Devoted Obsession |

06| Addiction?

Vote target: 200

(Itna toh kardo😭)

How hard could it be to hate the person who’s made your life miserable?

Not that hard, right?

But what if you become unintentionally addicted to her, like she’s some kind of drug?

When the person tortures you in every possible way, but you still can’t fight the urge to grab her and—well, let’s just say, remind her who she belongs to, or at least make her faint under me, so that she knows what her venomous behaviour does to me.

The audacity is, she ain’t mine but still mine. She has to know that. 

She makes me work like a labour, orders me around like I’m her personal lackey, and sends me on daily coffee runs. I hate the smell of coffee, but somehow, I crave the taste of it on her lips. Every damn time. 

She flirts with other men. Other men. Right in front of my eyes, loud enough for me to hear. She pushes boundaries I didn’t even know I had.

Every two days, she has a date.

And every time, I scare, threaten, or harass the guy. It’s my ritual at this point. Yet, she doesn’t understand that I won’t ever let her be happy—just as she’s made it her life’s mission to destroy my peace.

I was smoking when I handed her the latest project I completed for her. It’s part of my job to lighten her workload, but she burned the entire thing—twenty pages reduced to ashes—just because I poured a cold drink on her date.

I mean, come on.

Her antics barely faze me now. I watched her sip her coffee from the corner of my eye. A smirk crept onto my face when she coughed, her expression twisting as she spat the drink onto the floor. Normally, I’d empathize—it’s how I feel whenever I smell coffee—but not this time. She was sipping two tablespoons of salt in her precious cup of caffeine.

“Well, well, you made quite the mess, ma’am,” I said smugly, spinning my chair around to face her.

She clenched her fists, gritting her teeth as she glared at me. Without a word, she stomped off to the restroom.