My Fiancé's Uncle is Obsessed With Me

Emily

“Why do you have to go through with this engagement? Don’t you love me anymore?”

I paused.

I was standing near the restroom, watching them, they couldn't even close the door properly, it simply showed how foolish they were

The sound of Lily’s voice, pleading and soft, carried through the dim evening air. It was intimate, vulnerable.

Nathan’s arm tightened around her shoulder. “It’s not like that, Lily,” he said gently. “You know this isn’t a choice I could make on my own. It’s… it’s been decided since we were children. I don't have a say.”

Coward.

Lily’s lips trembled, but she pressed closer to him. Her cheek brushed his, and I noticed the subtle tilt of her head, the way she inhaled sharply, eyes flashing toward me even as she clung to him, a smirk on her lips.

I had expected this.

I had known, long before tonight, that there was history here. That something had existed between them, something tender, something unspoken. But the sight of it now—Lily’s quiet defiance and Nathan’s careful patience—made the irritation bubble in me. Not because I cared about Nathan. Not because I was jealous. I was above that.

It was the disrespect I felt, the audacity of their little display, right here at our engagement party.

In public, where anyone could see them, the recklessness.

Nathan leaned down, brushing his lips to Lily’s, soft at first, as if testing the waters, as if this kiss could smooth over the edges of their disagreement. Lily responded instantly, her hand moving to his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, eyes dark and smug as they found mine across the crowd.

That smirk. That deliberate, brazen look.

She was claiming him. In front of me. And worse, she was daring me to care.

Nathan’s lips moaned against hers, and I felt a small, uncomfortable twist in my stomach—not desire, but intrusion. The kiss deepened, unhurried, intimate, and for a moment I caught the faint scent of his cologne—the one Lily had always leaned into, the one I could never let myself forget.

I turned away.

The polite mask slid back into place as I returned to the party, my heels clicking against the polished stone, a smile painted carefully across my face. I raised a hand, nodded, and murmured the usual pleasantries to distant cousins, long-lost aunts, and family friends whose names I didn’t remember. My glass never left my hand. My voice never faltered.

Inside, I was counting the minutes, measuring their audacity, remembering the way Nathan’s hand rested on her waist, the ease with which she leaned into him. Their little performance of love—so obvious, so calculated—made my skin crawl. Not because I wanted Nathan, but because I had spent years learning to control my own space, my own image, my own boundaries. And now they trampled over them as though they were entitled to it.

I knew their story, their history. I had known before tonight. But witnessing it firsthand, seeing