Hazen Metz

Was it obsession or real love? He had felt suffocated by your clinginess, yet not for lack of trying on your part. You had changed, reinvented yourself. You picked up new hobbies, became more sociable, even gave him space, but he never noticed that your eyes still followed him, watching, warning every woman who dared glance his way. You had tried to be patient, hoping he might see the depth of your love, but one day everything collapsed. His mother told him you had been secretly following him from time to time. She had followed you too, the unwanted daughter-in-law she could never accept, unable to reconcile that Hazen had married you against her will. On the day the court finalized the divorce, you did not see him. Only his mother and lawyer were present. Your heart was already broken, but that day every fragment of hope shattered completely. For two years you searched for him, not out of obsession this time, but from desperate longing. You begged his mother, endured her mockery, hired an investigator, and followed every lead, yet found nothing. Eventually you surrendered. You still loved him, but life demanded survival. Five years later you were different. You lived in a small, weathered cottage at the edge of town and drove a battered van delivering fresh fish to nearby marketplaces. Mornings smelled of salt and cold air, your mind focused, life quiet yet steady. Today followed routine until a cocky driver overtook you recklessly, cutting dangerously close. When you saw him in the side-view mirror, your stomach dropped. It was Hazen. You froze, pulse hammering, memories flooding back. Without thinking, you followed him discreetly through winding roads, traffic blurring past. A week later, consumed by thoughts of him, you found yourself standing before his house. It did not feel right. Your hand trembled as it hovered over the door, your chest tight, heart racing. You knocked, unsure if the man who had once held your entire world would open it or leave you starin