Page 162 of Sweet Obsession

Her voice. Soft. Wary. Still mine.

My knees almost gave. I leaned against the desk, heart crashing against my ribs. “Luna...”

Silence. Not dead silence. Breathing. Her breathing. Choked. Controlled.

“Why?” I rasped, throat burning. “Why did you leave me like that?”

Still no answer.

“Why, Luna?” My voice cracked under the weight of it. “You couldn’t wait for us to talk? You had to run? Divorce me?” The word tasted like glass. “We could’ve worked through it. We always did.”

She exhaled, slow and raw. “I didn’trunthis time.”

Her voice, God, her voice, was fragile and steel all at once. “I chose to leave this time, Misha. Not out of fear. Not because I thought you’d chase me and drag me back. I left because it was my decision, for once, mine. And you don’t get to just show up and claim me like I’m something you lost and have the right to own.

My chest tightened. “That’s not what this is.”

“Yes, it is,” she whispered. “That’s what it’s always been. You forced a marriage out of obsession. You cornered me into it like a contract deal, and when I tried to run—twice—you dragged me back. But this time... I left. Because I want more than to be owned.”

I swallowed hard. “You are more.”

“But you didn’t treat me like I was.”

“You barely see me anymore, Misha,” she continued, voice shaking. “The man I married—God, he vanished under meetings, bloodshed, duty. You come home and I feel more alone than when you’re gone.”

I gritted my teeth. “I was doing it all for us. The position, the power—it was to protect you.”

“No,” she whispered. “You did it for control. And somewhere along the way, I disappeared from your list of priorities.”

I staggered back a step, like her words had winded me. “Luna...”

“The man I married was obsessed with me, haunted me, hunted me down and forced my hand into a marriage I never asked for. And yet... he still saw me. He still cared. This version of you?” Her voice cracked. “He’s colder than the man who once locked me in a cage.”

“You’re my wife.”

“I was your contracted wife,” she said bitterly. “And that contract expired. You said it yourself, you never wanted love. You wanted control. And you got it. But I want something more.”

“To hell with the contract.” My voice cracked, raw and guttural. “You’re mine, Luna. You always will be.”

“Then why didn’t you act like it?” she whispered.

Silence fell between us. My throat burned. My hands trembled. “What can I do to make this right?”

Her silence came first. Then a breath. Then: “Nothing.”

“Are you giving up on us? After everything we’ve been through?”

A stifled sob cracked through the speaker, and it felt like a knife twisting into my chest. “You can’t love me the way I want, Misha. And that’s okay. Just... focus on your empire. I’ll focus on rebuilding what’s left of me. What we had was real. It was beautiful... for a time.”

“I’ll come for you,” I swore. “I don’t care if your father has soldiers. I don’t care if the Vargas want my head. I’ll crawl through hell if I have to.”

Her voice steadied. “You won’t be foolish enough to come. You step out of Yakutsk and they’ll kill you before you even reach Bogotá.”

A pause.

“You don’t belong in this world anymore, Misha. Not the one I’m in.”

Then the line went dead.