Ch.229229. A Feeling That’s Not Entirely Unpleasant – side. Hwanabi

This might sound a bit out of the blue, but let me tell you a story from the past.

When I was a student, about seven years ago, my mother was extremely overprotective of me.

You know how it often appears in dramas and movies? Someone who monitors their child’s every move, interferes with their friendships, and tries to control everything. That was exactly what my mother was like.

Whenever she saw me hanging out with friends at school or academy, she would interrogate me about their family background, what their parents did for a living, and how well they studied. If I tried to contact someone on my phone, she would press me with questions like: Who is that? A school friend? An academy friend? It’s not someone of the opposite sex, is it? She wouldn’t stop until I answered.

Looking at my mother now, it might be hard to imagine she treated me that way, but she was truly excessive back then. If my older sister hadn’t deliberately turned the household upside down when she turned twenty, would my mother still be like that now?

Whatever the catalyst was, my mother changed her attitude after my sister’s actions. Perhaps shocked by her firstborn’s rebellion(?), she became much more lenient.

No, beyond lenient—she seemed to have half-released us. When I said I wanted to live independently, my father opposed it more strongly than my mother did.

Well, anyway, these trivial details aren’t important. The reason I suddenly brought up this story from the past is because I wanted to express how much I detest overprotectiveness.

Yes, I hate overprotectiveness. I hate when someone becomes obsessed with me. I can’t even imagine myself becoming obsessed with someone else. Even if I were to fall in love someday, I would love someone who gives me freedom.

“How’s your ankle? Is it okay?”

—Four years after making that resolution, I was sitting at the edge of a bed while someone was touching my ankle.

That someone kneeling at the foot of the bed is the person I love. The person who is now my husband.

I adjusted my position on the bed and observed him. Perhaps because he had carried me to the bedroom on his back, his bangs were damp with sweat. I gently wiped his forehead and said:

“I’m fine, but… are you okay? Look at your sweat, your hair is all wet.”

“I’m fine. I’m not sweating because it was difficult. It’s just hot outside.”

He gently grabbed my wrist to stop me, then wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. I opened the drawer at the bedside and took out a few tissues to hand to him.

“Since you don’t have a handkerchief, use these to wipe for now. Oh, and make sure to wash your face later. Leaving sweat on your skin isn’t good for it.”

“It’s fine. I barely sweated, it’ll dry on its own.”

“What? No, that won’t do. Leaving sweat unwashed will damage your skin.”

Alarmed that he wouldn’t take the tissues, I used them to wipe his sweat myself. It’s a temporary solution, but better than doing nothing.

As I carefully wiped his forehead, the bridge of his nose, and behind his chin, he suddenly spoke while enjoying my touch.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while, but Nabi, you’re quite obsessed with my skin.”

“…Obsessed?”

“Yeah. Oh, maybe ‘obsessed’ isn’t the right word? But I can’t think of a better one. ‘Overprotective’… doesn’t quite fit either, right?”

My heart sank at his casual words. Obsessed? Overprotective? I never expected to hear such words from him…

My expression must have hardened without me realizing it, because he quickly shook his head.

“Don’t misunderstand, I don’t mean it negatively. You’re just caring for me in your own way, right? I didn’t say it before, but I’m really grateful that you care about these small details.”

“…”

Seeing my lack of response, I could feel him becoming unsure of what to do.

After fumbling with his lips for a while, unable to find the right words, he carefully asked:

“Are you upset? If so, I’m sorry, but that’s not what I meant…”

“…Heh.”

*Smooch*

My lips touched his forehead and then pulled away. Still kneeling at the foot of the bed, he rubbed his forehead with his palm, seemingly dazed by my kiss. Judging by his blank reaction, he still hadn’t fully grasped the situation.

Really, how can someone usually so sharp become so innocent at times like this? For his sake, as he couldn’t tell if this was a dream or reality, I whispered quietly:

“It’s not like that.”

“Uh, what?”

“I said I’m not upset.”

“Then why did you suddenly go quiet?”

“Hmm, I just had some things to think about.”

When I responded as if it was nothing, he murmured “Ah… really?” and nodded. I placed my right hand on his head and gently stroked it.

“Were you really watching my reaction just now because of that one comment? Worried I might be upset?”

“Well, your expression suddenly hardened. I thought I’d said something wrong.”

“I told you it wasn’t like that, didn’t I? Besides, you usually don’t care much about others’ reactions, so why today?”

“Nabi. You don’t know… no, never mind.”

He shook his head, seeming to have a lot he wanted to say. To continue stroking his hair, I shifted my hips slightly forward and gently caressed it.

“Your fingers will get wet doing that.”

“That’s just part of life. I can wash them later.”

“You always have an answer…”

Though he gave a wry smile, he didn’t avoid my hand. Probably a silent permission to continue touching him.

While maintaining eye contact, I played with the back of his hair for a while, then quietly pulled him closer. Interpreting this as some kind of signal, he obediently moved forward and placed his knees between my legs.

Then, he lightly held my shoulders and closed his eyes. The next action would naturally be…

*Soft*

“…Huh?”

He let out a bewildered sound. The reason was obvious—his face was buried in my chest.

Seemingly not expecting this situation, he was quite flustered and tried to back away from my embrace. But I firmly held the back of his head, preventing him from moving.

“Um, Nabi?”

“If you talk, your breath tickles.”

He closed his mouth, about to say something. Holding him in my arms, I stroked his head and slowly began:

“Yes, you’re right. I am obsessed with you.”

“Why are you suddenly bringing that up…”

“I told you, talking makes it tickle.”

“…”

He steadied himself by gripping the bed sheet. I had indirectly told him to just listen without speaking, and fortunately, he seemed to understand.

“But you know, I actually really hate it when someone is obsessed with me. I hate being overprotected too. So I always promised myself that if I ever fell in love, I wouldn’t become obsessed with the other person…”

“…But?”

This man keeps talking even when I told him not to. I pressed the back of his head firmly, burying his face deeper into my chest, and whispered:

“If you speak one more time, I’ll press you against my bare skin.”

Since we haven’t changed clothes yet, we’re still in our swimsuits under our cover t-shirts. Knowing this, he refrained from speaking.

“Anyway, I made that promise, but I guess human hearts don’t work as planned. Despite promising not to be obsessed, I’m extremely obsessed, and despite deciding not to be overprotective, I’m very overprotective.”

It’s fortunate that I’m holding him against my chest rather than facing him—it would have been awkward to say this face-to-face. I sighed deeply and slowly stroked his head.

“I’m sorry. You probably don’t like women who are obsessive like me, right?”

“What are you talking about? Who said that?”

As soon as he finished speaking, he lifted his head and grabbed my shoulders. I was startled as I was about to continue speaking, and looked at him.

His eyes, gazing at me, were more serious than ever.

“Let me be clear so you don’t misunderstand—I like it when my woman is obsessed with me. It means you like me that much, right? I consider it a form of affection.”

“…Really?”

“Yes, really. And you might not know this, but… I’m actually extremely obsessive and overprotective too. Look at today. Even though your ankle wasn’t badly hurt, I immediately brought you to the room. I can’t stand seeing even the slightest scratch on my woman’s body.”

“…”

It’s strange. Obsession and overprotectiveness are things I should dislike… but oddly enough, I didn’t feel bad hearing that he was obsessed with me.

Moreover, the phrase “my woman” kept echoing in my ears.

His gaze was so serious that I tried not to show it, but the words sounded so good that I almost asked him to say them again.

“Nabi, you are my woman for life.”

“…W-what?”

For a moment, I was genuinely surprised, thinking he had read my mind. He looked at me with confusion as my face turned bright red.

“Why are you surprised? You asked me to.”

“I-I did? When?”

“Just now. You asked me to call you ‘my woman’ one more time. Did you already forget?”

“Oh… did I?”

…When did I say that? I must have spoken without realizing it.

Half embarrassed, half excited, I could only fumble with my words. He naturally embraced me.

“I’ll call you that whenever you want, by your side for life.”

“…”

The word “for life” made my heart race. This might sound like an excuse, but… how could I not become obsessed when he’s like this?

A man who intuitively understands what I want, treats me kindly, and occasionally does certain things to my liking… I challenge any woman to meet a man like him and not be drawn to him.

“Um, honey. I’m sorry, but I have a favor to ask.”

“Yes, what is it? Ask me anything.”

“I’d like to change my clothes…”

He hesitated despite saying I could ask anything. He probably thought I wasn’t asking him to help me change.

After thinking for a moment, he asked with a slightly disappointed face:

“Ah… should I wait in the living room for a bit?”

“Mmm, that would be helpful.”

“Alright, I’ll wait outside. Change comfortably, and let me know if you need anything.”

“Okay. I will.”

*Click* After telling me twice to call if I needed anything, he left the bedroom. Alone, I stared at the closed door, then turned to look at my travel bag.

Inside that bag… are things essential for this trip.

Things needed not for the day, but for the night.

“…”

I swallowed nervously for no apparent reason. Then I slowly got up and approached the travel bag.

“…I wonder if he’ll like these.”