Chapter4
1198 Words
CHAPTER 4
She should have left immediately.
Every instinct in her body screamed at her to walk out of the house, get into a taxi, block his number, and pretend none of this had ever happened.
Instead, she stayed.
Not because she trusted him, definitely not because she liked him, but because confusion was a dangerous thing.
And right now, confusion had wrapped itself tightly around her curiosity.
“You don’t get to act normal after saying things like that,” she said finally.
He leaned back slightly, watching her with the same unreadable calm that had unsettled her from the moment she arrived.
“I never claimed to be normal.”
“That isn’t charming.”
He did it again; no embarrassment nor awkwardness, just honesty delivered too smoothly.
Her fingers tightened around her purse in her hand.
“You’ve been watching me?”
His gaze flickered briefly toward the flowers she still held.
“I’ve been noticing you.”
“That’s not better.”
A small smile touched his mouth.
“It wasn’t supposed to be.”
God.
Everything about him was frustrating.
Like speaking to someone who already knew the ending of the conversation before it even started.
She exhaled sharply, trying to ground herself again.
“You’re his brother for f**k's sake."
The words sounded strange now.
He nodded once.
“Yes.”
“And you think this is okay?”
“No.”
That answer caught her off guard.
For the first time since arriving, something shifted in his expression. Slightly softer. Slightly darker.
“Okay and wanting rarely exist together.”
The room fell quiet again. She hated that he sounded genuine, hated it even more because part of her believed him.
Her phone buzzed suddenly in her hand, making both of them glance down.
Chloe.
Again.
She ignored it immediately.
His eyes noticed.
“You should answer,” he said quietly.
“I’m fine.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t.”
The tension in the room felt strange now.
Less explosive.
More dangerous.
Like standing too close to the edge of something she still didn’t fully understand.
She finally looked around the house properly for the first time; minimalist, clean, cold colours.
Everything placed too perfectly to feel lived in.
And then she noticed something hanging near the staircase wall.
Her breath caught slightly.
A photograph.
No.
Not a photograph.
A framed sketch, black ink on white canvas.
Messy lines, sharp emotion, chaotic shading.
Her art style.
Her stomach dropped instantly.
“What…” She stepped closer automatically. “What is that?”
He went quiet behind her.
She stared harder.
Because it wasn’t just inspired by her work.
It was her work.
One of her old street pieces from almost two years ago.
A mural she painted illegally downtown before the city painted over it days later.
Nobody should have had a picture of it.
“Nobody even saw that,” she whispered.
“I did.”
Slowly, she turned toward him again.
And suddenly everything about him felt different.
Not newer.
Older.
Like this obsession hadn’t started with the breakup at all.
“How long have you known me?” she asked carefully.
He didn’t answer immediately which somehow felt worse than honesty.
Finally,
“Long enough.”
Her pulse started climbing again.
“No,” she said quietly. “You don’t get to answer me like that anymore.”
Something flickered in his eyes at the word anymore.
Interest.
Like he enjoyed hearing her push back.
“You really want the truth?”
“Yes.”
He studied her face for a second too long.
Then sighed softly.
“The first time I saw you,” he said, “you were standing on top of a ladder arguing with a police officer.”
Her brows pulled together instantly.
“What?”
“You had black paint on your face.” A faint smile touched his mouth. “And you threatened to throw the entire paint bucket at him if he touched your supplies.”
Her stomach tightened.
That happened three years ago.
Three.
“You remember that?”
“I remember everything about you.”
The room suddenly felt too warm.
No, not warm, close.
Like the walls had quietly moved inward while she wasn’t paying attention.
“That’s impossible.”
“It really isn’t.”
“You didn’t even know me.”
“I wanted to.”
Her heartbeat became painfully aware of itself.
Because there was no hesitation in him.
“You’re telling me,” she said slowly, “that before I even dated your brother…”
“Yes.”
The answer came instantly.
Her chest tightened.
“You were interested in me first.”
He held her gaze.
“Yes.”
A heavy, disorienting silence.
Because suddenly memories started rearranging themselves in her head.
The family dinner.
The way he barely spoke.
The staring she ignored.
The strange tension she brushed off as discomfort.
And now,
Those moments felt less accidental.
“You should’ve said something.”
A quiet laugh escaped him.
“And tell my brother I liked the girl he brought home?” He tilted his head slightly. “That would’ve gone well.”
“You could’ve acted like a normal human being.”
“I tried.”
She almost laughed at how serious he sounded saying that.
But then he walked closer again, till she could feel his body warmth and his breath on her skin, her body reacted to him before her brain could stop it.
“I stayed away from you for years,” he said quietly. “Do you know how difficult that was?”
“You’re acting like I asked you to.”
“No.” His eyes stayed locked on hers. “You didn’t ask for any of this.”
Something about the softness in his voice made her nervous in a completely different way.
Because obsession was easier to reject when it looked cruel.
His didn’t, his looked patient, careful, and wanted.
And somehow that felt worse.
“You need boundaries,” she whispered.
His gaze dropped briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes.
“You need honesty.”
Her breath caught slightly.
And she hated him for noticing because the smirk that appeared afterward was small but immediate.
“There you are,” he murmured.
Her brows furrowed.
“What?”
“The nervousness.” His voice lowered slightly. “I was wondering when you’d stop pretending you weren’t affected by me.”
“I’m not affected by you.”
“Lying doesn’t suit your face.”
Her heartbeat betrayed her instantly.
And judging by the look in his eyes, he knew it.
God.
She needed to leave.
Now.
Before this became something worse.
Before she started confusing attention for attraction.
Before his obsession started feeling flattering instead of frightening.
She stepped back immediately.
“I’m leaving.”
This time, he didn’t stop her.
Didn’t move closer.
Didn’t argue.
He only nodded once like he expected it.
“Okay.”
That should’ve relieved her.
Instead, it unsettled her even more.
Because somehow,
It felt like he already knew she would come back.
- Writer
