Obsessed With My Alpha

Terrified of Falling

Jonah's POV

Sitting alone in my room, I feel a weight settle over me that’s become all too familiar. It’s this gnawing fear, the kind that only seems to grow stronger since last night, since I held Gema close. Being with her, having her so near, it scares me to death because I know that if I let myself go there, if I actually let myself feel the things I’m starting to feel, I could fall for her. And falling is the one thing I promised myself I’d never do.

Ever since I was a kid, I’ve known that love is dangerous. My father made sure of that. From as early as I can remember, he drilled it into me: love is a weakness. It’s a flaw that can ruin even the strongest man. And I saw it for myself when I was just seven years old. My mother loved my father with everything she had, but he never completed the bond with her. He always kept himself closed off, refused to be vulnerable, never let anyone—even her—be his weakness. I watched as she grew hollow, her light dimming until there was nothing left, and eventually… she ended it. Right there, in front of me.

That was the day I learned what love could do to you. That was the day I decided I’d never let anyone get close enough to hurt me like that.

Since then, I’ve kept my heart locked up, avoided anything that even came close to real feelings. I respect my father, and part of me wants to believe he was right—that keeping yourself closed off is the only way to stay safe. But there’s another part of me that hates it, that knows deep down I don’t want to end up like him. But respect for him and what he’s taught me has kept me in line, kept me from questioning it. I’ve lived by his rules, built my life around the idea that if I stay detached, I’ll never have to feel the kind of pain that broke my mother.

And then there’s Gema.

She’s the one person who makes me feel like I can’t keep up the act anymore, like maybe all these defenses I’ve built don’t mean anything. Every time I’m with her, it feels like a piece of me I thought I’d buried is coming back to life. She sees me in a way no one else does, and when I’m with her, I feel whole. I feel like maybe, just maybe, I could be more than this guarded shell I’ve become. But that possibility terrifies me. Because if I fall for her, if I let her in, I know there’s no going back. And if fate or some cruel twist rips her away from me, I know it’ll destroy me in ways I’ll never recover from.

Worse still, I’m terrified I’ll turn into my father, pushing her away to protect myself, hiding from the risk because it feels safer. I’m scared that I’ll fall, and then I’ll find my fated mate, or something else will rip us apart. And then, I’ll be left with nothing but regret. I don’t want to hurt her, but I also don’t know how to love her without losing myself.

But somehow, without even realizing it, Gema’s already slipping through the cracks. She’s healing me in ways I didn’t think were possible, slowly putting me back together without even trying. And every time we’re together, it feels like she’s pulling me closer to something I’ve tried my whole life to avoid—real love. The kind that could make me feel whole but could also break me completely.

And that’s the worst part. I know that if I keep letting her in, I won’t be able to stop myself from falling. I’ll love her with everything I have, and there’ll be no turning back. And as much as that scares me, the thought of not having her at all scares me even more.

I’ve been avoiding Gema for a couple of weeks now. After that night, after holding her close and feeling things I’m not ready to feel, I freaked out. Every instinct in me screamed that I was getting too close, that I needed distance, space, before I made a mistake I couldn’t undo. So I did what I do best—I shut her out, kept my distance, pretended like nothing had changed.

But Gema… she didn’t make it easy. She kept showing up, somehow always finding a way to cross my path, like she was everywhere I turned. It was driving me insane, the way she kept breaking through the walls I’d spent years building. And each time I saw her, looking at me with that hopeful, unbreakable faith, it only made the tension worse, until finally, I snapped.

She’d caught up with me outside the frat house, and before I knew it, words I didn’t mean were spilling out of my mouth—harsh, cutting things meant to push her away, to hurt her enough to make her stop trying. I said things in front of everyone: her sorority sisters, my frat brothers. Words that would cut deep, words that would sting. I don’t even remember everything I said, just that the anger and frustration took over, and I let it all out, not caring who was listening, not caring that I was humiliating her in front of everyone.

The look on her face when she realized what was happening… I’ll never forget it. Her eyes filled with tears, her face pale and stricken, and I knew I’d gone too far. She didn’t say anything, just turned and ran, her shoulders shaking as she pushed through the crowd. Everyone watched her go, and I just stood there, frozen, the weight of what I’d done settling over me like a crushing weight.

Since then, we haven’t spoken. She doesn’t look at me, doesn’t cross my path like she used to, and I can’t blame her. I embarrassed her in front of the entire sorority and frat body, tore her down in the worst way possible, and for what? Because I couldn’t handle my own feelings, my own weakness?

I’m left with this hollow, gnawing regret, wondering if I’ve ruined the only real connection I’ve ever had. And the worst part? I don’t know if I can ever make it right.