His Lovely Obsession Novels & Stories

He is handsome, clean-cut, wearing a tailored shirt, sipping whiskey. “He looks normal.” Jessica follows my gaze. “No way. He’s not even going to notice you.” “Why?” “He’s Santiago. He’s fucking rich, girls trip and hoard over him like flies. And yet, he never allows anyone to come close except he specially calls for them. Gigi told me he’s an ass.”

He unveiled his beautiful angel,who laid lifelessly.he stared at her rosy lips,her pale cheeks and white skin. Jeremy admired his Mate even more. He turned his gaze to the bottle given to him by DEATH,he opened it and moved it close to her. The content of the bottle vanished into thin air and Jeremy worried it didn’t work. He stood beside Lena looking down at her. Few minutes later Jeremy began to notice some movements from her. Jeremy pulled her up gently,he placed his hands behind her neck and the other behind her tights and carried her bridal style out of the mogutary.

*Caroline* Noah Stark might be God’s gift to the female population here at Ohio state University, Good at football, bad at love. Obsessed with scoring, refuses to play by the rules. Cruel. Relentless. Brilliant. Intoxicatingly attractive. But I want nothing to do with the dark-haired football player.

he asked, voice lower than usual. “I couldn’t sleep,” she said. “I heard… something.” He dusted his hands, and straightened himself. “The house creaks. You’ll get used to it.” “I didn’t think you liked flowers.” A faint twitch at his mouth. “I don’t. It's a hobby.” Lena stared delirious at him, with arms crossed. “A hobby? But you don't like it. Do you understand what a hobby is?” Damon looked at her with an unreadable expression. “Do you intend to question me till dawn Miss Rowan?”

I replied lightly. He finally smiled. "You're smart. I guess I should read more books now." I chuckled, then asked. "What do you think about it? Love and obsession." He leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table. "I think obsession is a darker form of love. It's more intense than whatever you think love is. It is raw and messy. It doesn't lie the way love does." I stayed quiet, trying to understand him. Well, he had his own perspective just like I had mine.

She uttered while pecking his nose bridge and then finally gazed into his silver gaze. "You made me your obsessor, Arzal. An obsessor who's in need and desires to be your obsession because… " She halted and pecked his lips. "Your obsession is more beautiful than any kind of love and that is the reason I had never asked you that whether you loved me or not, in our past," Arzal silently heard her and then saw her beaming. "Because I have understood your love could leave me broken but your obsession won't even think about leaving my broken pieces,"

She nodded slowly, as though agreeing, but then said, “He looked at you more than once, you know. I saw it in the footage from the liaison’s camera. He couldn’t quite stop himself.” I looked up immediately. “Footage?” “Every patient in this hospital is monitored,” she said smoothly. “But that’s not the point. The point is his eyes found you even when they shouldn’t have.” “That’s not true,” I whispered. “Isn’t it?” Her voice was soft, persuasive. “If he truly despised you, he wouldn’t have asked to see a footage of you. He wouldn’t have watched you at all. Disgust is easy to hide. Obsession isn’t.”

He convinced and forced himself to move on or he tried to. His marriage had become a slow suffocation, it was a union of pity and expectations rather than love. The hospital visits, failed IVFs— it all made him dislike her. Not because of her inability to give him children, but because he pushed him to despise Audrey and she can never fit into Audrey's position. Now, sitting there and watching her, he realized the brutal truth. Helen was his past and should be treated as one. Audrey... was the one his heart beats for. She was the one he still longed for.

I’d rather have him hating me to the point of wanting me dead than continuing to waste his life being obsessed with a woman who belonged to someone else. Hate was something a person could get over. Hate was an emotion you could move away from, given enough time and distance. But obsession? It was like a drug. I knew that better than anyone. I had watched it destroy Max, and I had felt it simmering in my own blood for Damon. No matter how hard you tried to kick the habit, that obsession would burn just as strong four years later the moment you saw them again. “So… I truly… held no chance then,” he scoffed, his head falling back against the pillow as he looked away toward the window again.

Friends noticed, colleagues whispered, but Adrian only smiled, thinking it was love, devotion, care. By the end of the week, Evan had fully established the rhythm of their lives. Adrian’s world revolved around Evan’s presence, his days carefully curated, his nights orchestrated for comfort and intimacy. Evan’s obsessive traits were fully visible now: constant checking, calculated proximity, subtle domination, unwavering control. Yet Adrian saw only love, devotion, and tenderness. And that was the dangerous part. Evan’s obsession had crossed every boundary he had tested before, yet Adrian welcomed it, craving it, addicted to the careful balance of dominance and tenderness. Evan knew it was pe