obsessed over you

chapter 10

I dialed Rachel’s number as soon as I left La Belle Cuisine. The excitement bubbling inside me was too much to contain. The phone barely rang twice before her voice came through.

“Kyra! What’s up?”

“I got the job!” I blurted out, unable to keep the smile out of my voice.

“That’s amazing! Where?”

“At La Belle Cuisine. I’ll be working as a delivery driver.”

There was a pause, and I could almost hear her processing the information. “Wait, delivering food? Around the city?”

“Yeah,” I said, still grinning. “They’re providing a scooter. It’s perfect!”

“Kyra, that’s... a lot,” Rachel said cautiously. “You’ll be walking into random places, dealing with strangers all over. And you’re a girl. Are you sure you can handle it? It sounds exhausting.”

I shrugged, though she couldn’t see me. “I can handle it. I mean, it’s not forever. The pay might not be much, but it’s enough for now.”

Rachel sighed, then softened. “Okay, okay. You’ve got this. Just be careful, okay? And if you need anything—anything at all—you call me, got it?”

“Got it.” I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me.

“I’m proud of you,” she said with a smile in her voice. “You’re stronger than you think.”

“Thanks, Rach. I’ll keep you posted.”

We ended the call, and I tucked my phone into my pocket, still smiling. Rachel always knew how to lift my spirits.

I ended my call with Rachel, a smile lingering on my lips. Her words of encouragement echoed in my mind, giving me a sense of determination I hadn’t felt in a while.

As I turned to leave, my gaze drifted across the street. That’s when I saw him—or who I thought was him. Ethan. He was walking casually, his hands stuffed in his pockets, and beside him was a girl dressed in something barely there. She clung to his arm, tossing her hair and laughing in a way that made me cringe.

I stopped in my tracks, staring. What in the world was he doing with her?

“Wow,” I muttered under my breath. “What a pervert.”

I couldn’t help the disgust that rose in me as I watched them walk away. It wasn’t my business, of course—it’s not like I knew Ethan well. We’d only crossed paths a few times, but seeing him like this left a sour taste in my mouth.

Shaking my head, I turned away, determined not to dwell on it. I had enough on my plate without letting some stranger’s choices bother me. Still, I couldn’t quite shake the thought as I made my way home, a strange mix of irritation and confusion swirling in my mind.

The cab ride home felt long and heavy, the hum of the engine almost too soothing as my thoughts kept swirling around. By the time I reached my apartment, I was tired—physically, emotionally, mentally. It was a struggle to shake off the image of Ethan and that girl. I barely knew him, so why was I letting it bother me so much? I shoved the thought aside, telling myself it didn’t matter.

Inside, the apartment was silent. I tossed my bag on the couch, walked to the kitchen, and opened the fridge. My eyes landed on a container of leftover noodles. It wasn’t much, but it would do. I heated them up, the steam rising as the scent of soy sauce and spices filled the air.

I sat down at the small kitchen table, the warmth of the noodles comforting in contrast to the cold feeling that still lingered in my chest. With chopsticks in hand, I dug in, trying to lose myself in the simple, comforting task of eating.

But, of course, that image of Ethan popped into my mind again. The way he had been walking with that girl. The way she had been laughing, leaning into him. A soft, almost sickening feeling twisted in my stomach as I thought about it.

“Why are you thinking about this?” I mumbled under my breath, shaking my head in disbelief. “What’s wrong with you, Kyra?”

I shoved another bite of noodles into my mouth, trying to ignore the ache in my chest. I didn’t even know him. I had no reason to be thinking about him, let alone getting upset over some random guy’s choice of company.

I scolded myself, silently vowing to stop wasting time on thoughts about someone who clearly wasn’t worth my energy. I focused on my food, determined to finish the meal in peace. But just as I was about to take another bite, I looked out the window, and there he was again—standing across the street, his arm around that girl’s waist.

I froze.

What the hell?

Before I could stop myself, I threw my chopsticks onto the table with a loud clatter, the noise ringing in the quiet room. The frustration and confusion burned in my chest.

“What the hell?” I muttered again, pushing away from the table. I stood up and paced for a few moments, trying to collect myself, but I couldn’t shake the feeling gnawing at me.

I needed to get away.

Without thinking, I stormed toward the bathroom, practically ripping the door open. I needed to wash away everything—the thoughts, the images, the feeling of irritation that wouldn’t leave me.

I turned on the shower, the sound of the water filling the room as steam rose from the tiles. I stepped under the spray, closing my eyes, letting the hot water pour over me.

“I must be crazy,” I whispered to myself, the steam fogging up the bathroom mirrors. “I’m thinking about somebody I don’t even know. I don’t know him. So why does it feel like this?”

I shook my head, my wet hair clinging to my face as I stood there, under the water, hoping it would wash away whatever strange attachment I had started to feel.

I shouldn’t care.

But why did I?

The water cascaded over me, but my mind kept returning to the image of him—Ethan—walking down the street with that girl, laughing, carefree. And just like that, I was back to square one: confused, frustrated, and unsure why I couldn’t seem to let go of the whole situation.

But that was the last time. I told myself that. I wouldn’t waste any more of my time on him.

Kyra stood in front of the bathroom mirror, steam still rising around her, her hair dripping wet and clinging to her face. She wiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand, the irritation of the past hour lingering like a weight she couldn’t shake off.

“Ethan, you absolute pervert,” she muttered to herself, gritting her teeth. The name felt strange on her tongue, but it was the only way to describe what she had seen earlier. Not that it was any of her business, of course. She didn’t even know him. Yet there she was, fuming over something she should’ve dismissed in a heartbeat.

She exhaled sharply, closing her eyes for a brief moment. “Why can’t I just get him out of my head?” she whispered, frustrated. "I need to stop thinking about someone I don’t even know."

Meanwhile, across town, Ethan sat in the sleek, modern conference room of his design company, Ethan M. Designs. The atmosphere was quiet and professional, a stark contrast to the chaos inside his head. He was in the middle of a crucial meeting, discussing new design concepts with his team, when a sudden tickle in his nose made him pause mid-sentence.

“Excuse me,” Ethan murmured, as his nostrils flared, his eyes narrowing in discomfort. Before anyone could respond, he sneezed—loud and sudden—into his hand.

Everyone around him froze for a moment, their expressions blank.

“Bless you,” one of his colleagues said hesitantly, offering a polite smile.

“Thanks,” Ethan replied, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand, hoping the sneeze was a one-time thing.

But it wasn’t.

Seconds later, he felt it again—a sharp, stinging sensation at the back of his throat. He sniffed, trying to fight it, but it was no use. He sneezed again, more forcefully this time, causing a few people in the room to glance at each other, some trying to stifle a chuckle.

Ethan sighed, leaning back in his chair, his frustration evident. His nose wouldn’t stop itching. He cleared his throat and reached for a tissue. The meeting seemed to drag on, his focus now entirely consumed by the relentless sneezing.

"Sorry about this, everyone," he said, trying to regain his composure, even as his voice cracked a little from the irritation in his sinuses.

“Are you okay, Ethan?” one of his team members asked, looking concerned.

“Yeah, just a bit of a cold, I think,” Ethan replied, forcing a smile. “It’ll pass.”

As the meeting continued, Ethan struggled to maintain his usual confidence. But his mind kept wandering to the sneezing fit that wouldn’t let up, as if his body had suddenly decided to rebel against his perfectly scheduled day.