His Forbidden Craving (Dark Romance Dad's Best Friend)

Chapter 7

Estora

November 18th 2019
Age: 18

The days following my confrontation with Zero were a blur of emotions—anger, sorrow, confusion. I felt like a ghost drifting through my own life, haunted by the memories of what I had discovered. The knowledge of Zero’s obsession clung to me like a dark shadow, tainting every moment of my day. I couldn’t escape the images in my mind—his journal, the photos, his words. They played on a loop, over and over, a constant reminder of the betrayal.
I avoided my dad as much as possible, not ready to face him with the truth of what had happened. I didn’t know how to explain it—how could I tell him that his trusted friend had been secretly obsessed with me for years? How could I reveal the twisted reality of what I had thought was a love story? It would break his heart, and I wasn’t sure I could handle that on top of everything else.
So, I buried myself in routine. I went to school, did my homework, and tried to pretend that everything was normal. But it wasn’t. I felt like I was living a double life, carrying this dark secret inside me while trying to maintain a facade of normalcy. I could see the worry in my dad’s eyes when he looked at me, the unspoken questions hovering between us, but I wasn’t ready to answer them. Not yet. One evening, about a week after our last conversation, I was sitting on the back porch, staring out at the setting sun. The sky was painted in shades of pink and orange, the colors softening the hard edges of the world. I took a deep breath, trying to absorb some of that calm, but the knot in my chest refused to loosen.
That’s when I heard the familiar sound of gravel crunching under tires. My heart skipped a beat as I turned to see Zero’s truck pulling into our driveway. I hadn’t seen him since that day, and the sight of his truck sent a jolt of anxiety through me. What was he doing here? What did he want?
I stood up, my body tense, ready to bolt if I needed to. But I forced myself to stay put as Zero climbed out of the truck and walked toward me. He looked different—tired, worn, like he hadn’t slept in days. There was a heaviness in his step that hadn’t been there before, and when he finally reached me, his eyes were filled with a sadness that made my heart ache despite everything.
“Can we talk?” he asked, his voice hoarse, like he’d been fighting back tears.
I hesitated, every instinct telling me to refuse. But something in his expression made me pause. I nodded reluctantly, gesturing for him to sit down on the porch steps with me. We sat in silence for a moment, the tension between us thick and suffocating.
“I know I don’t have any right to ask you for anything,” Zero began, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I need to tell you something… something I’ve been thinking about ever since that day.”
I swallowed hard, bracing myself for whatever was coming next. “What is it?”
He looked down at his hands, which were clenched tightly in his lap. “I’ve been trying to understand why I did what I did—why I let things get so out of control. And I realized… I was using you as an escape, as a way to avoid dealing with my own problems. My life hasn’t been easy, and I’ve always been afraid of facing my own demons. So, I fixated on you, on this idea of you, because it was easier than dealing with my own reality.”
I listened, my emotions a mix of anger and pity. I hated that he had dragged me into his mess, that he had used me in such a twisted way. But at the same time, I could see that he was genuinely struggling, that he was trying to make sense of his actions.
“I know that doesn’t make it okay,” he continued, his voice cracking. “And I’m not asking for forgiveness. I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry—for everything. I never meant to hurt you, and I hate myself for what I’ve done. I’ve started seeing a therapist, trying to work through my issues, and I’m planning to move away for a while. I need to get my life together, to figure out who I am without this obsession.”
His words hung in the air between us, heavy with regret. I didn’t know what to say. Part of me wanted to lash out, to scream at him for everything he’d put me through. But another part of me—the part that had once cared for him—felt a flicker of empathy. He was broken, just like me, but in a different way. And while that didn’t excuse his actions, it made it harder for me to hate him completely.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” I said quietly, my voice trembling with the effort to keep my emotions in check. “But I need to move on too. I need to heal from this, and that means I can’t be around you anymore.”
He nodded, tears glistening in his eyes. “I understand. I wish things could have been different.”
With that, he stood up, looking down at me one last time before turning and walking back to his truck. I watched him drive away, feeling a strange mix of relief and sadness. This chapter of my life was finally closing, but the scars it left behind would take time to heal.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling the chill of the evening air. I knew the road ahead wouldn’t be easy, but I also knew I had the strength to walk it. I had survived the storm, and now it was time to rebuild, to find myself again in the aftermath.
It was time to reclaim my life, my future, and my heart—piece by piece.