THE OBSESSIVE FASCINATION

THE OBSESSIVE FASCINATION

emotionalwriter

4.9
Comment(s)
1.2K
View
11
Chapters

Louise looks like the perfect flawless woman. She has been in a relationship for a few years with Paul but feels their love is going down the drain after her meeting with Agnès. Louise struggles with her emotions that she would like to keep quiet. Paul proposes to her, and on the other side, Agnès puts pressure on her. What voice will she listen to?

THE OBSESSIVE FASCINATION Chapter 1 Don't be angry with me

I know what you're going to say, but trust me, I tried. And not just once. I timidly looked at myself several times in the mirror with a detached air, and I pronounced these three words which have the power of striking in the chest: "I leave you." I said them, I assure you. Quite loud even, in the hope that he hears them and accepts them. At 39, it might be about time. He cannot stay to contemplate this grumpy love that turns its back on him. Even an icy gust of wind doesn't dare to make me go towards it.

Have I given him too much? Am I this athlete who thinks he has no more strength at the end of the race? I had them, my quarter of hours of glory, my hours too, where I collected his sweat escaping from our desire combined in a double voice. But, precisely, I wonder: did I get too out of breath in this story? Have I lost my way? How can I find this breath of fresh air that once embraced me?

Stirring up the past is risky; I know that, but I need to understand. Where are our damp sheets, our sticky body, our throat that had only one desire: to jump on the first drop of water!

When he kisses me, I feel like I'm on a ship, but without the beautiful landscape rocked by daydreams. The urge to reject his face with a firm hand comes to me without being able to control myself. Why? And why must there be a why? Why justify this unbearable pleasure felt when your sweet tongue wandered between what I have most faithful, what keeps me company from morning to late at night? Why did I shout seven times without restraint? This breath that I thought buried or even lost in the middle of my existence has returned. It was sweet and strange at the same time. I do not know. I was like a tourist getting off the plane discovering new experiences for the first time.

Yesterday he got home from work early. He was well dressed, and immediately a dangerous thought crossed my mind. I wanted him to tell me something extraordinary, something insane. I believed it by clenching my fists in the hollow of my hips. His real estate agent costume gave him another form of refinement. I thought he was hiding a dark secret from me. I wanted to question him, shake his tie, tear it, yell at him, tell him to reveal to me what he was trying to hide from me. I came home. Believe me. I wish I had done more that night. The motivation was missing, like my questions. Usually, I'm the one questioning, cigarette in hand, spitting my smoke in the other's face and waiting for answers. I didn't have any questions, so I didn't get answers. No wonder.

I felt his scent waltz with a certain glee in the living room, and it held me back. Don't blame me if I failed. I had practiced in front of my mirror. I read that the mirror is a good exercise, a kind of companion who does not criticize, judge, lecture, even when you slip up. But tell me, why did I slip? Paul would appeal to any mother-in-law. Paul is one of those men you can count on when Kleenex is lacking, and the supermarket is double-locked, and the cashier sees you in tears and tells you to wait for it to open the following day. Paul is a man with a delicious character, like a treat that one would eat in secret for fear of being stolen. Paul is .... That's the problem, I think. Paul. Him.

I had thought many times about our beginnings when it was just him and me. The day when, just after using her angelically pallid sheets, we ran like crazy young people through the streets crowded with people with tasteless faces. We had read the sadness on their faces. An almost worrying feeling, it was so blatant. I don't think they understood anything about our happiness. They saw the whiteness of his teeth and the shadow of my dimples but remained cloistered in incomprehension. How could two young people run in the cool dawn without even feeling the cold tickle their nostrils? The pink of cheeks did not come from the coldness of the season but the richness of our emotions. Our love was bursting with power. It was a beautiful, living death. I was not afraid that day. I walked with the ease of a teacher repeating his lesson for the umpteenth time. I think I taunted some passers-by with my happiness at the corner of the lips. I'm ashamed when I think about it. Sometimes I hate myself, or rather I hate my reactions. I am like a cat. I am full of elegance and beauty but I am unpredictable.

You too were unpredictable. Don't blame me for blaming you, that wouldn't be fair. Just admit that I played and got trapped. But tell me, why did I accept this game? What was it going to bring me in the end? Experience the danger?

What is the point ? To see me asking for more? You know, I am starting to ask a thousand questions again and I am waiting for answers that I will not have because you are far away. You took my feverish desire away. But then, how is it possible that I get to feel you near me?

I don't know how to be reasonable. I have to repress myself, put tape on my mouth, maybe soap. I'm afraid Paul will guess my thoughts, even if basically I think that would help matters. Everything would be settled, we would no longer talk about it. All this would never have existed and we could go back?

Departures scare me. I see a comeback, just as I feel my relationship with Paul is getting back into its shell. So why ? Yesterday evening, I put on fine blue lingerie. He loves light blue. I let go of my hair as if to feel wilder, more alert, more connected. Fiasco! The fine lingerie, I took it off immediately after observing myself in the mirror. No, it's not me, I whispered to myself. I can not. It's dishonest and dishonesty would kill me. I don't want to kill myself because I still have things to go through but I feel that what was planned with Paul no longer has room on any page of any stationery calendar. It's scary when I think about it. And when I think of you, it scares me just as much.

Continue Reading

You'll also like

The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback

The Ghost Wife's Billion Dollar Tech Comeback

Huo Wuer
5.0

Today is October 14th, my birthday. I returned to New York after months away, dragging my suitcase through the biting wind, but the VIP pickup zone where my husband’s Maybach usually idled was empty. When I finally let myself into our Upper East Side penthouse, I didn’t find a cake or a "welcome home" banner. Instead, I found my husband, Caden, kneeling on the floor, helping our five-year-old daughter wrap a massive gift for my half-sister, Adalynn. Caden didn’t even look up when I walked in; he was too busy laughing with the girl who had already stolen my father’s legacy and was now moving in on my family. "Auntie Addie is a million times better than Mommy," my daughter Elara chirped, clutching a plush toy Caden had once forbidden me from buying for her. "Mommy is mean," she whispered loudly, while Caden just smirked, calling me a "drill sergeant" before whisking her off to Adalynn’s party without a second glance. Later that night, I saw a video Adalynn posted online where my husband and child laughed while mocking my "sensitive" nature, treating me like an inconvenient ghost in my own home. I had spent five years researching nutrition for Elara’s health and managing every detail of Caden’s empire, only to be discarded the moment I wasn't in the room. How could the man who set his safe combination to my birthday completely forget I even existed? The realization didn't break me; it turned me into ice. I didn't scream or beg for an explanation. I simply walked into the study, pulled out the divorce papers I’d drafted months ago, and took a black marker to the terms. I crossed out the alimony, the mansion, and even the custody clause—if they wanted a life without me, I would give them exactly what they asked for. I left my four-carat diamond ring on the console table and walked out into the rain with nothing but a heavily encrypted hard drive. The submissive Mrs. Holloway was gone, and "Ghost," the most lethal architect in the tech world, was finally back online to take back everything they thought I’d forgotten.

The Surgeon's Vow: Healing My Billionaire Husband

The Surgeon's Vow: Healing My Billionaire Husband

Qing Shui
4.3

I sat in the gray, airless room of the New York State Department of Corrections, my knuckles white as the Warden delivered the news. "Parole denied." My father, Howard Sterling, had forged new evidence of financial crimes to keep me behind bars. He walked into the room, smelling of expensive cologne, and tossed a black folder onto the steel table. It was a marriage contract for Lucas Kensington, a billionaire currently lying in a vegetative state in the ICU. "Sign it. You walk out today." I laughed at the idea of being sold to a "corpse" until Howard slid a grainy photo toward me. It showed a toddler with a crescent-moon birthmark—the son Howard told me had died in an incubator five years ago. He smiled and told me the boy's safety depended entirely on my cooperation. I was thrust into the Kensington estate, where the family treated me like a "drowned rat." They dressed me in mothball-scented rags and mocked my status, unaware that I was monitoring their every move. I watched the cousin, Julian, openly waiting for Lucas to die to inherit the empire, while the doctors prepared to sign the death certificate. I didn't understand why my father would lie about my son’s death for years, or what kind of monsters would use a child as a bargaining chip. The injustice of it burned in my chest as I realized I was just a pawn in a game of old money and blood. As the monitors began to flatline and the family started to celebrate their inheritance, I locked the door and reached into the hem of my dress. I pulled out the sharpened silver wires I’d fashioned in the prison workshop. They thought they bought a submissive convict, but they actually invited "The Saint"—the world’s most dangerous underground surgeon—into their home. "Wake up, Lucas. You owe me a life." I wasn't there to be a bride; I was there to wake the dead and burn their empire to the ground.

Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father

Flash Marriage To My Best Friend's Father

Madel Cerda
4.5

I was once the heiress to the Solomon empire, but after it crumbled, I became the "charity case" ward of the wealthy Hyde family. For years, I lived in their shadows, clinging to the promise that Anson Hyde would always be my protector. That promise shattered when Anson walked into the ballroom with Claudine Chapman on his arm. Claudine was the girl who had spent years making my life a living hell, and now Anson was announcing their engagement to the world. The humiliation was instant. Guests sneered at my cheap dress, and a waiter intentionally sloshed champagne over me, knowing I was a nobody. Anson didn't even look my way; he was too busy whispering possessively to his new fiancée. I was a ghost in my own home, watching my protector celebrate with my tormentor. The betrayal burned. I realized I wasn't a ward; I was a pawn Anson had kept on a shelf until he found a better trade. I had no money, no allies, and a legal trust fund that Anson controlled with a flick of his wrist. Fleeing to the library, I stumbled into Dallas Koch—a titan of industry and my best friend’s father. He was a wall of cold, absolute power that even the Hydes feared. "Marry me," I blurted out, desperate to find a shield Anson couldn't climb. Dallas didn't laugh. He pulled out a marriage agreement and a heavy fountain pen. "Sign," he commanded, his voice a low rumble. "But if you walk out that door with me, you never go back." I signed my name, trading my life for the only man dangerous enough to keep me safe.

Chapters
Read Now
Download Book
THE OBSESSIVE FASCINATION THE OBSESSIVE FASCINATION emotionalwriter LGBT+
“Louise looks like the perfect flawless woman. She has been in a relationship for a few years with Paul but feels their love is going down the drain after her meeting with Agnès. Louise struggles with her emotions that she would like to keep quiet. Paul proposes to her, and on the other side, Agnès puts pressure on her. What voice will she listen to?”
1

Chapter 1 Don't be angry with me

05/05/2021

2

Chapter 2 Make our love blossom again

05/05/2021

3

Chapter 3 Don't live in our memories anymore

05/05/2021

4

Chapter 4 Deal with it

05/05/2021

5

Chapter 5 Don't say anything

05/05/2021

6

Chapter 6 Devour me

07/05/2021

7

Chapter 7 Don't worry

09/05/2021

8

Chapter 8 Enjoy your freedom

11/05/2021

9

Chapter 9 Don't overanalyze

14/05/2021

10

Chapter 10 Believe in miracles

18/05/2021

11

Chapter 11 Don't knock at the wrong door

22/05/2021