I woke up with a sense of exhilaration from the previous evening's private viewing. I had learned so much about Mahir's passion for art and his enigmatic persona. However, my obsession with him was only growing stronger, and I knew that my next step had to be carefully planned.

As I sipped my morning coffee, I replayed the events of the gallery in my mind. Mahir had been surrounded by admirers and critics, his every word and gesture meticulously calculated. Yet, beneath the polished exterior, I sensed something more-an intensity that matched my own fixation.

My thoughts were interrupted when I noticed a subtle shift in my emotions. A growing irritation gnawed at me as I thought about Mahir's relationship with Isabella Cruz, the name taken repeatedly with Mahir's .I had done some digging and discovered that Isabella was an art consultant and had been closely working with Mahir. Their interactions seemed almost too familiar, their chemistry undeniable.

A pang of jealousy surged through me. Why did Isabella get to share a part of Mahir's world that I was still trying to penetrate? I couldn't stand the thought of someone else being so close to him, and it fueled my determination to assert my presence.

In a fit of possessive resolve, I decided to make a statement. I instructed my assistant to send a bouquet of deep red roses to Mahir. Accompanying the flowers was a note I had carefully crafted. I wanted to make my feelings unmistakably clear, and the note was my way of drawing a line.

*"To My Saint,

Every moment you spend with others only reaffirms how deeply you belong to me. These flowers are a mere token of my unwavering affection. Remember, no matter where you go, you are mine alone.

I hope you appreciate these roses. If you don't, perhaps I should send white roses covered in someone's blood instead.

With love
Yours always...."*

It was a message dripping with the intensity of my emotions-a blend of passion, jealousy, and an unwavering sense of ownership. I wanted Mahir to understand that my feelings were not just fleeting infatuation but something far deeper and darker.

The delivery boy came with the bouquet for the last confirmation. I myself placed the note delicately (having a lipstick mark) ofc, I had to seal it with a kiss for my saint. I gave the payment to the delivery boy and instructed him one last time and he left.

As I prepared for the day, I couldn't shake the image of Mahir's potential reaction to the roses. I imagined him receiving the flowers and the note, his curiosity piqued. Would he sense the underlying message? Would he understand that I was not just another admirer, but someone who was willing to go to great lengths for him?

The day stretched on, filled with meetings and mundane tasks, but my mind remained fixated on Mahir. I was eager to see how he would respond to my gesture. The waiting was maddening, but it was a necessary part of the game I was playing.

In the late afternoon, I received a call from my assistant. "The flowers have been delivered,mam. Mr. Singhania received them this morning."

"Good"

My heart skipped a beat. I was both anxious and excited, anticipating his reaction. I knew that Mahir was perceptive and would understand the gravity of my message. I hoped that the roses and my words would stir something within him, making him more aware of my presence.

As the evening approached, I found myself wandering through the city, my mind racing with thoughts of Mahir. I passed by shops and cafes, but none of them could distract me from the obsessive train of thought that dominated my mind. I was consumed by the need to know how Mahir would respond and whether my message had achieved its intended impact.

I finally returned home, feeling restless. I wanted to be close to Mahir, to understand his reactions and emotions. The thought of Isabella being a part of his world was a constant thorn in my side, but I was determined to push through the jealousy and focus on my goal.

The night was filled with a restless energy as I awaited any sign or response from Mahir. I knew that he might take some time to process the message, but I was ready to be patient. My obsession with him had only deepened, and I was prepared for whatever challenges lay ahead.

As I lay in bed, my thoughts lingered on the private viewing and the impression I hoped I had made. I imagined Mahir, alone in his luxurious apartment, holding the bouquet of red roses. I wondered if he felt the weight of my words and if he was beginning to realize just how deeply I was invested in him.

I took one of his picture,as I lay there. My saint was smiling so cutely. "Saint, can't I just bring you here" I sigh "no worries,baby..you will soon be with me" I smile at the picture " just stay away from those witches like Isabella,okay love.." I kissed the picture and kept it beside me.

The night was still and quiet, but inside me, a storm of emotions raged. My desire to be closer to Mahir and to unravel the mysteries of his life was unwavering. The next steps in my journey were clear-I needed to keep pushing, to assert my presence and make Mahir fully aware of the depth of my obsession.

With a final thought of Mahir, I closed my eyes, determined to continue my pursuit and to confront the challenges that lay ahead. My heart was set on making Mahir see me as more than just an admirer, but as someone who was willing to go to any lengths to be a part of his world.
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AN: So, my dear butterflies 🌷
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