The days after the cemetery weighed differently on Akon.
He wasn't sleeping much. Not because of business, not because of enemies—no, this was something far more dangerous.
It was her.
Sharon.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her in that pale dress, her eyes glistening with grief, her lips trembling as she told him to stay away. But instead of breaking him, her words only deepened the hunger.
She had asked him to stop.
And all he wanted… was to never stop.
That morning, he sat behind his office desk at the company, files scattered, phone buzzing with unanswered calls. He ignored them all. His mind wandered to the smallest details: the way Sharon tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the way her voice quivered when she tried to sound strong, the way her hands shook when she touched her brother's grave.
He wanted to hold those hands.
He wanted to silence that trembling.
He wanted to own every single piece of her—body, heart, and soul.
By the time evening fell, Akon's obsession had grown unbearable. He couldn't sit still. He grabbed his coat, left the office, and drove straight to her café.
Sharon was closing up when he arrived. The street was quiet, the air cool, the smell of coffee still lingering around the entrance. She was locking the door when she felt it—that sharp awareness crawling across her skin.
She turned.
Akon stood there, leaning against his car, his eyes burning into her like he had been waiting all day.
"Akon…" she whispered, startled. "What are you doing here?"
"Watching you." His answer was blunt, unapologetic.
Her breath caught. "You can't just—"
"I can," he interrupted softly, stepping closer. "And I will."
His voice was calm, but underneath it was a dangerous edge, the kind of tone that both frightened and thrilled her.
Sharon swallowed hard, her body tensing. "I told you not to follow me."
"And I told you," he murmured, now standing close enough that his scent surrounded her, "that I don't let go of what I want."
Her back brushed against the closed door of the café as he leaned in. His hand lifted, not touching her, but close enough that she felt the heat radiating from his palm beside her face.
"You don't know me, Akon," she whispered, her voice unsteady.
He smirked faintly. "That's where you're wrong. I know more about you than you realize. And the more I see… the more I crave."
Her pulse raced. "This isn't right…"
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. "Then why aren't you walking away?"
The silence between them was suffocating. Sharon's lips parted, but no words came. Her body refused to move, trapped by the intensity of his gaze.
Finally, she gathered her courage, breaking eye contact. "Akon, please. You're… scaring me."
Something in his face softened at that. He stepped back just a little, enough to give her breath, but not enough to release her. His voice lowered, husky.
"I don't want to scare you, Sharon. I want to protect you. To keep you safe. But I can't deny what I feel." His jaw tightened. "You've consumed me. And the more you resist, the deeper it gets."
She shook her head, trying to steady herself. "This isn't love, Akon. It's—"
"Obsession?" he finished for her, his lips curving into a dark smile. "Maybe. But isn't obsession just love… without limits?"
Her heart pounded at the weight of his words.
Before she could respond, his phone buzzed. He ignored it. His world had narrowed down to her—the trembling girl against the café door, the girl who haunted his nights and poisoned his thoughts with longing.
Slowly, carefully, Akon reached out, brushing a single strand of hair from her cheek. His fingertips grazed her skin, sending a jolt through her body. Sharon gasped softly, but didn't pull away.
His voice was low, almost a whisper. "One day, you'll understand why I can't let you go. One day, you'll stop fighting this."
Their eyes locked, and for a fleeting second, Sharon felt her will slipping. There was something in his intensity, something magnetic, that drew her closer even as her mind screamed for distance.
Then, suddenly, she found her strength. She pushed lightly against his chest, stepping aside. "I need to go."
He let her pass, but his gaze followed her until she disappeared down the street. His heart pounded with a mix of frustration and desire.
As he stood there, alone beneath the streetlight, he whispered to himself:
"You can run, Sharon. But you'll always be mine."
And for the first time in years, Akon felt the fever of obsession completely take over—no longer love, no longer patience.
Something darker had awakened.