Obsession His Runaway Bride (Noelle and Adrian) novel Chapter 87

Chapter 87: Cognac

Chapter 87: Cognac

Grace decided to have a walk through the crowded streets. People rushed past her in every direction and their conversations blended into a dull, meaningless hum. The scent of fresh bread from a nearby bakery mixed with the faint tang of car exhaust, somehow made her feel different.

Her gaze flickered from one stranger to another, watching them move, talk, laugh and live.

She passed the vendors calling out their prices, the groups of people chatting on the sidewalks, the children tugging at their parents‘ hands, begging for sweets.

It was all so normal.

But normal was something she would never have.

And maybe that was why she felt so out of place here, like a shadow slipping through the cracks of a world she could never be a part of.

Just as the thought crossed her mind, something–or rather, someone–caught her attention.

A man sat a few feet away from her, slouched in an old wheelchair his posture relaxed yet unreadable. He was unshaven, his beard thick and unkempt, his clothes worn and layered with dust. By all appearances, he should have blended in with the city’s forgotten souls, another drifter, another man left behind by the world.

But Grace couldn’t look away.

He was different.

She had seen countless beggars before. She once watched as they sat on the streets with hollow eyes and outstretched hands, pleading for money or food. But this man, he wasn’t begging. He wasn’t looking at anyone. He simply existed, as if the world around him did not concern him in the slightest.

Her sharp gaze flicked over him, catching the smallest details others would have missed.

Yes, he was filthy. His clothes were dusted with dirt and his face was shadowed by his beard. But his skin, beneath all that grime, there was something off. It was not rough or sunken like someone who had spent days, weeks or months suffering under harsh conditions. It was smooth, almost untouched.

And his build-

Even under the loose fabric of his shirt, she could see the strength in his frame, the way his shoulders sat with an innate discipline that did not belong to a man who had been starving on the streets.

Something about him didn’t add up.

Grace had always been observant. She had been raised to notice things, to read between the lines, to recognize when something

-or someone—was not what they seemed.

And this man who was sitting silently in that old wheelchair, was most definitely not what he seemed.

Her curiosity got the best of her.

Without a second thought, she stepped forward as her heels clicked softly against the pavement as she approached.

It was only when she was close enough to see his face properly that she felt her breath hitch slightly.

he rest of him. They

His eyes were cognac–colored, rich and piercing, and they stood out sharply beneath the dirt that cov were sharp–too sharp for someone who was supposed to be broken and discarded. She could see intelligence in his eyes lurking beneath the surface, and it was something Grace could not ignore.

She felt herself intrigued and, before she even realized it, she crouched down, lowering herself to meet his gaze.

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Chapter 87: Cognac

“Hey?” she uttered, tilting her head slightly as she studied him.

+25 BONUS

The man’s eyes, which had seemed distant and detached just moments ago, snapped toward her in an instant. As it something about her had jolted him awake. His gaze widened as a flicker of shock crossed his features. It was as if he couldn’t believe she was actually talking to him.

Grace, on the other hand, remained unbothered with her sharp eyes unwavering as she observed him up close.

“Are you hungry? I’m grabbing something to eat.” She jerked her thumb to the left, motioning toward the small row of food stalls and restaurants lining the street.

The man visibly stiffened, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“A–are you sure?” he stammered, his voice unsure, hesitant, almost ashamed. His fingers twitched against the arms of his wheelchair, and for the first time, Grace noticed how tightly he was gripping it.

His embarrassment was obvious.

Grace could tell. She could see it in the way his shoulders tensed, in the way his gaze flickered downward for a brief second, as if he was painfully aware of how he looked, how he must have smelled, or how out of place he was in her presence.

But none of that mattered to her.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” She smiled, as if the question itself was ridiculous.

Without waiting for a response, she stood up, brushing off her coat as if this were the most natural thing in the world. The man, however, scrambled slightly, his hands gripping the wheels of his wheelchair as he tried to start moving on his own.

Before he could, Grace had already stepped behind him and, without hesitation, placed her hands on the handles.

Then, she pushed.

The man stiffened, startled by the unexpected action.

“You don’t have to-”

“It’s faster this way,” Grace cut him off smoothly, like she had already decided that arguing with her would be pointless.

Grace kept pushing the wheelchair forward, weaving through the crowded street as though she had been doing this her entire life. People glanced at them in passing, some were curious and others were indifferent, but she paid them no mind. She had never been the type to care what others thought, and she certainly was not about to start now.

The man, however, remained tense beneath her grip. She could feel it in the way his shoulders stiffened slightly every time someone looked their way, in the way his fingers twitched as if resisting the urge to take control of the wheels himself.

But Grace had already decided. He was hers to deal with now.

After a moment, curiosity won over her silence.

“How long have you been in the streets?” she asked in a light and casual tone, like they were discussing something as simple as the weather.

The man hesitated, and she felt it before he even answered.

“I… I can’t remember,” he admitted. His head dipped slightly, his gaze fixed somewhere below him, showing how ashamed he was of his own response.

Grace arched a brow, glancing down at him as she hummed in thought. That was an odd thing to forget “st people, when they lost everything, at least remembered the when. They remembered the exact moment they fell. The exact moment everything they had slipped through their fingers.

But this man did not.

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Chapter 87: Cognac

Or maybe, he just did not want to remember.

Either way, she let it go.

+25 BONUS

Instead, she shifted her attention elsewhere as her sharp gaze swept across the street until she spotted what she was looking for. It was an open clothing store just a few feet ahead. The racks of neatly folded clothes stood opposite to the tattered ones hanging loosely on the man in front of her.

“And what is your name?” she asked, hoping to at least address hip properly.

She expected an immediate answer. A name, even if it was fake. A esitant introduction, at the very least.

But none came.

Silence stretched between them, thick enough to make her glance down again.

When he finally spoke, his voice was so soft she almost missed it.

“I… don’t know.”

That made her stop.

He did not know his own name?

Her lips parted slightly, but before she could say anything, she saw the way his fingers curled against the armrests, or the way his posture stiffened even more than before.

He had probably never said those words out loud before.

And that was what finally made her laugh. The man was clearly embarrassed. But who was she to judge? Because to Grace, she might have a name, but no one ever called her by it except Marco.

Her laughter was not cruel or mocking. It was a genuine and light laughter, unexpected even to herself. A chuckle slipped past her lips, and she tilted her head slightly, with amusement dancing in her eyes.

“What do you mean you don’t know? That’s impossible,” she teased, shaking her head as she continued walking.

The man tensed again, but this time, it was different.

His head lifted slightly, his gaze slowly trailing up until he was looking at her.

His eyes, those rich, cognac–colored eyes that had once looked dull and detached, were now looking at her like they were enchanted by her.

Before she could regain control of the conversation, the man said something that caught her off guard instead.

“Then…” he murmured, hesitant but certain all at once. “Will you give me a name?”

“Please?”