HIS OBSESSION

Chapter 2: Beneath The Bloom

Victoria’s POV

“We need to talk,” Emily said.

She sat on the couch, mascara streaked down her cheeks.

Oh, s**t.

I dropped my bag and rushed to her side. She lifted her chin.

“I’ve been trying your line. What kept you so late?” Her voice cracked, fragile, like glass about to shatter.

My chest tightened. It wasn’t the first time my body betrayed me, still caught up in his shadow, but this was Emily. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t notice, and I had to work overtime,” I said, fumbling for words, hoping to sound clearer than I felt.

She burst into tears.

“What’s wrong? Did Leo break up with you?”

Emily shook her head, and my panic spiked. Please don’t tell me someone close to you is dead. Then I saw it—the ring glinting on her finger.

“Emily, you’re engaged.”

She nodded, guilt weighing on her features. “I’m sorry. I know we still have less than two months on the lease, but… he wants me to live with him.”

I stared at her, dumbfounded. “Emily, is that why you’re crying?”

She reached for a tissue on the glass coffee table and dabbed at her eyes. “I feel awful, Victoria. You’re going to be all alone.”

Alone.

The word rang like a bell in my chest. I refused to let it echo too loudly here, not in front of her. I was a Morgan, and Morgans didn’t wear vulnerability like a badge.

“I’m moving, and you won’t have anyone,” she whispered.

What the…

“Emily, I’ll be fine. I promise.” I forced a smile, brittle inside.

“Really?” she whispered, her voice searching, almost desperate.

I nodded. “Yes. I’m happy for you.”

Relief washed over her features, and only then did she smile. “Ohhh, thank you, Victoria! I have to go now.”

Now.

Her sudden exit left me stunned. She pulled away, grabbed her purse and shoes, and with a smile said, “Leo was so worried you wouldn’t let me go. I’ll come pick up my stuff later.”

I managed a grin, not realizing until then how easily hers had mirrored onto my face. And then she was gone.

Silence pressed in, heavy and unfamiliar. My eyes drifted to the rug, the hum of the freezer, the fingerprints on the glass table—proof she had been here, and proof she had left.

My throat tightened. The tears came only when I could no longer swallow them back.

Emily, Isabella, and I had been friends since college. Emily—the content creator with a man who adored her. Isabella—the lawyer in D.C., too busy to be in Manchester often.

Life had been manageable since I moved in with Emily after leaving the Jones family three years ago. She had been more than a roommate—she was the sister I never had. And now, she was leaving me behind for love.

I wanted to be happy for her, but the bleakness of my own life clawed its way to the surface.

I never had enough time to grieve my father’s death, and tonight wasn’t the night either. I pushed myself off the couch, sluggish, and let my back fall against my bedroom door.

When I first came to Manchester—jobless, lost—Emily had been the one singing loudly to drown out the emptiness of our tiny apartment. She cared for me when I couldn’t care for myself. We shared clothes, heartbreaks, whole years of our lives. But the truth lingered, cruel and sharp: I couldn’t afford this place without her.

My choices were harsh—find a new roommate or leave the penthouse entirely.

The rent was due in two months.

Silence filled the room, so thick it pressed against my chest until breathing felt like work. I unhooked my necklace, placing it gently in the jewelry box beside my earrings. My gaze slid to a wooden box tucked by the dresser. Inside were old shoe boxes, relics from another life.

I pulled out one and lifted the lid. On top lay a chain—a bite dual Cuban link, doubled, though one side of its pair was missing. Its weight wasn’t in the gold but in the warning it carried. Whoever held the other half held a piece of me.

I rubbed my finger over it, memories flooding, and then shoved it aside before they swallowed me whole.

Nostalgia was a cruel trickster.

My phone buzzed. Emily’s calls and texts filled the screen, but another name caught my eye—Vivian. Someone I could call a sister, though she never truly was one.

“Babe, I know it came so suddenly. I’m so sorry. I can pay for the next lease. See ya.”

I sighed. What was the point of paying when she wouldn’t even be here? She wanted to ease her guilt, but guilt couldn’t keep me warm at night.

I typed back, You don’t need to. I have savings to keep up.

A lie.

Most of my savings were long gone, spent on Pawila’s care. I never regretted that, not for a second, but it left me with nothing to fall back on.

I peeled off my robe and wiped the day’s makeup from my face. My thumb hovered over my playlist—every song felt like a choice, like it could decide how much of tonight I could survive.

I tapped softly, and the screen glowed before fading again.

The first note of Wildflower slipped into the silence. I stepped into the bathroom, closing the door with a quiet click. Steam clung to the mirror, blurring my reflection.

The hiss of the shower filled the air. For a moment, I just stood there, watching the cascade of water before stepping beneath it. Heat pelted my skin, washing away the day’s weight.

I could never stay dependent and penniless, not even for Emily.

The thought rose with the steam, and I pushed it back down.

I stepped out, water dripping from my hair, clinging to my skin. Wrapping myself in a towel, I padded toward the bed. My careless movements had left a mess in the corner, but I ignored it.

Billie’s voice whispered through the dark, soft yet piercing. I lay on the bed, and before I could stop myself, his memory carried me back.

“Should I talk to him? Ask him to give me more time to find another place?” I murmured to myself.

But even as I thought it, I knew I couldn’t. I’d rather downgrade than live with a stranger. My anxiety couldn’t take that.

Each lyric pressing on the truth—I was on borrowed days, borrowed walls. And soon, even that would be gone.

The song went on. But time was running out.