I should have avoided watching her.
But avoidance was harder than control.
Her beauty wasn't loud.
She wasn't the kind who turned every head the moment she entered a room.
But once you looked—
you didn't know where else to place your eyes.
She stood quietly.
That quiet wasn't weakness; it carried weight.
As if she refused to join the world's noise.
And I…
I wanted to be the only one who noticed.
Every time my gaze found her, something stirred inside me.
It wasn't possession—not yet.
But jealousy comes before possession.
The moment I sensed someone else's eyes on her,
my shoulders tensed.
Not my body—my mind moved first.
She wasn't looking at anyone.
But everyone was looking at her.
I didn't like that thought.
Her smile was brief and rare.
When she smiled, it felt reserved for one person.
I wanted to know who.
That want had a name—jealousy.
I didn't step closer.
If I did, I would be admitting it.
And admission meant there was no turning back.
Her beauty wasn't an invitation.
It was a challenge.
I was looking at something no one was meant to reach.
And I wasn't ready to be the first to pay the price.
But there was a voice inside me.
Low. Insistent.
Don't let them look.
That was the day jealousy learned my name.
And I realized silencing it would be harder than I thought.