Chains of Obsession - Chapter 3


 

Chapter 3: Touch and Tease

The line between love and obsession had long faded in Aditi’s world. What started as distant admiration had turned into compulsion. Every second she spent not seeing Aditya felt like an eternity clawing at her sanity.

So she changed the rules.

No more watching from the shadows.

Now, she wanted to be seen.

The First Touch

It was a Thursday. She knew he would be at The Ark. The elevator to the private gym required biometric access—but the lounge outside didn’t.

Dressed in deep green workout tights and a plain black tank top, Aditi waited with calculated ease. When she saw him step out of the lift, towel slung over his shoulder, water bottle in hand, she took a step forward—just enough to bump shoulders.

A deliberate accident.

“Sorry,” she whispered, eyes locking with his. Wide. Soft. Vulnerable.

Aditya paused.

His gaze fell on her face, then to her hands.

She waited for a spark, a word, anything.

But all she got was a subtle raise of his brow… and silence.

Then he walked past her.

As if she didn’t exist.

The Second Attempt

Two days later, she walked into Vespera, one of the most exclusive rooftop lounges in the city. Through a series of fake social profiles and well-placed flirtations, she’d found out that Aditya sometimes came here after late-night meetings.

This time, she looked different—bold red lips, heels, a velvet black dress hugging every inch of her. She perched at the bar, keeping her posture elegant but her eyes locked onto the door.

And there he was.

Walking in like he owned the night. A storm in a three-piece suit.

She waited.

And when he passed her—she let her fingers brush against his.

Skin to skin.

For the first time.

He didn’t stop. But she saw it.

The brief flicker in his eye.

He felt it.

She didn’t sleep that night. She lay awake, replaying that second, her fingers trembling against her lips.

The Third Move

By now, Aditya’s silence was not rejection—it was a challenge. She started appearing everywhere he went.

Fundraisers. Galas. High-end stores. Charity auctions.

Always elegant. Always within sight.

And always alone.

One night, after a corporate gala, she stood at the valet queue, just ahead of him. She turned slightly, letting her perfume waft toward him—jasmine and vanilla, the one she knew he liked.

When she dropped her clutch and knelt to pick it up, her eyes caught his again.

This time—she didn’t look away.

And neither did he.

The Burn of Being Ignored

But he never said a word.

Never sent a message.

Never approached.

The silence became unbearable. His cold distance cut deeper than any insult.

She began to spiral.

Walls in her apartment were now covered in photographs, articles, screenshots. His face. His voice. His habits. It wasn’t obsession anymore.

It was her existence.

“Why won’t you see me?” she whispered one night, staring at his picture under candlelight.
“Why won’t you love me back?”

She pressed her lips against the photo, smudging the ink.

And that night, something inside her finally snapped.

If he wouldn’t come to her...

She would take him.

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