His sinful Obsession

Fleeting Moment

"Jeg beklager på det sterkeste, sir"(I sincerely apologize, sir), she said in a soft, honeyed voice.
"Hunden min kom foran bilen din, han er litt syk"(My dog got in front of your car, he is little bit sick)

A girl stood in front of the car, a thick sky-blue muffler wrapped tightly around her face, covering everything but her eyes. A small dog cowered beside her, its frail body trembling.

Nicolas got baffled hearing the sweetest and softest kind of voice. In their world it is something rare. Everyone has malice towards everything around them. Someone sounding so genuine, he hadn't heard it for years.
He asked in a daze "do you speak English?"

The girl in front of him blinked twice before answering
"oh yes yes sir. I apologize, I thought you could understand." She laughed awkwardly. "Erm sir I hope you didn't mind"

"No, miss, but my boss—" Nicolas glanced back at the car, lowering his voice. "He gets angry very easily. Take this money and go. Before he—"Her gloved fingers curled into fists.

"I don't need the money." she declared with a frown, her voice firm, laced with quiet defiance. Her eyes flickered past Nicolas—toward the black SUV.

For the briefest second, she stared directly at him.
A fleeting moment. Barely a glance. And yet—
Rafael stopped breathing.
His grip on his thigh tightened.
Something—something unfamiliar stirred in his chest.

Those eyes.

Clear as ice, deeper than any ocean, framed by thick lashes that only accentuated their quiet fire.

A strange, unsettling sense of recognition clawed at him.
Where had he seen them before?
Why did it feel like those very eyes had once belonged to him?
Before he could analyze it—
She turned away.

"Have a good day, sir," she said. And just like that, she walked off, her dog trailing behind her.

Rafael's jaw clenched.

Nicolas sighed in relief and climbed back into the driver's seat.
"Ojos bonitos," he muttered under his breath.
Silence.
"What did she say?" Rafael's voice was ice. It was not a question. It was a demand.
Nicolas stiffened.
"Uh—nothing, boss. Just—"
"Don't waste my time."
Nicolas exhaled sharply.
"She just apologized. Genuinely."
Rafael said nothing.
The tension in the car grew thick, suffocating.

He hated this. He hated how Nicolas muttered about her. 
This unsettled feeling. This loss of control.
And above all—He hated the fact that he couldn't see her face.
The muffler had hidden everything but her eyes, and now that she was gone,
it left behind an ache.

A frustrating, unfamiliar ache.

His fingers twitched. A part of him—the rational part—knew this meant nothing. A chance encounter.
A meaningless girl.
And yet—He had never felt this kind of annoyance before.
This irritation.
This... obsession with a single fleeting glance.

Rafael exhaled through his nose, looking out the window for the first time in the entire journey.
"End things in Oslo quickly." His voice was sharp, final.

He already hated this city. This city was getting on his nerves and he didn't want any unnecessary headaches, right now he had more on his plates.

What he didn't know—what he refused to acknowledge—was that his fate had already been decided. He could make his destiny but he couldn't escape his fate.

And this girl—this unknown woman with those hauntingly familiar eyes—was about to become the only thing his darkness would ever crave.

Forever.

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"Casper."
The nurse's voice echoed through the waiting area.
"Ah, here he is," Frida murmured, gently patting the small bundle in her arms.
"Let the doctor check on him. You can wait here," the nurse instructed.
"Okay,"
she whispered, pressing a kiss to Casper's tiny head before handing him over.

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"Ellaaaa!"
The familiar scent of cinnamon and freshly baked bread filled Frida's lungs as she pushed open the café door.
"You're alive?" Ella quipped without looking up, her hands expertly kneading dough on the floured countertop.
Frida grinned as Ella slid a plate toward her. Cheesecake.
"Hmmmmm," she hummed, taking a blissful bite.
"You always know how to win my heart."
"How's your son?"
"Correction—handsome son." Ella rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, yeah. How's his health?"
"The doctor said he'll be okay. Just the flu. Other than that, my little prince is thriving."
"Glad to hear that. And work? Any updates?"
"Don't remind me, please," Frida groaned dramatically.
Ella smirked.
"I can never win against you, can I?"
Frida leaned in, lowering her voice mischievously.
"Of course not, my Cinderella. I am your only sweetheart."

"Frida Aurora Ånnevik" Ella shouted, exasperation coloring her tone.

Frida giggled. She knew how much Ella hated hearing her full name. And as expected, it worked like a charm. Before Ella could retaliate, she was already halfway out the door.
"See you tonight, my princess!" she called over her shoulder.

Ella sighed, wiping her flour-dusted hands on her apron. Frida was impossible.

She had come a long way from the quiet, wary girl Ella had first met—now playful, teasing, full of life. But it was only with Ella.
The rest of the world still felt like a battlefield she avoided at all costs.
Would the future be kind to her?
Ella wished for someone—someone strong, someone kind—to come into Frida's life and shield her from the darkness of this world.

But fate had already chosen. And fate had a cruel sense of humor.

Frida was already caught in the devil's eyes.

Would she survive him?

Only time would tell.

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Yes Yes your author is alive. but I was caught up in some personal as well academic matters. But I will try to update frequently.

Edited.

Happy reading!