My Obsessed Brother-In-Law

Kim's POV

The first thing I felt was the surrounding weight. I felt hugged but it was not comfortable.

My eyes fluttered open, and a cold rush of panic shot through me as I took in my surroundings. A plane? A luxury plane?

I tried to sit up, but the seatbelt locked me in place, jerking me backward. My head hit the headrest with a dull thud. I wasn't dreaming.

I gasped, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Where's my mother?" My voice trembled. "Why am I on this plane?"

A man, nearly as old as my father, reached out, brushing the back of his fingers against my cheek in an unsettlingly gentle gesture.

"It's okay, honey," he murmured. Your mother couldn't come with you to your new home. But she promised she'd visit soon."

A woman in her late 60s, with a warm expression, stepped forward. She patted my head as though I were a child. "And that's not all, sweetheart. From now on, you have another mother, me. Your daughter-in-law."

In law? I'm 22. Why are they talking about marriage?

I blinked, her words slow to register. No. That wasn't possible. One moment, I was getting ready for a wedding, someone's wedding. This can't be right. I'm supposed to be eating cheetos and watching TV, not married.

I turned to the woman. "Where is my mom?" My voive was calm, though I was scared. "Why am I on this plane? We were going to a wedding. Where are you taking me?"

Silence. A heavy, suffocating silence as they exchanged glances.

Then, a deep voice spoke up. "You are my wife now," a man said.

I turned my head sharply, my wide eyes locking onto the man across from me. He was younger than the others, but still far older than me. Sharp features. Cold eyes. A stranger.

"You'll be living with me in my home country," he continued smoothly. "Cuba."

I turned to the window in horror. The sky. We were already in the air.

My stomach twisted. I fumbled at my sides, searching for my phone. My bag. My cards there was nothing.

I had no way to contact my Dad. My fucking mum sold me?

How did I get here?

...........

Morning.

Kim! Wake up, you lazy young lady! Have you already forgotten what day it is?"

A sharp voice tore through my dreams, dragging me back to reality. My mother.

I groaned, burying my face deeper into my pillow, clinging to the last remnants of sleep. The air was still thick with morning stillness, the sky outside a dull shade of blue-too early for anyone to be this enthusiastic.

"Ugh, Mama, it's six in the morning! "Have you no mercy?" My voice was muffled against the fabric as I tried to sink back into oblivion. But before I could reclaim sleep, my comforter was yanked off me with ruthless efficiency.

Cold air hit my skin, making me wake up.

My mother stood by my bed, arms crossed, a smug expression on her face as if she had just conquered a great battle.

"Get up," she commanded. "You can't sleep this late in my house."

I scowled. "Oh really? Then maybe you should have left me with Dad instead of begging him to send me here. "Now that I'm back, you're already showing your claws." My tone was sharp, edged with frustration.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she composed herself quickly. "We have a wedding to attend. Get up, bathe, and get dressed. "I'm taking you to the salon-you need a full spa treatment before we go shopping for a dress."

At that, my mood lifted. "Fine," I sighed, stretching lazily. "But I'm picking up my own shoes. No one gets a say in that."

She rolled her eyes. "Your father has turned you into a spoiled brat."

I grinned. "And I love him for it."

I threw my arms around her, inhaling the faint scent of vanilla and roses. A scent I should have known my whole life, but didn't. A scent that should have been home, but felt like a stranger.

She sighed. "Your father won't always be around to protect you, Kim. One day, you'll have to learn to stand on your own."

I pulled back and met her gaze, my voice unwavering. "Dad will make sure I marry someone who takes care of me, just like he always has."

If only I had known then how unpredictable life could be.

I stepped into the bathroom and let out a quiet sigh. It wasn't nearly as grand as the one in my father's mansion, but it was nice-**a detail I knew my mother had put effort into, even if I wasn't ready to appreciate it.**

She had decorated my room just the way I liked, as if trying to make up for lost time. But a comfortable bed and pretty walls didn't change the years we had spent apart.

My parents separated the day I was born. Most would assume it was because my father didn't want a daughter. But the truth? **It was my mother who didn't want me.** She wanted a son, and when I wasn't the child she had hoped for, she asked for a divorce. My father fought to keep our family together, but she never looked back.

And so, I never knew her. Not really.

My father raised me alone, and he was more than enough. He was my safe place, my first love, my everything. He never remarried, never left me in the care of nannies. He balanced business and fatherhood effortlessly, always welcoming me with a warm smile, no matter how busy he was. They say you can smell heaven on a mother. But for me, **he** was my heaven.

When the court letter arrived, my father and I were shocked. "After all these years, she suddenly wanted me here.I was ready to refuse, but my father-always the kind one-convinced me to come. "She's still your mother, Kim. Give her a chance," he said.

So here I was.

I turned off the water and stepped out of the tub, wrapping a towel around myself. My grandmother had always taught me to take care of my long hair. She brushed it every day, trimmed it herself, and never let anyone else touch it. *Hair holds memories, * she used to say. *Take care of it, and it will take care of you.*

Once my hair was dry, I braided it neatly and headed for my closet. I pulled out a simple pink dress and paired it with black long boots. **I liked keeping things simple.**

I grabbed my clutch and reached for my phone-only to realize it was missing.

Frowning, I turned my room upside down. "Mama! "Have you seen my phone?" I called out, frustration creeping into my voice.

I needed to hear my father's voice. I always called him in the morning-it was my routine, my comfort.

A loud gasp came from the doorway. "Oh my God, Kim! "What have you done to this room?" My mother stared at the mess with wide eyes.

I straightened, unimpressed. "You're worried about the room? *Where is my phone?*"

She sighed dramatically before reaching into her purse and pulling it out. "I thought I'd keep it safe. But no, of course, you don't even trust me with this, do you?"

I took it from her, rolling my eyes. "I trust the people who've actually been in my life, Mama. I've spent eighteen years with Dad-he's the one who raised me. If you want to throw taunts, I can throw them right back."

Without waiting for her response, I turned on my heel and walked toward the stairs, phone in hand.

I needed to hear my father's voice. Even here, in this house that was supposed to be home, he was still the only person who felt like family.

Kim's POV

After nearly three hours at the spa, I was more than ready to leave. I stepped out of the private room, feeling refreshed but restless. The moment I entered the lobby, I spotted my mother deep in conversation with a woman I didn't recognize.

As soon as she saw me, she quickly excused herself and hurried over. Together, we walked toward the reception desk.

"How much do I owe?" I asked the receptionist, but she wasn't paying attention to me. Instead, her gaze was fixed on my mother-something that made me pause.

I turned to look at my mother, and to my surprise, she was staring right back at the receptionist, her expression unreadable.

I snapped my fingers in front of their faces. "Hello? Earth to you both?"

They blinked rapidly, shaking themselves out of their silent exchange.

Growing impatient, I let out a sigh. "Do you want me to pay, or should I just walk out and let your manager deduct it from your paycheck?" I asked the receptionist dryly.

Her jaw clenched briefly before she forced a tight-lipped smile. Without even asking for my name, she typed it onto the computer. That was odd. This was my first time at this salon. I didn't live in this city-how did she already know who I was?

She printed the receipt and handed it to me. I gave her my smart card, watching her carefully.

"Ma'am, please sign these forms," she said, pushing a document toward me. Since this is your first visit, we'll create a VIP customer card for you. You just need to sign up here, and you'll receive the card in a week."

I frowned and glanced at my mother.

She forced a small smile and nodded encouragingly, but something about the way she did it felt off. Too forced. Too nervous.

I turned back to the register, scanning the papers.

"You don't have to read it," my mother said quickly, her voice unusually high-pitched. "I have already gone through everything and filled in the details for you. Just sign it so we can get going."

Now I was really suspicious.

Her smile was tight, her fingers fidgeting slightly at her sides.

I exhaled slowly. **She was trying so hard to act normal, but something wasn't right.**

Still, I didn't want to overthink things. Maybe she was just trying to bond with me before my week here was over. Maybe this was her way of making up for lost time.

Without another word, I signed the papers and handed them back. The receptionist thanked me, but I didn't stick around. I was already walking toward the door, not waiting for my mother.

---

After the salon, she insisted we go shopping. Apparently, my wardrobe wasn't *suitable* enough for the upcoming wedding, even though I already had more than enough clothes.

At first, I brushed off her behavior, but the longer we shopped, the more uneasy I felt. There was something about the way she was acting today-too eager, too desperate-that unsettled me.

I tried to ignore it. If it weren't for the promise I made to my dad, I would've walked right out of that store and booked the next flight home. **Not to this small house my mother lived in. Not to these strangers I was forced to call family.**

She picked out a white dress for me-an unusual choice, considering no one but the bride was supposed to wear white.

"Are you sure?" I asked, raising a skeptical brow.

She clasped her hands together. "It will look perfect on you, sweetheart. Just trust me."

I rolled my eyes but, in the end, I bought it. Along with matching shoes and accessories.

Once we were done, we got back into the car and headed home.

For a moment, I considered calling my dad, telling him about everything I bought. It was a small habit of mine-sharing things with him, no matter how big or small.

But before I could dial his number, my mother spoke up.

"So, tell me," she said, glancing at me, "what are your hobbies? What kind of music do you like? Do you have any favorite books?"

I hesitated. She was really trying.

And despite the unease gnawing at me, I found myself answering every single question she asked.