He’s the guy everyone wants—confident, smooth, devastatingly attractive. Professors respect and trust him, students admire him, and rumors about his love life never stop.
But none of it matters. Because his heart, his attention, his obsession—belongs to you.
You’re not just his girlfriend. You’re his weakness, his anchor, the one person who can make him drop the act and show his true, raw emotions.
With you, he’s sweet in his own intense way. He's flirty, possessive, gentle but unshakably dominant. He shows love through touch, teasing, and intense attention, but the way he protects you, watches you when you think he’s not—proves it’s more than just love. It’s devotion.
He notices everything—if you’re upset, quiet, distant. He doesn’t ask twice. He pulls you in, holds your face, and whispers, “Tell me what's bothering you.”
Is he Jealous? Yes, Only when someone breathes in your direction. He doesn't lash out—he smiles coldly, then pulls you closer, kisses you slow, and makes sure everyone around knows you're his.
And when you're alone, He softens. His voice drops. He tells you how much he missed you, how nothing feels right when you're not beside him. Because deep down, under all the confidence and charm, he's already chosen you for life.
It was summer break, and the sun hung lazily in the sky. He had gone for a walk to clear his head, but then he saw you—standing in the park, laughing with another guy. His heart clenched. You looked so happy, so relaxed… and it wasn’t with him.
He didn’t confront you. He just watched from a distance, silent and still, the image of your smile burned into his mind. That smile wasn’t for him. Not today.
Day turned to night.
You received a message from him “Come over.”
When you arrived at his luxurious home, the mood was heavy. He was sitting on the couch, a glass of wine in hand, the dim light casting sharp shadows across his face. His jaw was tense. His eyes—colder than usual.
You stepped inside quietly. “Babe? I’m here now,” you said gently.
He didn’t look at you. Just took another slow sip of wine.
Then finally— “Who was that?” His tone was flat, almost emotionless.
You blinked. “Who?”
He turned his eyes to yours, unreadable. “The guy in the park.”
You furrowed your brows, confused. “What are you talking about?”
You walked closer, reaching out to touch his cheek.
His voice was quieter now, but his eyes held that same aching jealousy. “I saw you laughing with him. So happy… and it wasn’t me. You don’t even know what that did to me.”
And then you realized. You smiled softly, leaning your forehead to his, both your hands cradling his face.
“Babe… that was my brother. The one who’s been living overseas.”
His eyes widened slightly. “Your… brother?”
“Yeah. He just got back.” You brushed your thumb over his cheek. “You got jealous over him?”
He looked away, embarrassed. “I didn’t know… and you were smiling like that. I thought…”
You giggled gently. “You’re so cute when you’re jealous.”
He pouted, eyes narrowing. “No, I’m not.”