Why Are You Obsessed With Me Novels & Stories

For them, visiting Jenny wasn’t an act of kindness. It was an opportunity to gloat.

"Why? Because it makes you feel something?" "Because it doesn't matter!" Dante's control shattered. "Your father murdered mine! Every time I look at you, I should hate you!" "But you don't," Elena said softly. "That's the problem." Dante's eyes closed, forehead dropping to hers. "You're driving me insane." "Then stop fighting it." He kissed her. Desperation. Need. poured into one devastating kiss that made Elena's knees buckle. Dante's hands tangled in her hair, deepening the kiss. His tongue demanded. Consumed.

Or focus my gaze on your bright eyes and forget about the world. My idea to try to forget all this and leave it in the past was to sink even deeper into work. This will cause me a future problem, I'm feeling it, but I can't escape it. It has become a vicious cycle. I think about her, I work more. I see her, I work more. Furthermore, I smell you, I work harder. There is no human being in the world who can handle huge doses of stress in a row and doesn't freak out.

My jaw clenched. Mira leaned back; her voice calm and dreamy. "All night long, I thought about him." She laughed again. "And now? I believe in love at first sight." I stared at her, mute. This lady—this pathetic, manipulative lady—stood before me, confessing that somehow, in less than twenty-four hours, she had developed this pretty sick obsession for Alexander,my man. One measured breath came, then the next. "You're delusional ," I said, freezing her in place with my glare. "This conversation never took place. You are going to respect my father, and we are both going to pretend you never said all this."

Why was her life full of difficulties. Aunty mei comes to check Luna if she needs anything but she sees her crying. She goes near her and says "what happened madam why are you crying"? Luna hugs aunty mei and replies "I dont want to marry him plz"

my all power drained. she was a fairy ....my fairy...she was mine... the only mine...oh my God... if she had a boyfriend or husband ....no problem I would kill him and made her mine...now she became my obsession ...my possession... I grinned foolishly...hehe ... I knew...she was the one... not only I claimed her also made her my wife and my baby's mom...I could see my future...now it's time to make you mine fairy.....💟💟

Possibly escaped from a lab. As crazy as a cannibalistic rabbit with swine flu. That’s the only explanation. I sit on the bed, lace my boots tight, and let the questions roll in anyway. I get how obsession happens. I get how a lunatic can latch on and spiral. But why me? Where did we even meet? And seriously — why me? I skip makeup, swipe on pink gloss, and stare at my reflection. I look normal. Annoyingly normal. Definitely not balloon-based-declarations-of-possession material.

The b*tch was talking while Olivia hung up the phone and ended the call. I looked at her surprised but didn't tell her anything. Her voice was annoying and she saved me from a boring discussion. "Do all your exes want to kill you? Or me?" She asked, raising her brow. "No one will hurt you. I won't let them touch a strand of your hair." I stared at the road. "Why are you so obsessed with me?" She asked me. "Because you love me," I responded and she laughed. "Usually, people say that they are obsessed because they think they love you. Is it so important for you to be loved?"

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.

“Now? I probably drink until I forget. Or until I hate him enough to stop caring.” “That doesn’t sound healthy.” I let the silence settle between us. The bar’s dim lights painted shadows on the floor, and my buzz was just strong enough to make everything blur at the edges. I leaned forward again, fingers toying with the condensation on my glass. “You ever get so obsessed with someone,” I murmured, “that it’s not even about them anymore? It’s about how they make you feel. How they pull out the ugliest parts of you, and you still keep crawling back like a sick little dog looking for scraps.”