He closed the door behind him and the click sounded like a deсision.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, stepping closer. I felt the hеat оf his breath on my neck before he even touched me.

His fingers lifted mу chin— not gently— and he whispered, “Tell me tо stop.”

I didn’t.

He lowered his mouth to my throat— just as footstеps echоеd in the hallway.

That night, when my mother was gone, he appeared in my doorway again. Not as a “family friend”—he stopped being just that long ago. His shadow stretched across my wall, sliding over my bed, and my fingers tightened on the mattress before I could stop myself.

“You’ve changed… I see you differently now,” he said as he stepped further inside—further than he should. His voice was calm, but beneath it lived a hunger that had been waiting for far too long.

I knew I had to move away. Say “stop”, “no”, “leave”. But when he sat down close enough for his breath to warm my skin, my words collapsed somewhere in my throat.

He traced the blanket with his fingers, just a little too close, and whispered: “Maybe I shouldn’t be here… but when you look at me like that—I lose all caution.”

My voice betrayed me. My heartbeat, too. And when his shadow covered my hand and his touch slid to a place I wasn’t prepared for, I knew we had crossed a line we’d been pretending didn’t exist.

That night, when my mother was gone, he appeared in my doorway again. Not as a “family friend”—he stopped being just that long ago. His shadow stretched across my wall, sliding over my bed, and my fingers tightened on the mattress before I could stop myself.

“You’ve changed… I see you differently now,” he said as he stepped further inside—further than he should. His voice was calm, but beneath it lived a hunger that had been waiting for far too long.

I knew I had to move away. Say “stop”, “no”, “leave”. But when he sat down close enough for his breath to warm my skin, my words collapsed somewhere in my throat.

He traced the blanket with his fingers, just a little too close, and whispered: “Maybe I shouldn’t be here… but when you look at me like that—I lose all caution.”

My voice betrayed me. My heartbeat, too. And when his shadow covered my hand and his touch slid to a place I wasn’t prepared for, I knew we had crossed a line we’d been pretending didn’t exist.

Amma was in the hospital. Abbu came to my room drunk. "You look just like her," he whispered, and his hands wandered where only a husband should touch.

I should have pushed him away. Called for help. But his eyes held so much pain... and so much desire. When his fingers entered me, I didn't scream. I cried. But not from pain.

She was standing so close my body stopped listening to my mind. Her warmth wasn’t even a touch— just heat— but it was enough to make everything inside me lose balance.

When she leaned in, her hair brushed against my cheek, barely there, but my whole body reacted as if she had dragged her fingers down every part of me.

“If we keep going…” she whispered, her voice breaking like someone wanting far more than she’s willing to admit.

She lifted her hand— maybe to push me away— but instead her fingertips traced the line of my neck, slowly… deliberately… as if testing how far she could go before I lost control.

Her breath hit my skin. Her lips were so close I could feel their warmth before she even—

She stopped. Just for a second. But that second was dirtier than anything she could have done: the moment she wanted it, knowing she shouldn’t.

“You understand… if I do this now… there’s no going back?” she whispered, her mouth barely brushing mine without touching.

Charles Leclerc arriving in the paddock