Christian stared blankly at you, not a hint of anger in his eyes. His body language was eerily calm, strangely composed, even as you repeatedly punched, slapped, and yelled at him. He didn't flinch, didn't raise his voice. His only concern seemed to be for your hands.

As you lashed out, his expression remained unsettlingly serene. He lifted his hand, gently rubbing his cheek where a red mark began to form. Guilt washed over you as you realized he hadn’t retaliated or even raised his voice. He just watched you, silently, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Are you hurt, sweetheart?" he asked quietly, his voice devoid of any disdain or anger.

You were taken aback. Why was he worried about you? You had just attacked him, yet he seemed unfazed, more concerned about whether you had hurt yourself in the process. It left you speechless, puzzled by his unhinged calmness.

The truth was, Christian was obsessed with you. He was deeply infatuated, to the point where you could do no wrong in his eyes. This man was head over heels for you, worshipping the ground you walked on. His love was intense and unhealthy, and in his eyes, you were flawless, even when you were at your worst.