Six years ago.
The rain tapped softly against the glass windows of the mansion, creating a rhythm that almost sounded like a lullaby.
Almost.
I sat at my study desk, my legs barely reaching the floor, a thick dictionary open in front of me.
My tutor continued explaining the lesson, his voice fading into the background as my eyes wandered across the endless pages filled with words.
A dictionary.
Humans were strange.
They created thousands of words to describe feelings they barely understood themselves.
My fingers stopped on a random page.
Hello.
My eyes scanned the definition.
"A greeting used to welcome or acknowledge someone's presence."
I tilted my head slightly.
"Hello..."
I repeated it quietly.
A simple word.
A harmless word.
People used it when meeting someone new.
A beginning.
A welcome.
A door opening.
I closed the dictionary halfway.
"That's it?"
My expression remained blank.
"People made a whole word just to announce someone's existence?"
Childish.
I wanted something more interesting.
Something complicated.
Something humans couldn't explain properly.
My eyes moved down the page.
And then i saw it.
Love.
For the first time that evening, my attention stopped drifting.
I read the definition carefully.
"A deep feeling of affection, attachment, and care toward someone."
I stared.
Attachment.
Care.
Affection.
The words sounded ordinary.
But humans treated love like it was something magical.
Something powerful.
Something worth destroying themselves for.
I turned the page.
Then i found another word.
Obsession.
My eyes narrowed slightly.
"An intense and overwhelming fixation toward someone or something."
That was different.
Interesting.
"What's the difference between love and obsession?"
My tutor looked up from his book.
The question seemed innocent.
But something about the way she asked it made the room feel colder.
"Love and obsession can look similar from the outside," he explained. "But they come from different places."
I rested my chin on my hand.
"How?"
"Love means you care about someone. You want their happiness. You want them to choose you, but you also respect their choice."
He paused.
"Love needs connection. It wants to be returned."
I listened silently.
Returned.
So love was a transaction.
A person gives something and waits for something back.
My tutor continued.
"Obsession is different. Sometimes it's not about the other person's happiness. It's about your own desire. You want that person because you can't imagine losing them."
"So..."
My eyes moved back to the word.
"Obsession doesn't need permission?"
My tutor hesitated.
"In a way... obsession can become like possession. A person may stop seeing someone as a person and start seeing them as something they own."
Something they own.
Those words stayed in my mind.
Love wanted to be chosen.
Obsession wanted to have.
I smiled slowly.
Not because i understood.
Because i was fascinated.
Before i could ask another question
"Hello."
The voice came from the doorway.
I looked up.
Asher stood there.
A normal entrance.
A normal greeting.
A normal person.
But the world changed
He was eighteen years old, and in my eyes, he was the most handsome person I had ever seen after my father.
According to the definitions my tutor had given me moments ago... my dad was my first ever obsession. The first person who had ever occupied my mind so completely, the first person I had ever wanted to understand, to study, and to keep close.
The sound of the rain disappeared.
The ticking clock stopped.
The room that was once dull and colourless suddenly transformed into something unfamiliar.
Not the warm, dreamy world people described when they fell in love.
No.
This wasn't pink skies and gentle music.
It was darker.
The lights seemed softer, but the shadows grew longer.
The air felt heavier.
Like the world itself had paused to introduce something dangerous.
My imagination painted him differently.
Not as a person.
As an idea.
A thought.
A fascination.
A question i wanted to answer.
A mystery i wanted to solve.
My heartbeat didn't race.
My cheeks didn't warm.
There were no butterflies.
Those things were childish.
I was interested because he was unfamiliar.
Because he was something I didn't understand yet.
And I wanted to understand.
I looked at the word again in my mind.
Obsession.
It didn't need to be loved.
It didn't need to be accepted.
It only needed someone to become important enough.
A smile slowly formed on my lips.
For the first time, the word hello felt interesting.
Because... maybe some greetings weren't just introductions.
Maybe they were beginnings.
I looked at him.
And silently, inside my mind, I said
"Hello..."
"My new obsession."
PRESENT DAY.
Four months.
That was how long I had been performing the role everyone wanted to see.
Four months of smiles.
Four months of kindness.
People always underestimate how easy it is to become someone they want to believe in.
All you need is patience.
And the right expression.
I sat on my bed in the darkness, the only light in the room coming from the television screen in front of me.
On it was a live view of another room.
A room I had been watching for the past four months.
Four months ago, I gave my mother a porcelain doll. A beautiful little thing with innocent eyes, sitting quietly in her room. She thought it was just a gift. She never realized it was something that watched and listened
And for her, a harmless little thing.
At least, that was what she thought.
Humans were funny.
They trusted things when they came wrapped as kindness.
They never questioned the hand that offered them comfort.
My eyes stayed fixed on the screen as my mother sat across from my father.
Her voice was quiet.
"Something about Lune feels different."
I smiled slightly.
Different.
That was the word everyone used when they couldn't explain something.
"These past four months, ever since she agreed to marry Asher... she has been acting strangely. She's too kind. Too calm. I'm scared that something is wrong."
I leaned back against my bed.
There it was.
The suspicion.
The fear.
The tiny crack in her trust.
But a crack was useless if it wasn't ignored.
And luckily for me, my father was predictable.
His expression changed instantly.
Anger.
Always anger.
"You're always like this."
His voice became louder.
"You always suspect us. Can't you just accept that something good can happen to you for once?"
I watched silently.
My smile grew.
"Why are you always so pathetic? This is exactly why I never loved you. Your behavior is so unattractive."
The words filled the room.
Even through the screen, I could feel the weight of them.
My mother lowered her eyes.
She always did that.
Like if she looked away, the pain would disappear.
My father continued.
"Tomorrow is her wedding. Do not ruin anything with your doubts."
Tomorrow.
My wedding day.
The day everyone thought was a happy ending.
The day they believed the monster had finally become human.
I reached for the remote.
Click.
The screen went black.
Silence returned.
And then...
I laughed.
Quietly at first.
Then louder.
Not because something was funny.
Because something was finally perfect.
"That's it."
I whispered into the darkness.
"Exactly what I wanted."
I stood up slowly.
"Trust."
I walked closer to the window.
"Blind trust."
My reflection stared back at me.
"Hope."
"Faith."
"People don't need proof to believe in something."
"They only need something they desperately want to be true."
I smiled.
"And when people want something badly enough, they become willing to ignore everything that tells them otherwise."
My eyes moved toward the corner of the room.
A large painting stood there.
Asher.
I walked toward it.
The painting was something I had created a few years ago.
Back when my fascination with him was at its strongest.
Back when he was still an interesting mystery.
I remembered almost throwing it away when I grew bored.
Almost.
But then I realized something.
A person is easier to control when they believe they are special.
So I placed the painting back.
I let him believe that my feelings had returned.
That I finally saw him differently.
That I loved him.
Such a beautiful illusion.
I reached out and touched the painted face.
"My dear Asher..."
My voice softened.
"I'm sorry for using you."
A small smile appeared.
"But you wanted this too, didn't you?"
"You wanted to believe that you were the person who could change me."
I tilted my head.
"You wanted to be the exception."
My fingers traced the painting.
"And people are always easiest to manipulate when they are chasing a dream."
A voice suddenly came from behind me.
"Lune?"
I turned around.
My mother stood at the doorway.
Her eyes moved from me to the painting.
Then to the darkness surrounding the room.
"Why are you sitting here in the dark?"
I smiled.
"It's not that dark, Mommy."
I looked toward the window.
"The street lamp is enough."
I turned back to her.
"Sometimes darkness makes it easier to think."
She slowly walked closer.
Her expression was filled with worry.
"What are you planning?"
The question was soft.
Almost desperate.
"Please, Lune."
She held my hands.
"Don't ruin tomorrow. Don't destroy your own happiness."
I looked at her.
For a moment, I simply stared.
She looked so fragile.
So desperate to save something she couldn't even see was already broken.
I lifted my hands and gently held her face.
"You know..."
I smiled.
"You're really cute when you look this worried."
Her eyes widened slightly.
"Especially when you look so helpless."
The word escaped before I could stop it.
Helpless.
That was what she was.
Not because she was weak.
Because she still believed she had a choice.
I let go of her face.
She looked at me for a few seconds longer.
Like she was trying to find the little girl she once knew.
But she wouldn't find her.
That girl disappeared a long time ago.
My mother finally left the room.
The door closed.
I stared at it.
She would cry tonight.
I was certain of it.
She would sit somewhere alone and wonder where she went wrong.
She would wish she could change something.
Save something.
Fix something.
But that was the funniest part.
People always realized they were powerless only after they lost their power.
I looked back at Asher's painting.
Tomorrow, everyone would smile.
Tomorrow, everyone would celebrate.
Tomorrow, they would finally see what they wanted to see.
A bride.
A daughter.
A happy ending.
And nobody would notice the person standing behind that smile.
Nobody ever does.
I reached for the curtains of the windows and slowly drew them closed, blocking the outside world from entering.
The room became completely dark.
Perfect.
Because the darkest things were always the hardest to see.