obsessed over you

chapter 5

The night was still, save for the faint hum of distant traffic and the gentle ripple of water beneath the large bridge. Ethan had been driving aimlessly, his mind swirling with the bitterness of his encounter with his family. When he finally parked his car on the bridge, he stepped out, the cool breeze doing little to calm the storm inside him.

Walking to the edge, he stared out at the dark expanse of water below, his chest heaving with suppressed rage. Without thinking, he began punching the iron railing of the bridge, the cold metal biting into his knuckles with each strike. His fists were soon raw and bloody, but he didn’t stop. The physical pain felt like a release—a distraction from the chaos within.

On the other side of the bridge, Kyra stood at the edge, her hands gripping the railing as she vented her frustration to the empty night. Her screams echoed into the void, raw with anger and grief. Tears streamed down her face as she yelled at the world, at her circumstances, at the injustice of it all.

Ethan’s fists paused mid-strike when he noticed her. His sharp eyes caught the silhouette of a girl standing too close to the edge. Alarm bells went off in his head. Is she trying to jump? Without hesitation, he sprinted toward her, his heart pounding with adrenaline.

Kyra was too lost in her emotions to notice him until she felt herself being yanked back forcefully. She stumbled and fell, colliding with the hard ground beneath her, Ethan landing beside her with a hiss of pain.

“What the hell?” Kyra shouted, her voice filled with anger and confusion. She scrambled to her feet and turned to him, glaring. “Are you crazy? Why would you pull me like that?”

Ethan glared back, clutching his injured hand against his chest. “I’m crazy? You’re the one standing at the edge of a bridge screaming like a lunatic! What the hell were you thinking?”

Kyra’s temper flared. She stepped closer and jabbed her finger at his chest. “That’s none of your business! And I wasn’t going to jump, you i***t!”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Ethan muttered coldly, his glare unwavering.

Frustrated, Kyra shoved him lightly on the chest, but he winced, his face contorting in pain. She froze, noticing the blood dripping from his hand.

Her anger melted into concern. “Wait… your hand. It’s bleeding,” she said, her voice softer now.

Ethan looked down at his hand, blood oozing from the gashes on his knuckles, and let out a humorless laugh. “What do you think?” he replied, his tone laced with sarcasm.

Kyra ignored his attitude, pulling her scarf from around her neck. “Hold still,” she said firmly, wrapping the scarf around his hand as tightly as she could. “We need to stop the bleeding.”

He watched her with a mixture of irritation and amusement. The look of worry on her face was almost comical given the situation.

“I’ll call an ambulance,” she said, fumbling for her phone.

Ethan smirked despite the pain. “Don’t bother. Just drive me to the hospital. My car’s over there,” he said, nodding toward his vehicle.

Kyra hesitated, her brow furrowing. “Are you sure? You might need immediate medical attention.”

“I’ll survive,” he said, his tone dry.

She sighed, nodding reluctantly. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Helping him to his feet, Kyra wrapped an arm around his uninjured side for support. Together, they made their way to the car, his weight leaning slightly on her as they walked. Despite her earlier anger, Kyra couldn’t help but feel a pang of concern for the stranger who had just pulled her back from the edge—figuratively and literally.

The emergency room was quiet except for the occasional shuffle of nurses and faint beeping from monitors. When Kyra and Ethan arrived, the staff quickly helped him inside. Ethan hissed in pain as the nurse inspected his hand, her touch gentle but deliberate.

“The iron didn’t pierce too deeply,” the doctor explained after a brief examination. “We’ll clean and bandage the wound, but you’ll need to take it easy and avoid using your hand too much for a while. I’ll prescribe some antibiotics to prevent infection and painkillers for the discomfort.”

Ethan barely responded, his cold demeanor intact as they worked on his hand. Kyra, however, stood nearby, her arms crossed as she watched the staff carefully clean and bandage the wound. When the doctor handed her the prescription slip, she nodded without hesitation and left to pay the bill.

Ethan leaned back in the chair, his gaze fixed on the bandages wrapped around his hand. He couldn’t help but wonder why fate kept throwing this fiery, reckless girl into his path. From the cemetery to the bar, and now here—what kind of strange twist of destiny was this?

A few minutes later, Kyra returned, holding the receipt and prescription in her hand. “You’re good to go now,” she said, her tone firm but tinged with exhaustion. “It’s late. You should go home and rest.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a wry smirk. “I can’t drive,” he said simply, holding up his injured hand as if to emphasize the obvious.

Kyra sighed, her patience clearly wearing thin. “Of course you can’t,” she muttered under her breath. After a moment’s pause, she crossed her arms and looked at him. “Fine. I’ll drive you.

Ethan nodded toward the hospital parking lot. “Over there.”

She helped him to his feet, her grip steady despite her visible annoyance. Once they reached the car, Ethan handed her the keys and slid into the passenger seat.

“Where to?” she asked as she started the engine, her tone clipped.

He glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “The Rosewood Hotel,” he replied.

Kyra’s eyes widened slightly. The Rosewood was one of the most luxurious hotels in the city, a place she could never imagine stepping into. She said nothing, though, simply pulling out of the parking lot and onto the quiet streets.

The drive was silent, the tension in the air palpable. Neither of them seemed inclined to speak, and the only sound was the soft hum of the car engine.

Kyra kept her eyes on the road, stealing occasional glances at him. Ethan, meanwhile, stared out the window, lost in his thoughts.

When they finally arrived at the grand entrance of the hotel, Kyra parked the car and glanced at him. “We’re here,” she said, her voice flat.

Ethan turned to her, his sharp gaze meeting hers for a moment before he nodded. “Thanks,” he said curtly, opening the door and stepping out.

The elevator ride to the top floor was silent, but the tension between us was thick enough to cut with a knife. I glanced at Ethan out of the corner of my eye. He leaned against the wall, his bandaged hand resting on his lap, his expression cold and distant.

When we reached his suite, I couldn’t help but let out a low whistle. The place was massive, with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the glittering city below. The luxurious decor screamed wealth and privilege—two things I’d never had in my life.

Ethan walked ahead, tossing his jacket carelessly onto the back of a chair. I followed him inside, helping him settle onto the couch. “There,” I said, brushing my hands off. “You’re home and settled. Now I’ll be on my way.”

I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me in my tracks.

“Wait. I want water.”

I blinked, turning back to him. “You’ve got a kitchen, don’t you? Get it yourself.”

He raised an eyebrow, lifting his injured hand slightly. “I can’t exactly do that right now.”

I sighed, biting back my annoyance as I headed to the kitchen. I found a glass, filled it with water, and brought it back to him. “Here. Anything else?”

“Yes. I need to eat,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

I stared at him, my patience already wearing thin. “You can order something. I’m sure this fancy place has room service.”

“I don’t like waiting,” he replied, leaning back against the couch. “Check the kitchen. There should be something there.”

I clenched my jaw, resisting the urge to snap at him. Instead, I stalked back to the kitchen, opening the fridge and finding a variety of ingredients but no pre-cooked food. Of course. I returned to the living room.

“There’s nothing ready to eat in there,” I said sharply.

“Then make something,” he said without even looking at me.

That was it. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I snapped, crossing my arms. “I’m not your maid, and I didn’t sign up for this. Do you think I have nothing better to do than cater to your every whim?”

His gaze finally met mine, cold and unyielding. “I wouldn’t be in this condition if it weren’t for you.”

I gaped at him, completely floored. “Excuse me? How is this my fault?”

“If you hadn’t been on that bridge, acting like you were about to jump, none of this would’ve happened,” he said, his tone sharp. “I wouldn’t have had to pull you back, and I wouldn’t have injured my hand.”

My blood boiled. “For the last time, I wasn’t trying to commit suicide! I was venting, okay? Screaming into the void. Ever heard of it?”

He snorted, his disbelief obvious. “Oh, sure. Because that’s completely normal behavior—standing at the edge of a bridge and screaming like a lunatic.”

I threw my hands up, my voice rising. “What’s your problem? Do you just enjoy making people feel like crap? Or is it some kind of hobby for you?”

“My problem,” he said, his voice low and icy, “is that I’m stuck here, bleeding and hungry, because of some reckless girl who doesn’t know how to stay out of trouble.”

“Oh, I’m reckless?” I shot back. “You’re the one who threw yourself at me like a maniac! If anyone’s responsible for your hand, it’s you!”

The two of us stood there, glaring at each other like two angry bulls locking horns. My chest heaved with frustration, and his scowl deepened with every word.

Finally, I broke the standoff, throwing my hands in the air. “You know what? Fine. I’ll clean your stupid kitchen. But after that, I’m done.”

I stomped back to the kitchen, muttering under my breath about arrogant, entitled jerks. When I saw the mess in there, I groaned. Dirty dishes piled in the sink, crumbs littered the counters, and there were half-empty takeout containers scattered everywhere.

“This is disgusting,” I muttered, grabbing a sponge and getting to work. Every scrub and rinse only fueled my anger, and by the time I finished, I was ready to explode.

When I walked back into the living room, I wiped my hands on a towel and glared at Ethan. “Your kitchen is clean. You’re welcome.”

He looked up from where he sat, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “I didn’t ask you to do it for free.”

I huffed, grabbing my bag. “I’m leaving. Enjoy your spotless kitchen, Mr. High-and-Mighty.”

With that, I stormed out, slamming the door behind me. My hands were still shaking as I waited for the elevator, and I swore I’d never help that infuriating man again.