided to take the initiative to leave.

"Who the hell are you?" "What the hell are you doing in my apartment?" A story between two neighbors and an incident that slowly draws them together *Disclaimer* this story has strong language and violence

When I asked building management to reset the smart lock on the condo we had bought for our marriage, the technician hesitated before asking: "Ms. Foster, are you sure you want every user deleted? Sophie Clarke has administrator access, while you're listed as a temporary guest." I smiled. "Delete them. Don't leave anyone." The night before, stomach pain had left me crouching outside the elevator, my hands shaking as I entered the code, but the lock kept flashing ACCESS DENIED. I called Marcus Reed, and he lowered his voice on the other end. "Stop messing with the lock. Sophie just fell asleep. Her nerves are fragile, and the alarm will scare her awake." Sweat covered my forehead from the pain. "This is my home." He was silent for two seconds before answering with reproach in his voice. "She's only staying for a few days. Besides, don't you have the code? Don't embarrass her over something this small." Only later did I learn what "temporary" really meant. Her fingerprint had been placed first on the access list. Meanwhile, I was the name on the deed, yet I had been locked outside without even being able to reach my stomach medicine. I stared at the entry in the smart lock's activity log. [Marcus Reed removed Natalie Foster's emergency access at 11:48 p.m.] I didn't call him again. I simply paid off the home improvement loan early and contacted a realtor to put the condo back on the market. I no longer wanted the home that in my name. And I no longer wanted him.

I live double lives, but with one very strict rule: never get involved with the clients. By day, I plan weddings I'll never have. Every bride who calls on me gets the wedding of her dreams. And even though no man's ever wanted to end up with me, watching the joy on my brides' faces is enough. By night, I put on a mask and become the comfort I can't find anywhere else. Just an hour of quiet, honest company for strangers who've run out of people to trust. It's not romance - not even close. But I get my own kind of comfort from it too. Then three men walk into my carefully guarded life, all at once, all determined to break my one rule: one I used to hate, one I'm not allowed to see, and one who's already trouble next door. I have a very terrible feeling I only need to be afraid of one of them - the Stranger in My Bed.