My life was a blueprint of calculated moves. Every step I took across the college campus was fueled by the fire of my own ambition. I wasn't there just to study; I was there to build. My mind was a storm of business strategies and leadership goals, a map of how I would become the woman in charge. I was stressed, overworked, and completely focused on a future where I held all the power.
Then, the universe tripped me.
I was rushing up the stairs, my head full of projects, when my foot faltered on a concrete edge. As I looked down to steady myself, a pair of shoes entered my vision. They weren't just footwear; they were a statement of impeccable taste. Sharp, clean, and sophisticated.
In that brief moment of clumsiness, a thought pierced through my professional haze: Finally, someone here has taste.
I went to look up, to see the face that matched that elegance, but he was already gone. He vanished into the crowd like a phantom, leaving only a strange, sharp sting in my chest. It was a physical ache, a warning from a heart that didn't know it was about to be stolen. I forced myself to let it go. I had a business to run. I had a life to lead.
Days bled into each other. We might have stood in the same halls or breathed the same air, but I remained blind. I never saw his face, so I never knew that a shadow was already beginning to fall over my heart.
Then came the afternoon that changed the physics of my world.
I was walking through the campus when a sight caught me so far off guard that the blood seemed to freeze in my veins. There he was. He was leaning slightly, his side profile silhouetted against the light. He wore a crisp white shirt—the fabric bright and clean—but it was the way he wore it that destroyed my composure. The sleeves were folded back with surgical precision, stopping exactly at his elbows to reveal his forearms.
I couldn't look away from those arms. They were a map of power—olive skin stretched over lean muscle, with dark, heavy veins clearing a path toward his hands. I traced the subtle dark hair on his skin, the sheer strength in his posture.
Then I saw the details that would haunt my dreams. On his right wrist sat a heavy black watch, marking the seconds of a life I was no longer in control of. Beside it, a bracelet of black and white stones. I didn't know if they were simple river stones or rare, precious gems; all I knew was that they belonged to him, and therefore, they were sacred.
His side profile was a masterpiece of devastation. Dark, thick hair; glasses that sat perfectly on a straight nose, framing eyes that I knew were a deep, swirling dark brown. And his lips—plump, beautiful, and silent. He was looking away from me, his gaze fixed on something I couldn't see, but his presence was a physical weight on my chest.
My reaction was laughable. I was a future leader of industry, yet I stood there like a statue, frozen in time. My heart didn't just beat; it revolted, hammering against my ribs until it hurt. My breath didn't just hitch; it vanished. I stood there for what felt like an hour, rooted to the spot, watching the way the white fabric of his shirt strained against his broad shoulders and blue jeans.
He moved. He walked away in his sneakers, disappearing into the crowd without ever knowing I existed.
I remained, but I was empty. My mind, my heart, my very soul had packed up and followed him. I was stubborn; I tried to tell myself it was a crush, a momentary lapse in logic. But deep down, I knew the truth. This was the start of a beautiful, dark devastation.
The businesswoman was dead. The obsessed devotee was born.