Page 32 of Charmingly Obsessed

I take a stumbling step back into the vast, opulent living room. The sheer scale of it, the soaring ceilings, the panoramic city views—suddenly it all feels suffocating.

It’s swallowing me whole.

“Oh, you just had to shock everyone, didn’t you?

Had to do the exact opposite of what anyone, anywhere, would ever expect?

Just to prove you could? ‘Madly obsessed’ – really, Mykola?

Really? That’s… that’s too much. It’s too cruel!

Just to rub it in their faces. In my face!

No one says things like that! Not about a sham!

No one declares it to the entire goddamn world like that!

But you… no, you just had to do the opposite!

You always have to be the exception! The goddamn unicorn! ”

He pulls something – a bottle of water, I think – out of the sleek, integrated refrigerator, his movements slow, deliberate.

He leans against the cool stone of the kitchen island, watching me, his expression still unreadable.

“When will you understand…” My voice trembles, breaks, dropping to a desperate, ragged whisper.

“When will it finally click for you – what this is? What kind of pain you inflict with your careless words, your casual manipulations…?” My fist clenches at my side, then I slap my own thigh in frustration.

“ When you finally, finally understand… you’ll be so fucking ashamed of yourself! ”

His voice, when he finally speaks, is quiet. Too quiet. Almost… dangerously so.

“Maybe it’s you who should be ashamed, Diana.”

Then, suddenly, his composure shatters.

He yells—a raw, guttural, furious sound that echoes through the opulent penthouse.

“Yes, maybe you’re the one who should be fucking ashamed!”

He slams the open water bottle down hard onto the countertop. Water sloshes violently over the sides.

He takes an aggressive step toward me—then immediately stops, pulling himself back. His whole body thrums with barely suppressed violence, mirroring my own.

I gasp, recoiling as if he’s struck me. “Me? M-me?! For what? I… I didn’t turn a private, necessary arrangement into a global media spectacle, Mykola! I didn’t lie to millions of people! I didn’t—”

“What didn’t you do, Diana?”

He tilts his head sharply. His expression goes cold and hard. Any lingering softness—any hint of vulnerability—is erased. His face is smooth now, unmoving, like a mask carved from monolithic marble.

“Go on.” His voice is a hoarse, demanding rasp. “Tell me.”

“I… I…” The words won’t come. They’re trapped in my throat, choked by a fresh wave of tears, of anger, of utter, helpless despair.

I clutch the hideous pink jacket-parachute around me, hugging myself tightly as a violent tremor runs through my entire body.

“You didn’t turn it into a joke. Yeah, right.

” He repeats my words, his voice flat and hollow.

He nods slowly, gaze drifting around the room as if searching for an answer in the polished emptiness.

“So what’s my crime, then, wife? I said what I thought.

What I felt. You think that’s shameful? To admit I care about my own wife? ”

He takes a sharp breath, eyes locking onto mine with unnerving stillness.

“You know what I think, Diana? Huh? You wanna know what I really fucking think?” His voice drops, low and searing.

“I think all those so-called husbands—the ones who pretend they don’t care, who treat commitment like a goddamn prison sentence—are nothing but pathetic, cowardly losers. That’s what I think.”

“That’s not what this is about!” My voice is raw, frayed with tears I refuse to shed.

“Not that! I… Maybe I had dreams, Mykola! Maybe I imagined… that when I finally got married—if I ever got married—it would be to someone who actually needed me. Really, truly, desperately needed me. Someone really obsessed with me. Me, specifically. Diana Bilova. Not just… a convenient placeholder. Not just a means to an end. Not just—”

He laughs.

But it’s not just any laugh. It’s wild. Guttural. Devastating. A sound hollow and heartbroken and furious all at once. It drowns out my panic. It swallows my ragged breaths whole.

And that’s when I snap.

I lunge at him—because if I don’t, I’ll explode. Shatter into a million irreparable pieces from the sheer, unbearable injustice of it all.

I don’t care how childish it looks. How irrational.

Let me be immature. Let me be insane.

Kids have rights too, don’t they? Dreams. Hopes. Feelings.

Even when they’re wrong.

But he lunges at me too. At the exact same instant.

And of course, he’s faster. Stronger. Always.

He catches my flailing fists easily. His grip is like steel around my wrists, yanking me hard against his chest until the air rushes from my lungs.

“Shhh,” Frez hisses, his voice low and electric against my ear. “Shhh, my sunshine. My beautiful, crazy, infuriating sunshine.” His breath is hot and ragged. “You’re insane. Completely, gloriously, dangerously insane. And so fucking blind!”

I twist against him, desperate to escape, but his hold only tightens—unyielding.

“You want to be needed, Diana? Is that it?” His voice rasps raw against my hair.

“Fine. I need you. Christ, I need you like my next fucking breath. Like a drowning man needs air. Is that desperate enough for you?” He shakes me—first gently, then not so gently.

“And yes—I’m obsessed with my wife! Madly!

So why the hell shouldn’t I say it? Why can’t I tell the whole goddamn world the truth?

That I finally found her? That she’s mine? ”

Somewhere around his fifth furious word, I coil like a spring. My whole body is buzzing, vibrating—seconds from bursting out of my own skin.

I’m shaking uncontrollably. And he… he’s cupping my face now. His thumbs stroke away the angry tears I didn’t even realize were falling. Then his hands slide to my shoulders, gripping me tight.

“Madly obsessed with my wife,” he murmurs again, his voice a mocking caress against my lips—before suddenly exploding, shouting raw from the depths of his soul: “And my wife is you, Diana! Got it? You! Only you!”

No consciousness — human or divine — could ever comprehend the look on his face in that moment.

Because once again, I am staring into the face of a man possessed. By what, I don’t know. Madness? Love? Despair? All of it?

“Kolya,” I whisper. Something deep inside me, something I thought was dead and buried, cracking open, splintering, letting in a terrifying, blinding sliver of… hope? My whole body shakes. “Is… is that… true?”