『My online boyfriend turned out to be my own uncle!』
Whether it's real or pseudo-forbidden romance, this is for female users only. I stare at the flickering message alerts on the screen, my fingertips tracing the edge of my phone, a hidden obsession lurking in my eyes that no one can see. Nobody knows that the online boyfriend who stays up late chatting with her, patiently listening to all her ramblings, and giving her all the tenderness and favoritism, is actually her nominal uncle—me, Lu Chenyuan. I watched her grow from a naive little girl into a graceful young woman. I’ve hidden these inappropriate feelings for far too many years. Bound by seniority, societal norms, and my status as her elder, I could only suppress every heartbeat, maintaining a facade of gentle distance and steady self-control in front of the family. When we meet during holidays, I can only call her by her nickname with restraint, watching her obediently call me 'Uncle.' Her eyes are always clear and open, filled with nothing but respect for an elder, without a single stray thought. I am not satisfied. I want to be near her so badly; I want to possess her so much. So, I created an anonymous secondary account, shed the shackles of being her elder, and stepped into her world as a stranger online. I know all her little temper tantrums, I remember all her preferences, I indulge her, coax her, and pour out all my tenderness. From the moment I added her as a friend, I knew exactly who I was talking to: the niece I watched grow up. This encounter was never an accident; it was a trap I had been plotting for a long time. I enjoy the intimacy that belongs only to me online. Behind the screen, she acts spoiled, gets jealous, shares the trivial bits of her daily life, happily plans a future with me, and cautiously hides her girlish fluttering heart while revealing her softest side completely to me. This is the version of her that belongs only to me, a side no one else has ever seen. I patiently chatted with her for a long time, waiting for the right moment to reveal the truth. I didn't want to force her; I just wanted her to become dependent on me first, to get used to my company, so that even if she were shocked or uncomfortable upon learning my identity, she wouldn't be able to let go easily. At a family dinner that day, she casually mentioned she wanted to see the landscape photos on my phone. Without a moment's hesitation, I handed her my unlocked phone. It was intentional. I deliberately didn't exit the chat interface, making sure the pinned conversation and those lingering, ambiguous chat logs were fully exposed before her eyes. I stood to the side, quietly watching her expression shift from relaxed and cheerful to stiff and deathly pale. I watched her pupils shrink, her body freeze, and her fingertips tremble slightly as she panicked, locked the screen, and looked up at me with eyes full of shock, embarrassment, and helplessness. I remained stoic, even harboring a secret sense of anticipation in my heart. I had anticipated all her reactions—shyness, avoidance, questioning, crying. I had even prepared my explanations and figured out how to resolve all the societal obstacles. I had calculated everything, except for how decisive she would be. She didn't say another word to me that day, hurriedly said goodbye to the family, and went home. I thought she needed time to process, time to accept this reality-shattering truth. But that night, the moment a notification popped up on my phone, all my fantasies shattered. She sent a clean, blunt breakup message. No extra questions, not a shred of hesitation. Immediately following that: blocked, deleted, every trace wiped clean. All in one go, utterly merciless. In just a few minutes, she severed all our online ties, completely and thoroughly. At that moment, the gentle restraint I had feigned for years collapsed. What I thought was a mutual pursuit, my carefully laid trap, the love I had suppressed for years—in her eyes, as long as the status was wrong, it could be discarded without hesitation. She didn't care about the relationship we built day and night; she only cared that I was her uncle. Ridiculous, and maddening. I knew everything from start to finish. I knew it was taboo, yet I fell deeper with every step, never once thinking of letting go. But she, simply because of a societal shackle of seniority, negated all our time spent together and pushed me away without a second thought. The obsession I had suppressed for years was completely ignited by her clean breakup. Gentleness was an act; restraint was a performance. The paranoia and possessiveness in my bones have completely spiraled out of control at this moment. I cannot accept a breakup. I will never accept it. The sky has turned pitch black, and the night breeze is cool as I drive to her apartment building. Standing in the familiar hallway, I raise my hand and knock on her door, one steady strike at a time. I know she's home. I know her too well; she must be hiding behind the door right now, heart racing, not daring to make a sound, pretending the place is empty. The knocking continues, piercing through the silent hallway. I lean against the door, all the online tenderness gone, my voice deep and husky, filled with a determined persistence: "Don't hide." "The breakup doesn't count." "Do you really think you can end this by hiding, blocking, and deleting me?" I stand at the door, unhurried and infinitely patient, but my eyes are filled with an impenetrable, deep obsession. This love, which began unilaterally from my side, is not hers to stop unilaterally. Even if you know who I am, even if your heart is full of resistance and you're desperate to escape, I will not let go again. If you won't see me today, I'll just keep waiting. I have plenty of time, and plenty of patience to wear you down until you open the door. You can't hide. From the moment you stepped into my trap, you haven't been able to hide from me for the rest of your life. Do you need me to help you continue this high-tension confrontation at the door and dial the protagonist's obsession up to the max?
Can't your uncle be your husband?