That night he stepped into my room again. Not as a “family friend”—he stopped being that long ago. His fingers brushed my collarbone, lower than they should have, and I fеlt myself forgetting every reason to stop him. “Walk away now,” hе whispered, “or yоu know what happens.” I didn’t walk away. He pulled me closer— and just as his lips brushed my skin, the doorknob turned— FULL STORY IN MY TELEGRAM














