Obsessively yours

Chapter 16| Our past.

ABHIMAAN

Cherry looks so beautiful while sleeping, she has breathed 3360 times since the last 4 hours that I am watching her, I can't believe she's here, with me or might I say I am there with her since I am in her room. God, I can't imagine what her reaction will be when she realizes that I am here, she'll be horrified.

I watch her, the rise and fall of her chest so steady, so calming. It's almost like a rhythm I could get lost in. Each breath she takes is soft, slow, a quiet whisper of life that fills the space between us. I can't help but focus on it—her breathing. It's so simple, yet it feels intimate in a way nothing else does.

Her face is relaxed, the tension from the day completely gone, and I think it's the first time I've ever seen her like this—completely unguarded. Her lips are slightly parted, like she's dreaming, and I can't help but wonder what's going on in her mind. But it's not just that. It's the way her chest rises, the way her body moves so gently with each breath. It's like I can feel every inhale, every exhale, and it calms something in me, too.

I don't want to disturb her. I don't want to break this fragile, quiet moment between us. It's almost as if I'm witnessing something sacred, something just for me. It's a strange thing to feel, but watching her breathe feels so... personal.

I don't know why I'm so fixated on it, but I am. Maybe it's the way she looks when she's asleep—peaceful, untouched by the world. Maybe it's the way her breath connects her to me, in a way that feels so real, so undeniable. There's nothing else in the world right now, just the sound of her breathing, and I feel like I could stay here forever, listening, watching, and somehow feeling closer to her than I ever have before.

It is 10:30 am right now, she'll be so angry when she figures out that I let her sleep in so late. But, she needs it, she needs me the same way I do.

She stirs, her hands twitching at the sides, her eyes twitching, her face contorts in pain. Her breathing fastens. Dream, she's dreaming.

Her eyes flicker beneath closed lids, rapid movements, like she's caught in some unsettling scene. Her face tightens, the muscles pulling in discomfort, and her lips part as though trying to gasp for air. Her breath quickens, shallow and frantic.

She's dreaming—her mind running wild in a place I can't follow. I can see it in the way her body moves, the tension coiling in her every muscle. She's caught in it, lost somewhere in the dark of her own mind. It's a nightmare.

It might be... No, I need her out of it.

I don't know if I should wake her up, if she even wants to be woken, but I can't stand seeing her like this. Her distress tugs at something inside me, pulling me toward her, wanting to make it stop. I hesitate, unsure—because once I do, she might be disoriented, confused, unsure if she's still trapped in the nightmare.

But for that I am here, I am here to slash her demons for her.

I can't let her stay there, helpless in the throes of that fear her dream has conjured. I gently reach out. Then, softly, I touch her wrist, my fingers light on her skin, trying to calm the storm of her mind without pulling her too violently from it. I lightly touch her forehead with my other hand. I whisper her name, barely audible, careful not to startle her too much.

"Baby... it's okay. You're safe."

She stirs again as if using my voice to anchor her back to reality, but for me that's not enough. I lay back beside her, breathing her scent in me and start kissing her neck, god! I can never get tired of tasting her, then lean up toward her face.

I brushed my lips against her temple, then down to her cheek. The sweetness of her skin was intoxicating, and I couldn't help but let my lips linger there a moment longer. "Cherry, please," I whispered again, my voice low and soothing. I couldn't resist the urge to kiss her again, this time on her lips, a gentle brush that was both an invitation and a plea.