Gabriel's Obsession

Love and Conflicts

Amelia's POV

I lay curled on the bed, silent tears spilling onto the pillow, my emotions unraveling like a storm-tossed sea. The cruel words of Gabriel's mother still echoed in my mind, laced with venom, replaying over and over until they carved deep wounds into my heart. How could someone be so callous? So effortlessly cruel?

My gaze remained fixed on the window, where the world outside blurred into a hazy watercolor of light and shadows. It felt distant—almost unreal—offering a fleeting illusion of escape from the torment pressing down on my chest.

Then, a soft click broke through the silence. The door creaked open, but I didn't move. I didn't lift my head. I barely registered the familiar footsteps approaching.

"Amelia?"

Gabriel's voice, usually a source of comfort, barely reached me through the fog of my despair. I let it wash over me, distant and muffled, as if it belonged to someone speaking from the other end of a long, dark tunnel. I knew I should respond, but I couldn't find the strength. If I tried to speak, I feared my voice would betray me, cracking beneath the weight of my sorrow.

The bed dipped slightly as he sat beside me. A warm hand hovered near my back, hesitant but gentle.

"What happened?"

His voice was softer now, edged with concern. He rarely used my full name unless he was truly worried. It should have soothed me. It should have made me feel safe. And yet, beneath the sorrow, something else simmered—a quiet, festering anger.

At him.

At myself.

I wanted to turn into his embrace, to feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my cheek and let him erase the pain. But I also wanted to push him away, to demand why he hadn't shielded me from this, why he had let his mother's words slice through me unchecked.

The emotions warred inside me, tangled and chaotic. And so, I said nothing.

I simply lay there, staring into the distance, waiting for him to understand the storm raging within me.

The silence between us thickened, heavy and suffocating. I kept my gaze locked on some distant point beyond the window, unwilling—or perhaps unable—to meet his eyes. The weight in my chest was unbearable, a tangled mess of emotions that refused to be sorted. His mother's words had been cruel, sharpened like daggers, and though I wanted to brush them off, they had carved deep into my heart, leaving behind an ache I couldn't ignore.

I had known she was a woman of sharp edges, that her approval was something I might never earn. And yet, her venom had found its mark, burrowing under my skin, planting a seed of doubt that I didn't want to take root.

"Amelia, talk to me, baby," Gabriel's voice was softer now, laced with something raw—vulnerability, maybe even guilt.

I could feel his gaze on me, searching, trying to reach past the walls I had thrown up in my pain. When I didn't respond, he moved closer, his warmth seeping into the space between us. His touch was hesitant at first, then tender, as his fingers brushed against my damp cheek, wiping away a stray tear.

The gesture sent a shiver through me.

How could I be so angry, so hurt, and yet still crave the comfort of his arms?

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the tears to stop, but they betrayed me, slipping past my lashes, one after another. I wanted to tell him how I felt, how his mother's words had made me feel small, unwelcome—as if I were nothing more than a passing phase in his life, something temporary. I wanted to demand why he hadn't shielded me, why he had let her get away with it. But my voice felt trapped in my throat, locked behind the lump of emotions swelling inside me.