Page 120 of The Art of Obsession

Every step she takes toward me is unhurried, and I let my eyes trace her, committing every detail to memory. The curve of her hips, the swell of her belly, the softness of her breasts grown fuller. She stops in front of me, her gaze shifting to the canvas.

“Can I see it?” she asks, voice full of quiet curiosity.

I hesitate for a moment before turning the canvas around. Her eyes widen slightly as she takes it in, her lips parting.

“It’s…” She trails off, her fingers brushing the edge of the canvas as if she’s afraid to touch it. “It’s beautiful.”

I step closer, cupping her face in my hands and tilting her head up to meet my gaze. “This time,” I say, my voice low and firm, “don’t throw it away.”

She smiles, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I won’t,” she whispers. I read unspoken words in her soft eyes.It’s not just a painting. It’s us. It’s every broken, beautiful piece of us.

I kiss her, pouring everything I feel into it—my love, my mastery, my obsession. When I pull back, she’s still looking at me, her hand resting over her belly.

“You’ve made me a masterpiece, Cal, my Acheron,” she says, her voice trembling but strong. “But this time, we’re creating something even greater. Something that only belongs tous.”

And in that moment, I know. This isn’t just art. This is life. This is love. And love is the ultimateobsession.

THE END