Gabriel's Obsession

Love and Conflicts

Amelia's POV

 I lay in bed, overcome by tears, my emotions flowing like a torrential river. The venomous words his mother had uttered continued to echo in my mind, leaving a searing imprint. How could someone be so callous and hurtful? My gaze was fixed on the outside scenery, the view beyond the windowpane serving as a temporary escape from the pain that gnawed at my heart. The world outside seemed to blur as if I were being transported away from the torment within.

The soft click of the door registered in my ears, but I couldn't summon the strength to lift my gaze or acknowledge the presence on the other side. Gabriel's voice filled the room, a greeting that usually brought comfort, yet now I felt too overwhelmed to respond. I allowed his words to wash over me, letting his presence blend into the background. The emotional turmoil was simply too much to bear, and I was teetering on the edge of my endurance. Even a raised voice would be enough to shatter whatever fragile composure I had left.

"Amelia, what happened?" His words carried a weight of concern, his tone serious and focused. He used my full name when he was genuinely worried, a gesture that never went unnoticed. I felt the bed shift slightly as he took a seat beside me. A part of me yearned to lean into his embrace, to find solace in his arms as he whispered soothing words to chase away the pain. But another part of me was angry, disappointed at him, though it was a storm within myself that I couldn't articulate.

Unspoken tension hung in the air as I remained silent, my gaze locked onto some distant point outside the window. The heaviness in my heart was palpable, a mix of the words his mother had spat at me and my own frustration at him. I knew his mother was a woman of sharp edges, but her words had cut deeper than I wanted to admit. His mother's personality was something I could handle, yet the seed of doubt had been planted, and it fueled my unease.

"Amelia, talk to me, baby," his voice now carried a gentler timbre, a hint of vulnerability. I could feel his eyes on me, his concern tangible. He reached out to me with the kind of tenderness that had drawn me to him in the first place. But right now, I was grappling with a whirlwind of emotions—hurt, confusion, and a tinge of anger. I wished I could articulate my feelings, explain the turmoil that waged within me, but my voice felt trapped in my chest, and the tears still flowed, unbidden.

In the midst of my turmoil, I felt a delicate touch on my cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. His hand was warm against my skin, and despite my internal struggle, I couldn't deny the comfort his presence brought. A mixture of emotions surged within me—anger, hurt, but also a longing for his understanding. I wanted to lean into his embrace, to find solace in his arms, yet I was trapped in a tangle of conflicting feelings.

"I'd appreciate it if you could give me some space, Gabriel. Right now, I'd rather not engage in a conversation," I replied with a touch of defensiveness, my gaze firmly locked on his. His concerned eyes bore into me, but I chose to dismiss it, my emotional state hardly conducive to constructive dialogue.

"Please, share with me. I can see you're distressed, especially directed at me. I can't stand seeing you like this," he implored gently. His words conveyed a sincerity that made me want to open up, but my emotions were tangled and knotted, making it difficult to articulate them.

"It's about my mother, isn't it? She said something to you," he stated, a hint of anger creeping into his voice. Despite this, I opted to maintain my silence. I was reluctant to sow discord between him and his mother. After all, their relationship would persist regardless of my feelings.

"What did she say?" he pressed, his frustration evident.

"Why don't you ask her? Isn't it true that you're a mama's boy?" I retorted, my frustration bubbling over. It was an uncharacteristic burst of anger directed at him, and I couldn't fathom why I was reacting so strongly. His mother's words had cut deep, and while I knew he wasn't to blame, my emotions were spiraling out of control. Unfortunately, my outburst didn't escape his notice.

"Amelia, mind your language. I believe I've been too lenient with you. I asked a straightforward question, and I expect a direct answer without any resistance," he growled, a clear sign that my irritation was rubbing off on him as well.

I was frustrated with myself. My emotions seemed to be spiraling out of control.

"While we were returning from the shopping center, your mother spotted me at the entrance, and... and," I started to explain, my voice breaking as tears overwhelmed me.

"And what, baby? What did she say?" he questioned, concern evident in his voice and his arms encircling me as I cried into his chest.

"She told me that I'm nothing more than a mere plaything to you, and that once the wedding is over, you'll cast me aside," I blurted out, my words coming out in a rush as I clung to him, seeking solace amidst my tears.

"Will you truly leave me? Am I simply a toy for you?" I muffled my words, burying my face into his chest in an attempt to hide my vulnerability.

"No, baby, that's absolutely untrue. She's merely pretending. Don't listen to anything she says," he reassured me, his warm breath brushing against my ear as he whispered softly.

"I'll never leave you, princess. You're mine, alright? No one can ever tear us apart. You'll always be mine until death separates us," he declared with a hint of possessiveness, his fingers gently running through my hair as he tried to soothe my troubled heart.

"Mmmhumm," I responded with a subdued nod, still keeping my face tucked against his chest. The weight of the day had taken its toll on me, and exhaustion was pulling me under. I let my head rest on his chest and closed my eyes, surrendering to the embrace and drifting into a deep sleep.

Gabriel's POV

Amelia fell asleep in my arms, her pouty lips and button-like nose making her look incredibly adorable. As she recounted the events of earlier, my anger simmered. I realized it was time for a serious conversation with my mother. Her treatment of Amelia was completely unacceptable. Amelia wasn't just anyone; she was going to be my wife. I expected my mother to treat her with respect and dignity.

Gently, I laid Amelia down on the bed and carefully covered her with the quilt, ensuring she was comfortable. She seemed utterly exhausted, and I knew some rest would do her good. With a tender smile, I took a moment to admire her serene sleeping form before leaving her side.

I made my way to my mother's bedroom, my resolve firm. Without bothering to knock, I entered the room. There she was, lounging on the bed with her customary glass of wine.

"It appears you left your manners in Paris, young man," she chuckled, her tone dripping with mockery. "One would think you'd have learned the basics as a child—to knock before entering a room. Isn't that right?" She spoke with a taunting edge in her voice.

"Now is not the time, Mom," I said, my frustration palpable.

She looked at me, seemingly unfazed by my irritation. "For what reason did you fill Amelia's head with those nonsensical ideas? If you think for a moment that I'll ever abandon her, you need to erase that thought from your mind entirely. I'll never leave her, and the same goes for her."

My mother's lips curled into a sardonic smile. "But you're aware that this family requires a resilient daughter-in-law who can provide an heir, aren't you? I'm curious whether she's even capable of bearing children."

"Mom, how dare you question her fertility?" My anger surged to the surface. "Of course, she's not incapable of having children. She will give birth to an heir after our wedding, and I assure you of that."

My words held a firmness that brooked no argument. It was time to set things straight and make it clear that Amelia's worth extended far beyond bearing children.

I didn't wait for her response; I swiftly stormed out of the room. My anger was reaching its boiling point. I was utterly frustrated. The mere thought of someone casting doubt on my Angel infuriated me beyond measure. If it weren't for the fact that she was my mother, I would have taken much harsher actions. Since Amelia stepped into the mansion, my mother had always held a disapproving stance towards her. How could anyone harbor such disdain for this pure and innocent soul? I cared little for whether my parents were against this marriage. As long as I draw breath, I will always shield her, even if it means standing against the entire world.

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