The way they look at her. They think I don’t notice, but I do. They see her beauty, her grace, and they think they have a chance. Fools. She doesn’t belong to them. She’s mine.
I told myself I wouldn’t let this arrangement define me, but she’s done something to me I can’t undo. The thought of someone else trying to take her—trying to hurt her—it twists something inside me. If they ever tried, I’d make them regret it. I’d make the world regret it.
I can’t shake this feeling of possessiveness that consumes me whenever she’s near. It’s not like me to care so deeply about someone, to feel this need to protect and guard what is mine. But she’s different. She’s not just anyone. She’s my everything.
I watch her as she moves through the crowded room, her laughter like music to my ears. I see the way others try to catch her eye, to engage her in conversation, to bask in her light. But they don’t understand. They don’t see the fire that burns within her, the strength and determination that make her untouchable.
I want to wrap her in my arms and shield her from the world, from all those who would dare to challenge my claim on her. I want to show her that she is safe with me, that I will always be there to stand between her and any threat that dares to come near.
It’s a dangerous game, this possessiveness that grips me so tightly. It’s a side of myself I never knew existed, a side that terrifies me with its intensity. But I can’t deny the truth of it. She is mine, and I will do whatever it takes to keep her by my side.
I know others may judge me for this, may see me as controlling or overbearing. But they don’t understand what she means to me, the depth of my feelings for her. They don’t see the vulnerability that lies beneath my facade of strength, the fear that drives me to protect her at all costs.
So I will embrace this possessiveness, this need to claim her as my own. I will let it guide me, let it fuel the fire that burns within me. And I will do whatever it takes to ensure that she remains mine, now and forever.