Bittersweet Obsession Chinese Drama Novels & Stories

CHAPTER 18 - YES OR NO? Author's POV The days were passing, and the wedding day was near. Whatever the occasion, the stress was clearly visible on Xingyue's face. Even though Xi Song was not happy with this marriage, there was a thing that slowly took away his feelings. As if he really wanted to tie himself with her. But why was he feeling like this? Was he looking at her from another point of view now? Was that bitterness gradually turning into sweet syrup?

He knew, rather he had realized that he had something in his heart more than just mere obsession for her. It was a pure feeling. Which enlightened his dark soul. Made him content. And simultaneously that feeling wasn't letting him live because it gave birth to something within him that he never felt. That he never perceived in life. Rather, the teachings drilled in his mind, according to what he worked, he was never suppose to feel it. It started with an uneasiness upon seeing her indulging in her past trauma and paranoia. And slowly that uneasiness converted to heart constriction. And eventually into a bitter feeling, which he took so long to realize.

If his cousins could see him now, they’d probably be laughing at him for being so weak. Colton didn’t know why he was feeling what he was feeling. It was like he was on drugs and he felt the withdrawal of not being with her. Being with her made him feel alive like nothing else ever could. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was her. One could even say that he was obsessed.

This was a black and red-themed mask party hosted by one of the prestigious figures in the city; Klaus and Debrah. On that note, I and king had our masks on but we were still noticeable. King wasn't a man that loved publicity. I understood that the moment we walked passed the red carpet. As we both walked past, my eyes caught a man that left me amazed. He was standing with a woman which I presumed was his wife considering how she clinched to him leaving her DNA all over his face. She wrapped her right hand around his neck then her other hand was placed on his chest with her diamond ring taking its own special attention.

Wires snaking out from a dirty black box blinking with every second. There was no sound, or screaming. Only the image and time. My hands started shaking. “Dominic?” Diego asked. “What is it?” I couldn’t speak. “Dominic.” Matteo stepped closer, his voice sharp now. “What the hell is it?” They crowded around, trying to see. My fingers couldn’t move. The phone trembled in my grip. Then another ping. A message popped up across the screen. Marry me properly this time. 24 hours. Or you’ll collect their ashes.

One of the maids scrambled for a phone. Isabelle moaned in pain, her face contorted. But even through her tears, even through her apparent agony, Elena saw it. Just for a split second. The tiniest flicker of satisfaction in Isabelle's eyes as she looked at Elena. Elena's knees buckled. The room spun. This wasn't real. This couldn't be real. Isabelle had done this to herself. Had used Elena's own desperate plan against her. Had turned Elena's moment of leverage into the perfect frame.

Why can’t anything ever go my way? Why do I always lose just when I think I’ve won? And why the fuck is the man I’m supposed to marry standing in front of her suite, arguing with her boyfriend over his right to see her? A cold chill runs through me as I take in the scene — the tension in his shoulders, the desperate edge in his voice. This isn’t just some unresolved ex drama. This is obsession. And I’m the idiot who thought I could change him. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I force my voice to be steady, light, like my heart isn’t sinking straight into my stomach.

I'll like to see how that courage and hate will turn into lust for me". Elara's eyes fluttered shut for a second, trying to block him out, but the heat of his body, the scent of blood and wine and that dark cologne, pressed in on her from every side. She felt the rough pad of his thumb slide slowly up and down the column of her throat, not choking now, just stroking, possessively, like he was petting something he already owned. Her pulse jumped under his touch, traitorously fast, and she hated how loud it sounded in her ears. "I'd like to see how much of me you can take in your tiny throat"

“Because I found out a long time ago, when you stop moving is when the world rips you apart.” My chest ached at the roughness in his tone. "What happened to you?" His walls slammed back up in an instant. "Nothing relevant. Eat your food." "Damien." "I said, eat." But there was no fire in it, just fatigue. We ate in silence for some minutes, the tension changing from electric to something heavier, sadder. I watched as he pushed his Pad Thai around his plate, barely eating though lost in whatever dark thoughts he wouldn’t share.

He poured himself a drink anyway. The glass stopped halfway to his mouth. The scent of whiskey suddenly felt wrong. Too sharp. Too bitter. He stared at it for a long moment before setting it back down untouched. Interesting. The elevator dinged softly at exactly 10:38PM. His body reacted before his mind did. The tension behind his eyes eased first. Then his shoulders. Then something deeper. Damien stood very still as footsteps approached down the hallway. And when Liora stepped into the penthouse a few seconds later, damp from the rain outside and looking exhausted beneath the bookstore sweater hanging off one shoulder, he realized something deeply unsettling.