Page 17 of Shattered Obsession

“I’m so happy to finally meet you in person.”

We walk inside together, and the mall envelops us in the warm, inviting scents of cinnamon pretzels and freshly brewed coffee, a comforting and familiar aroma. I hadn’t realized how much I craved the simplicity of the ordinary until this very moment. We start at the bookstore—my favorite place.

As Xander and I meander through the aisles, a sense of contentment washes over me. He observes me with an intensity that makes my cheeks flush, carefully noting the way my eyes flutter over the titles on the spines and how my hand lingers, hesitating just before I choose a book. When he gently presses a novel into my palms, his voice is soft yet filled with an earnest enthusiasm as he says, “Pick anything. It’s yours.” The words resonate in the depths of my chest, nearly stealing my breath away.

He waits beside me as I flip through the first few pages, the hush of the bookstore swallowing us whole. The faint creak of shelves and the rustle of turning paper become their own heartbeat. I feel his presence without needing to look, his warmth at my shoulder, the scent of cedar and rain clinging to his jacket. My pulse syncs with the rhythm of it all. For a moment, it feels like the world has paused, letting me exist here, safe, seen, and unhurried. I run my thumb along the book’s edge and imagine this is what normal feels like. Choosing something small that belongs only to me, without consequence. When our fingers brush, static jumps between us. He doesn’t pull away. Neither do I. He holds my hand while I roam the shelves, eventually deciding on a romance novel with a pink cover. He purchases it for me before we move on to continue our day.

Later, we find ourselves nestled among the whimsical creations of Build-A-Bear. His laughter breaks through the fading echoes of my worries. He brings a bear to life with a comical dance, its fuzzy limbs flailing in delight, eliciting a smile from my lips that grows wider with each silly movement. My cheeks ache happily from this newfound joy, an emotion that feels both foreign and exhilarating. He helps me pick a bear and stands with me in line as we wait to get it stuffed. The hum of the machine fills the space as cotton floods the bear’s stitched seams, and I catch myself laughing, an unguarded, startled sound I barely recognize. He notices, and the grin he gives me makes my stomach flip. For the first time in so long, laughter doesn’t feel like a risk.

He presses the little felt heart into my palm and says, “Make a wish.” I stare at it longer than necessary, unsure of what hope even looks like anymore, then tuck it inside the bear’s chest before the seam closes. “You didn’t tell me what you wished for,” he teases. I shrug, but my smile gives me away. I wished for this quiet warmth, the kind that doesn’t demand anything from me.

For so long, I thought peace had to be earned, that love was something to suffer for first. But here, surrounded by soft colors and childlike laughter, I realize peace can be simple. It can exist in a stuffed bear, in the hum of a sewing machine, in the steady rhythm of a heart that beats beside mine without asking for pieces in return. The thought lodges somewhere deep, fragile but real. Maybe I don’t have to be small to be safe. Maybe I just have to be seen.

Xander helps me pick clothes for it, deciding on a cute grey shirt that says ‘nap queen’, a small crown, a pair of black pants, and bunny slippers to go with it. When I offer to pay, he tells me he’s got it and even buys me the box to put the bear in so we can carry it around.

As we walk out of the store, I catch the smell of food coming from the food court.

“Are you hungry?”

He nods eagerly. In the midst of greasy slices of pizza, topped generously with gooey cheese and pepperoni, he leans back casually in his seat, his smile steady and sincere.

Then he asks a question that makes my heart flutter anxiously.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

For a moment, I’m frozen in time as panic rushes through me, and my pulse stutters, caught between hesitation and joy. I think about the past few weeks of talking nonstop, the way I feel like a human again with emotions other than endless sadness and hopelessness. But I also think about how it’s our first date, that it’s moving quickly and could be too fast. Saying no means we wait and continue dating. Saying yes also means we can continue to date, just with a label that could change at any time. I’m fueled by the joy this man brings me. It overpowers the memories, the fear, the ache, and that’s what helps me make my decision.

Like a breath of fresh air, the word spills from my lips easier than I expect.

“Yes.”

The sound hangs between us, fragile but certain. I feel it settle in my bones like something earned. His shoulders relax, and a small laugh escapes him, half relief, half disbelief. We sit here awkwardly in the middle of the food court, surrounded by the clatter of trays and the distant sound of deep fryers, and somehow, it feels sacred.

His hand finds mine on the table, fingers tracing small, absent-minded circles over my skin. The circles become hypnotic. Every pass of his fingertips sends ripples through my pulse. I try to steady my breathing, to keep the tremor in my hands from betraying me, but the human body remembers. Fear and want sometimes wear the same face. I meet his eyes and see patience there, the quiet kind that doesn’t ask for anything except truth.

I let out a shaky laugh and whisper, “You make me nervous.”

He smiles, brushing his thumb across my knuckles. “You make me nervous too.”

I want to stay in this moment instead of running from it.

After we finish our food, we walk around the mall asking each other different questions. We talk for a few hours, covering topics of favorite hobbies, family life, siblings, what we do for work or school, and we even go over the questions we’ve already discussed. It feels easy to talk to him; he’s open to everything we talk about, answers every question honestly, and makes it easy to trust him.

When we’ve exhausted all of the stores and strolled around the mall for what feels like the whole day, he offers to drive me home.

Anxiety claws at my skin, the reminder of being stuck in a car with another man causing the sudden reaction—but Xander isn’t Damien. I told Isla she could go back home after dropping me off so she didn’t have to sit in the car all day, and seeing as I’ve already taken steps to push past my fears, I say yes.

The drive back to my apartment is short, and I know Isla is waiting inside for me to tell her how the date went.

As he walks me to my door, the cool night air brushes against my skin, and a flicker of apprehension ignites within me again. I find myself gripped by a familiar fear, terrified of what might come next, visions of unwelcome hands pushing boundaries I’ve set for myself, of being trapped in a corner with nowhere to escape. Yet, as he leans in, I realize it’s just a kiss. It’s delicate and unpretentious, a soft brush of lips that conveys warmth and understanding.

He pulls back slightly, searching my face with an unspoken question in his gaze, asking, “Are you okay?” I smile, and for the first time in weeks, the answer resides firmly within me. I am.

Every part of me expects something else to follow— pressure, demand, a sudden shift I can’t control—but nothing comes. He only exhales, a quiet breath that fogs the air between us. The simplicity of it unsettles me more than any grand gesture could.

Safety can feel disorienting when you’ve forgotten what it is.

He brushes his thumb over my jaw and smiles again, softer this time, as if to promise he won’t cross a line I haven’t drawn.