Page 39 of Obsessing Over His Favorite

His heart slammed against his ribs. The rage he had tried to hold back all night came roaring back with a vengeance. He rounded the bed and yanked the closet door open fully. All her clothes. Not a few. Her entire wardrobe had been shifted.

Then his eyes dropped lower. The bottom drawer. A black suitcase sat there, locked. On top of it—a torn photograph and a folded note.

He bent down, heart thudding now with a strange kind of dread. The picture was of them—her and him—ripped down the middle.

His hand trembled slightly as he picked up the note and unfolded it.

A chill rolled down his spine.

His heart dropped. Hard.

He unfolded the note. Words stared back at him:

‘I don’t want to see you ever again. Let’s break up.’

Chapter 8 It’s Over

Every ounce of strength in his body evaporated in that instant.

His entire body stilled. Blood drained from his face, his vision pulsing.

No matter how bad their fights got, no matter what she said in anger—Emily had never written anything like this. Never once had she mentioned leaving him in all the time they'd been together.

They fought, argued—but always made up. She always came back. Emily never once said she was leaving him.

Until now.

His chest tightened, breath caught in his throat. His fingers released the note. It drifted to the floor alongside the torn picture.

In the next second, he turned and marched to the bed. His body climbed over hers roughly, hands grabbing her jaw as he crushed his mouth to hers with desperation and rage.

Emily gasped awake with a jolt, her body reacting instinctively.

“Lucas—what are you doing?” she breathed out, pushing at his chest, her eyes wide with confusion. “What the hell is going on?”

But he didn’t stop. He was lost. Enraged, betrayed, spiraling. Her words—the note—kept ringing in his head like a curse. His hand slid to her waist, pulling at the drawstring of her pajamas. The other reached for her nightshirt, yanking it apart in one rough tug. Buttons snapped and scattered across the bed.

“Lucas, stop!” she cried, ripping her mouth from his, breath short and ragged. “Get off me! What is wrong with you?!”

But he grabbed her face again, eyes wild and locked on hers. His eyes were wild, unfocused. “You dared to write that damn note? You don't want to see me again? You think you can just break up with me like that?” he growled, his voice hoarse and full of disbelief. “Are you fucking serious, Emily? You’ve lost your damn mind!”

Then his mouth was at her neck, kissing roughly, biting, dragging his tongue across her skin. His weight pressed her into the mattress as she struggled beneath him.

“Get off me!” she screamed, tears flooding her eyes. “Lucas—stop! Please!” Her voice cracked, raw with desperation. “Get off me! I told you to stop!”

Her body shook violently beneath him, sobs tearing from her throat as she cried out, her fists weakly pushing at his chest.

Lucas lifted his face from the crook of her neck, his breath uneven. His eyes were dark, clouded with something fierce—until they dropped to her cheeks and froze.

Tears.

His entire body went rigid. His mouth halted mid-motion, jaw locking tight.

Slowly, his hands moved up to her face, brushing away the tears with a stiff, tense motion. His brows drew into a hard line, but he said nothing.

A moment later, he rose from the bed. The mattress shifted under his weight as he stepped back, jaw clenched. Then, wordlessly, he leaned down, slid his arms beneath her, and lifted her into his arms.

Emily didn’t resist this time, but her body remained tense, her breaths shallow as he carried her out of the guest room.