His Obsession, My Betrayal

His Obsession, My Betrayal

Gavin

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One year with David Chen felt like paradise after Jake, but love, I learned, is a master illusionist. I thought I' d found solace in David' s arms, after my long-term boyfriend Jake unceremoniously dropped me for his high school sweetheart, Emily. Then, on our first anniversary, hunting for a rare comic, I stumbled upon David' s secret studio-not a creative haven, but a chilling shrine to Emily Carter, plastered floor to ceiling with her portraits. Hundreds of his letters lay scattered, each a meticulously dated testament to a seven-year obsession, detailing how he used my heartbreak, my trust, to orchestrate Jake and Emily' s reunion. I wasn' t a girlfriend; I was a pawn in his sick game, a means to an end for the woman he truly loved to get back with my ex. The betrayal was a violation, worse than Jake' s, a cold, calculated masterpiece of manipulation that turned my year of healing into a cruel deception. I had to escape, to sever this twisted knot of lies, and the only way out was to call my parents and accept the arranged marriage I' d always laughed at. Just as the decision formed, David' s cheerful voice echoed through the studio, followed by the shattering sound of groceries, and his fake smile dissolving as he saw the truth laid bare. He tried to smooth it over, playing the concerned lover, until I revealed my drastic plan: "I' m moving to New York. I'm getting married." His dismissive smirk was quickly replaced by panic as Emily Carter herself appeared, walking calmly into his web of lies, confirming his deception. Later, doubled over in agony, suffering from a ruptured appendix, I called him for help-the man I thought loved me. He hung up, choosing to tend to Emily' s "headache" over my very real, life-threatening pain, dismissing my screams as manipulative drama. The words "You're just trying to get my attention" echoed as my phone died, the realization slicing through me: he would rather let me die than displease her. Finally, face-to-face in the hospital, he saw me. He saw the IV, the monitors, the reality of my near-death while he' d coddled his fragile Emily just feet away, oblivious. Yet, his gaze hardened, turning from me back to her, and he walked away, promising to return, a promise I knew was as hollow as his love. I fled to New York, rebuilding my life, forging a new identity, finding unexpected peace with my arranged fiancé, Ethan. But the past wasn' t done. David found me.

Introduction

One year with David Chen felt like paradise after Jake, but love, I learned, is a master illusionist.

I thought I' d found solace in David' s arms, after my long-term boyfriend Jake unceremoniously dropped me for his high school sweetheart, Emily.

Then, on our first anniversary, hunting for a rare comic, I stumbled upon David' s secret studio-not a creative haven, but a chilling shrine to Emily Carter, plastered floor to ceiling with her portraits.

Hundreds of his letters lay scattered, each a meticulously dated testament to a seven-year obsession, detailing how he used my heartbreak, my trust, to orchestrate Jake and Emily' s reunion.

I wasn' t a girlfriend; I was a pawn in his sick game, a means to an end for the woman he truly loved to get back with my ex.

The betrayal was a violation, worse than Jake' s, a cold, calculated masterpiece of manipulation that turned my year of healing into a cruel deception.

I had to escape, to sever this twisted knot of lies, and the only way out was to call my parents and accept the arranged marriage I' d always laughed at.

Just as the decision formed, David' s cheerful voice echoed through the studio, followed by the shattering sound of groceries, and his fake smile dissolving as he saw the truth laid bare.

He tried to smooth it over, playing the concerned lover, until I revealed my drastic plan: "I' m moving to New York. I'm getting married."

His dismissive smirk was quickly replaced by panic as Emily Carter herself appeared, walking calmly into his web of lies, confirming his deception.

Later, doubled over in agony, suffering from a ruptured appendix, I called him for help-the man I thought loved me.

He hung up, choosing to tend to Emily' s "headache" over my very real, life-threatening pain, dismissing my screams as manipulative drama.

The words "You're just trying to get my attention" echoed as my phone died, the realization slicing through me: he would rather let me die than displease her.

Finally, face-to-face in the hospital, he saw me.

He saw the IV, the monitors, the reality of my near-death while he' d coddled his fragile Emily just feet away, oblivious.

Yet, his gaze hardened, turning from me back to her, and he walked away, promising to return, a promise I knew was as hollow as his love.

I fled to New York, rebuilding my life, forging a new identity, finding unexpected peace with my arranged fiancé, Ethan.

But the past wasn' t done.

David found me.

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