His Sweetest Obsession

The estate on the outskirts of town was far too spacious for a small family to live in, and far too quiet for a woman whose heart had only just been shattered into a thousand pieces.

Lyra awoke as the clock struck two in the morning. It was not the alarm that roused her, but the all-too-familiar ache in her chest—a cruel biological reminder that her body was still producing milk, while her own baby had long since been laid to rest beneath the cold earth.

Outside, the autumn wind howled softly. The branches of the ancient oak trees swayed in the wind, occasionally striking the estate’s stone walls with an irregular tapping that sounded like a whisper from afar. A steady drizzle fell, soaking the gravel-lined path and carrying the scent of damp earth that drifted in through the vents.

Then, from the next room, a baby’s cry pierced the silence.

Lyra closed her eyes for a moment. That cry was not her child’s. It would never be her child’s again.

With slow, deliberate movements, she rose from the bed. She draped a loose knitted cardigan over the sheer silk slip dress she wore to bed. Then she stepped out into the darkness, heading towards her employers’ baby’s room.

As the door opened slightly, Lyra caught sight of Elena’s silhouette beneath the dim glow of a star-patterned nightlight.

The woman looked nothing like her usual self. Her usually immaculate hair was disheveled, loose strands sticking out in every direction. The baby in her arms kept crying, his tiny body wriggling restlessly as he kicked at the air.

Elena tried offering the milk bottle once more, but the little one immediately turned his face away and cried even louder.

“Come on, darling… please. Just a little for Mommy,” Elena murmured softly.

Her voice was hoarse with exhaustion. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, while her pale face revealed just how long she had been struggling alone that night. Panic flickered through every movement she made.

From that distance, Lyra could see the glint of tears beginning to well up in Elena’s eyes.

Lyra stepped closer. “Let me do it, ma’am."

Elena gave a slight start, then turned her head. Her swollen eyes met Lyra’s gaze. There was such palpable relief there, and also a deep sense of guilt that was almost painful to witness.

“Lyra…” her voice trembled. “I’ve tried. Again and again. But my milk just won’t come.”

Elena looked down at her son, then closed her eyes.

“Theo won’t stop crying.”

Lyra reached out and gently took the baby from Elena, whose arms trembled with exhaustion. The moment she gathered him into her arms, the crying eased, as if the baby had rediscovered the warmth it had been seeking all along.

“You really ought to get some rest,” Lyra said softly, rocking the baby in her arms. “Let me look after him tonight.”

Elena let out a long sigh. The tension that had been weighing on her shoulders seemed to melt away in an instant.

“Thank you, Lyra,” she whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”

Lyra offered a small smile in return.

A few moments later, Elena stumbled from the room, barely able to keep her eyes open.

Lyra sat in a rocking chair by the window. She loosened the buttons of her cardigan and held the baby closer to her chest. The intimacy soothed something inside her while breaking her heart all over again.

Silence enveloped them both. There was only the sound of soft breathing, the gentle creak of the rocking chair, and Lyra’s heartbeat, which was slowly returning to normal.

For a moment, as the tiny body lay comfortably in her arms, the ache in her chest eased slightly.

Thirty minutes later, after the baby had fallen back asleep, Lyra felt an overwhelming thirst. She went downstairs, her bare feet making almost no sound on the cold marble floor.

The kitchen was lit only by the dim glow from the cooker hood. Lyra poured cold water into a glass, then drank it greedily until a few drops trickled from the corner of her lips, moistening her neck and sliding down to her chest, which still felt hot.

As she set the glass back on the table, something changed.

The air around her suddenly felt different. The scent of vanilla and milk that had clung to her body was slowly overtaken by another, unfamiliar fragrance—sandalwood, fine tobacco, and the chill of the night air carried in from outside.

Lyra spun around quickly.

Her breath caught in her throat.

A man stood there, leaning casually against the dark pillar that separated the dining room from the kitchen. He was tall and well-built, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair was slightly disheveled, as though he had run his fingers through it over and over again.

What made Lyra freeze was not his appearance, but his eyes. His dark eyes stared at her with an unsettling intensity, as if capable of piercing through her skin and reading every secret she was trying to hide.

Lyra instinctively pulled her cardigan tighter around herself.

But it was too late.

The man’s gaze had lingered on the faint wet stain visible beneath the thin fabric covering her chest before slowly returning to her face.

“Who are you?”

His voice was deep and slightly hoarse, breaking the suffocating silence that had hung over the kitchen for some time.

Lyra took a step back. Her waist bumped against the edge of the kitchen counter. “I-I…” Her throat suddenly felt dry. “I’m the wet nurse here.”

The man didn’t blink. Rather than stepping back, he moved closer, closing the distance between them until Lyra could feel the warmth of his body. Her breath caught in her throat as he lowered his head.

His nose hovered near the curve of her neck as he drew in a slow breath. The movement was so bold, so primal, that it made Lyra’s whole body tense up.

“Wet nurse?” he repeated, his voice low. “No wonder.”

His gaze swept across Lyra’s face for a moment before locking onto her eyes once more.

“This whole room suddenly smells like something…” He paused briefly, as though searching for the right word. “…very sweet.”

Lyra instinctively pressed her back more firmly against the edge of the counter. Her instincts screamed at her to back away, but her feet remained rooted to the floor.

“I’m Kael.” There was a brief pause before the corners of his lips turned up slightly. "I have a feeling I'll be thirsty quite often while I'm staying here.”

Lyra’s heart seemed to stop beating for a moment, then began slamming against her ribs. The man’s gaze unsettled her in a way she couldn’t explain. Panic tightened around her throat.

“I-I…” Lyra swallowed hard. “I have to go back to my room.” Her voice was so soft it was almost lost in the kitchen’s silence.

As Lyra tried to shift away to escape, a large, warm hand closed around her wrist. It wasn’t painful, but it was firm enough to stop her in her tracks.

Lyra flinched. She pulled her hand away, but to no avail. Her breathing began to quicken. “Let go,” she pleaded softly, tears gathering in her eyes.

Kael didn’t let go. He simply stared at Lyra for a few more seconds, then pulled her a little closer. Close enough that Lyra was forced to look once more into his gaze she couldn’t read at all.

In the dim light of the kitchen, Lyra saw the man’s Adam’s apple move slowly. His jaw tightened as if he were holding something back. The tension had appeared out of nowhere, sharp enough to make her pulse race.

Lyra continued to struggle slightly, but her strength was no match for the man’s. Her heart was pounding wildly, and just as she felt her tears about to spill, the pressure on her wrist suddenly vanished.

Without a second thought, Lyra turned and ran up the stairs. She didn’t dare look back. Not even once.

Once she reached her room, she locked the door with trembling hands. Her back slid against the door as she pressed a hand to her chest, trying to steady her breathing.

Who was that man?

Lyra closed her eyes tightly. Her mind tried to piece together what had happened in the kitchen a few minutes ago, but everything felt chaotic. Fear made it impossible to think clearly. She didn’t even really remember what Kael had said.

All that remained was a pair of dark eyes that continued to haunt her—eyes so intense they made it hard to breathe.

And that deep voice.

Downstairs, Kael was still standing in the same spot. Slowly, he raised the hand that had been gripping the woman’s wrist, then brought it close to his face. The trace of her scent was still there.

The corners of his lips curled up slightly.

It had been a long time since anything had captured his attention this quickly. His eyes glinted in the dim light of the kitchen. His return this time… turned out it wouldn’t be as boring as he’d thought.