Novel & Cerita Jealousy The Voice

Layla's voice was a shrill scream, her words echoing off the walls. "How dare she own a successful company like that! She has the audacity, the unmitigated gall to launch it on the same day I was set to unveil my new collection!" Her rage was palpable, a living, breathing thing that seemed to pulse with a life of its own. Layla's eyes flashed with a malevolent intensity, her mind consumed by a bitter jealousy. She couldn't bear the thought of Hazel's triumph, her success a stark reminder of Layla's failures. The room seemed to close in around her, the walls suffocating her, as she struggled to draw breath.

It just… arrived. Unspoken. Intimate. "Give her back." Aria is mine — mine, mine, mine. Give her back to me. I want her all to myself. Those fools don't deserve her. Aria… my Aria. The voice was obsessed. Unhinged. Possessive to the point of madness. Vaethea tensed. Aphrodite drew still. The voice wasn't divine. It wasn't angry. It was jealous. Something else wanted Aria.

Low, deadly, possessive. And for the first time, I feel it. A dark jealousy. From Scar.

Why are you jealous? I gritted my teeth, shaking my head as if I could make the voice go away. I wasn’t jealous. I couldn’t be. But the voice persisted, its words curling around my heart like a serpent. If you’re not jealous, then why are you crying? Why does it hurt so much to see him with her? “I’m not jealous,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I’m not.” Then why are you mad at him? Why do you feel like he’s betrayed you?

I said, my voice teasing, my smile growing as I tilted my head, watching her reaction. Her eyes snapped to mine, her face reddening, her voice sharp. “I’m not jealous!” she said, her arms crossing over her chest, her lips pursing in defiance. “Oh, you’re jealous,” I said, my laugh louder, my eyes glinting as I leaned closer, my voice playful. “Come on, Isabella. You’re jealous as hell. Admit it.” She glared, her eyes narrowing, her voice stubborn. “I’m not—” She stopped, her shoulders slumping, her gaze dropping as she sighed, her voice soft. “Fine. I’m jealous. Happy now?”

A strange, foreign feeling. Jealousy.

She was afraid that, at some point, I would end up showing my love to someone else behind her back. So, she deliberately sought out Ian. She'd deliberately behaved intimately with him, picking him up on rainy days and taking photo after photo with him. She wanted to see me get jealous. She wanted me to get angry and have a fit, going berserk because of her. Only then did she feel loved, cared for, and seen. She'd think to herself, "See? That proves how much he cares about me." That gave her a twisted sense of satisfaction, making her feel secure.

A deep voice pulled me out of my remorseful moment. "Excuse me?!" I frowned, turning to glance at my accuser. "What are you talking about? I have no idea what you're accusing me of," I said calmly, trying to keep my emotions in check. "You are jealous!" He announced, smirking as his voice taunted me. "I am not!" I hissed, glaring at him. "Yes, you are!" He said, looking into my eyes and the confidence in his voice made me want to smack his cheek.

Two can play this game. "Jealousy is a bad look on you. I was all alone with you for 3 hours, and you couldn't do anything with me, so don't come here now, trying to make yourself seem so macho. Cause you're not." He had a sadistic smile on his face and it pissed me off.

It's a fragrance of civil war. "You think this is over? That you've marked your territory like a dog and now everything is settled?" She leans in, hands on the table, her bruised face inches from mine. Her voice whispers, a sweet venom. "Jealousy is a weed. You've watered it with blood. It will grow faster, stronger. You will doubt every silence. Every outing. Every glance I cast at another man, a delivery driver, a neighbor. You will rot from the inside."