เข้าสู่ระบบแชร์
Obsession
ปรับปรุงล่าสุด:
2025-03-30 09:44:09
บทที่เกี่ยวข้อง
Divorced My CEO Husband, He Came Begging The Past Feeling
MayaI woke with a start, disoriented by the unfamiliar shadows cast across rough-hewn beams. For a moment, panic seized me—where the hell was I? Then the scent registered: pine, wood smoke, and something else—something that tugged at memories buried so deep they felt more like dreams than lived experience.The cabin. My cabin.Sunlight filtered through the windows I'd wiped down yesterday, catching dust particles that still danced in the early morning light despite my cleaning efforts. The fire I'd built last night had died to embers, leaving a slight chill in the air. Now, in the revealing daylight, I saw my childhood home properly, the areas I hadn't managed to clean yet standing in stark contrast to the parts I'd already restored.It was smaller than I remembered. Childhood memories have a way of making everything seem larger, more expansive. But the essentials were exactly as they'd lived in my mind: the stone fireplace dominating one wall, the rough wooden table beneath the east
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I spent the next several hours continuing the cleaning I'd started yesterday—more sweeping, more scrubbing, removing sheets from the bedroom furniture I hadn't gotten to yet. After more fiddling with the water system, I finally located the main valve outside and, after several attempts, managed to get the old pipes to deliver rust-colored water that eventually ran clear. The electricity was another matter—apparently disconnected long ago—but I'd come prepared with battery-powered lanterns and the camping stove I'd used last night.By mid-afternoon, I was filthy, sweaty, and oddly satisfied. The bedroom was now reasonably clean to match the progress I'd made in the main room yesterday, the bathroom was functional if primitive, and I'd aired out more of the musty odor. My arms ached from scrubbing and carrying water, but the physical exhaustion felt good—clarifying, somehow.I dragged an old wooden chair onto the front porch and collapsed into it, watching as the sun began its descent t
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Two weeks passed in a blur. I'd fallen into a routine that felt both new and achingly familiar. Wake with the sun. Coffee on the porch. Hike the overgrown trails that surrounded the cabin until my legs ached. Sketch whatever caught my eye—a particular twist of tree branch, the pattern of lichen on stone, the way light filtered through pine needles. Then work with glass until my fingers were raw and my back screamed from hunching over the flame.I'd cleaned out the workshop properly now, scrubbing years of dust and grime from every surface. I'd cataloged all the supplies, surprised by how much Mami Lulu had left behind. Hundreds of glass rods in every imaginable color. Tools in pristine condition, despite the years of neglect. A small kiln that, miraculously, still worked when I plugged it into the generator I'd bought during my first supply run to town.The cabin itself had transformed too. I'd scrubbed every surface, repaired what I could with my limited skills, and arranged my meage
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I spent the afternoon gathering supplies, then worked through the night preparing pieces for the fair. I created six more complete jewelry sets, each built around those distinctive spiral beads. By dawn, I had enough inventory to fill a small display, if not a full booth.I arrived at the square precisely at eight, carrying a folding table I'd found in the cabin's shed and a wooden tray that displayed my pieces against dark velvet. A few other vendors were already setting up, arranging pottery or paintings or handwoven textiles. Eleanor pointed me to a corner spot beneath a massive oak tree, the dappled shade perfect for displaying jewelry without harsh glare."You have your own table. Good." Her tone was clipped, but not unfriendly. "Need anything else?""I'm all set, thanks."She nodded and moved on, but I noticed her watching me from time to time as I arranged my pieces. Something about her attention felt oddly specific, though I couldn't place why.I wondered if she recognized me.
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Maya's POV I stared at the screen, my fingers digging into the worn fabric of the couch. The leather was cool against my skin, a stark contrast to the terrible heat rising in my chest. Three years of marriage, and this is what it had come to. There he was, my husband Daniel, his arm wrapped around Fiona's waist like she was his prized possession. The camera loved them, capturing every detail of their picture-perfect smiles. The studio lights gleamed off their teeth, their eyes, the jewelry adorning Fiona's neck. That was mine, she was flaunting my design as hers. I could still remember the day Daniel and I met. It was an arranged marriage, set up by our parents to unite our families. I had been so naive then, thinking love would naturally follow. How wrong I'd been. "I'm the luckiest man alive," Daniel gushed, his eyes never leaving Fiona. "To have this beautiful woman by my side." My stomach churned, a nauseating mix of anger and despair. The necklace glittering around
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Maya's POV "Maya, what did you do?" Daniel's voice cut through the room, sharp and accusatory."Daniel, please, let me explain—" The words tumbled from my mouth, desperate and clumsy.But Daniel's eyes were fixed on Fiona, his hands roaming over her arms, her back, checking for injuries. "Are you hurt? Did she harm you?"Fiona pressed herself against him a little too much, her breasts heaving and bouncing with exaggerated sobs. The torn dress gaped open, leaving view of a soft tantalizing mound of flesh. I watched as Daniel's gaze flickered downward for a moment before he pulled her closer, enveloping her in his arms."It's okay, you're safe now," he murmured into her hair, his tone sickeningly gentle.I stood there, frozen, as Daniel comforted Fiona. The familiar ache of betrayal settled in my chest, heavy and cold.Finally, Daniel turned to me, his eyes hard. "Well? Are you going to explain yourself?"I swallowed hard. "I didn't do anything. Fiona, tell him—""Oh, Daniel," Fiona int
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Maya's POV The silence that followed my outburst was deafening. I could almost hear the gears turning in their heads, processing what I'd just said. Then, all at once, the room exploded."Have you lost your mind?" My mother's shrill voice cut through the air like a knife. Her face, usually carefully composed, was contorted with rage. "After everything we've done for you?" My father's response was quieter, but no less cutting. "Ungrateful," he spat, his eyes cold and hard. "We gave you everything. A home, a family, a future. And this is how you repay us?" Their words hit me physically, each one chipping away at the resolve I'd built up. I opened my mouth to respond, but my mother wasn't finished. "You know what? Maybe we made a mistake bringing you back," she hissed. "Our real daughter wouldn't be this stupid, this selfish." I flinched, her words cutting deeper than I wanted to admit. Real daughter. As if I was some cheap imitation, a knockoff they'd accidentally brought home. "If
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Maya's POV The room buzzed with murmurs as Fiona stumbled through her explanation. From the corner of my eye, I saw my parents exchanging worried glances. My mother's perfectly manicured nails dug into my father's arm as she whispered urgently in his ear. A moment later, they were at my side. "Maya," my father hissed, his breath hot against my ear. "Get up there and help her. Now." I shook my head, a small act of defiance that sent a thrill through me. "No. This is her moment, isn't it? Let her handle it." My mother's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Don't be stupid, girl. Do you want your precious adoptive mother to suffer?"My blood ran cold. "What are you talking about?""It would be such a shame if we couldn't afford her medical bills anymore," my father said, his voice dripping with false concern. "After all, quality care is so expensive these days."The threat hung in the air between us, as tangible as the pearls around my mother's neck. I swallowed hard, memories of my adoptive m
ปรับปรุงล่าสุด : 2024-09-14
บทล่าสุด
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I spent the afternoon gathering supplies, then worked through the night preparing pieces for the fair. I created six more complete jewelry sets, each built around those distinctive spiral beads. By dawn, I had enough inventory to fill a small display, if not a full booth.I arrived at the square precisely at eight, carrying a folding table I'd found in the cabin's shed and a wooden tray that displayed my pieces against dark velvet. A few other vendors were already setting up, arranging pottery or paintings or handwoven textiles. Eleanor pointed me to a corner spot beneath a massive oak tree, the dappled shade perfect for displaying jewelry without harsh glare."You have your own table. Good." Her tone was clipped, but not unfriendly. "Need anything else?""I'm all set, thanks."She nodded and moved on, but I noticed her watching me from time to time as I arranged my pieces. Something about her attention felt oddly specific, though I couldn't place why.I wondered if she recognized me.
Divorced My CEO Husband, He Came Begging Getting a Booth
Two weeks passed in a blur. I'd fallen into a routine that felt both new and achingly familiar. Wake with the sun. Coffee on the porch. Hike the overgrown trails that surrounded the cabin until my legs ached. Sketch whatever caught my eye—a particular twist of tree branch, the pattern of lichen on stone, the way light filtered through pine needles. Then work with glass until my fingers were raw and my back screamed from hunching over the flame.I'd cleaned out the workshop properly now, scrubbing years of dust and grime from every surface. I'd cataloged all the supplies, surprised by how much Mami Lulu had left behind. Hundreds of glass rods in every imaginable color. Tools in pristine condition, despite the years of neglect. A small kiln that, miraculously, still worked when I plugged it into the generator I'd bought during my first supply run to town.The cabin itself had transformed too. I'd scrubbed every surface, repaired what I could with my limited skills, and arranged my meage
Divorced My CEO Husband, He Came Begging Trying Again
I spent the next several hours continuing the cleaning I'd started yesterday—more sweeping, more scrubbing, removing sheets from the bedroom furniture I hadn't gotten to yet. After more fiddling with the water system, I finally located the main valve outside and, after several attempts, managed to get the old pipes to deliver rust-colored water that eventually ran clear. The electricity was another matter—apparently disconnected long ago—but I'd come prepared with battery-powered lanterns and the camping stove I'd used last night.By mid-afternoon, I was filthy, sweaty, and oddly satisfied. The bedroom was now reasonably clean to match the progress I'd made in the main room yesterday, the bathroom was functional if primitive, and I'd aired out more of the musty odor. My arms ached from scrubbing and carrying water, but the physical exhaustion felt good—clarifying, somehow.I dragged an old wooden chair onto the front porch and collapsed into it, watching as the sun began its descent t
Divorced My CEO Husband, He Came Begging The Past Feeling
MayaI woke with a start, disoriented by the unfamiliar shadows cast across rough-hewn beams. For a moment, panic seized me—where the hell was I? Then the scent registered: pine, wood smoke, and something else—something that tugged at memories buried so deep they felt more like dreams than lived experience.The cabin. My cabin.Sunlight filtered through the windows I'd wiped down yesterday, catching dust particles that still danced in the early morning light despite my cleaning efforts. The fire I'd built last night had died to embers, leaving a slight chill in the air. Now, in the revealing daylight, I saw my childhood home properly, the areas I hadn't managed to clean yet standing in stark contrast to the parts I'd already restored.It was smaller than I remembered. Childhood memories have a way of making everything seem larger, more expansive. But the essentials were exactly as they'd lived in my mind: the stone fireplace dominating one wall, the rough wooden table beneath the east
Divorced My CEO Husband, He Came Begging Obsession
AlexI made it to my car before my composure cracked. Sitting behind the wheel, I slammed my palm against it hard enough to hurt, cursing under my breath. I'd handled that all wrong. Again.The look on Maya's face when I admitted hiring a PI—pure betrayal. Rage. Fear. All justified.I started the engine but didn't move, just sat there staring up at the lights of her apartment building. She'd tried to slap me. Again. I couldn't blame her."Not investigating you anymore." Christ. As if stopping was some kind of favor I'd done her. No wonder she'd exploded.The envelope of evidence sat on the passenger seat where I'd placed a second copy before heading up to her apartment. I'd known she might destroy the first one. Might not believe me. Might throw me out.I'd been right about all of it, and still managed to fuck up the execution completely.The dashboard clock read 8:47 PM. Not even nine, but I felt as if I'd aged a decade in the last forty minutes. I pulled away from the curb, forcing
Divorced My CEO Husband, He Came Begging The Mountain Cabin
I slept poorly that night, dreams shifting between the peaceful cabin workshop and nightmarish scenarios where faceless figures stood watching through windows, calculating, waiting.By dawn, I'd made my decision. I would go to the mountains, to the cabin where I'd been truly happy. I would seek answers on my own terms, without Alex's theories coloring my perceptions or Daniel's threats hanging over me.I finished packing quickly, loaded my car, and left a message for Grandfather explaining my need for a brief leave of absence. He'd understand—might even approve of the strategic retreat while Daniel's legal situation developed.As I drove toward the mountains the next morning, I kept checking my rearview mirror, unsure if I was afraid of being followed or being alone with these new thoughts.
Divorced My CEO Husband, He Came Begging Not Anymore
That night in my apartment, unable to sleep again, I opened my laptop and did something I'd been avoiding—I searched for our old address in the mountains. The cabin wasn't technically ours; Mami Lulu had rented it for years from an elderly couple who'd never bothered to raise the price or ask questions about the woman raising a child in the remote location.To my shock, the property appeared in current real estate listings. FOR SALE: Rustic 2BR Mountain Cabin with Workshop. The photos showed a structure slightly more weathered than in my memories but essentially unchanged—the wooden porch, the stone chimney, the clearing surrounded by tall pines.The coincidence felt significant, almost supernatural. I'd been dreaming of the cabin for weeks, and now it was available, as if waiting for me to return.Witho
Divorced My CEO Husband, He Came Begging Dealing with Trauma
The glass rod glowed orange-red under the flame, softening until it drooped like honey. I twisted it carefully around the metal mandrel, just as Mami Lulu had taught me."Steady hands," her voice came from behind me. "Let the glass tell you what it wants to be."The small workshop smelled of propane and hot glass, with undertones of the pine forest surrounding our cabin. Sunlight streamed through the windows, catching dust motes and turning them golden. The rough-hewn wooden walls felt solid and permanent around me."There," I said, holding up the mandrel to show her the perfect round bead I'd formed. Blue glass with swirls of green, like the deep pools in the creek behind our cabin.Mami Lulu smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "Beautiful, mija. Now let it cool slowly."I placed the mandrel in the cooling rack, satisfaction warming my chest. Through the open window, I could hear the creek bubbling over rocks, the rustling of pine needles in the breeze, the distant call of a ha
Divorced My CEO Husband, He Came Begging Break In
I spent the rest of Sunday at Mami Lulu's bedside, reading to her unresponsive form from design magazines, describing the gala and its aftermath. The nurses said talking to unresponsive patients could help, that they might hear even if they couldn't respond. I chose to believe it, needing some connection to the woman who had truly raised me.Evening found me back at my apartment, reviewing the briefing materials Grandfather's assistant had sent over. Board member profiles, financial summaries, pending contracts—hundreds of pages of information I needed to absorb before Thursday.My phone buzzed with a text from Troy: Dinner? I have gossip about the industry fallout.I agreed, grateful for the break and the company. Troy arrived with Thai food and a bottle of wine, settling cross-legged on my couch as he unpacked containers."It's deliciously messy out there," he reported gleefully. "The industry is completely split. Old-guard designers are clutching their pearls over your 'violent out
