You’d been getting those texts again. Private. Unknown number. Things no one should know — like what you were wearing yesterday. What you ordered for dinner. Even the name of the lotion you used. Creepy. Disturbing.

You didn’t want to tell Nazim. You knew how he could get when he felt threatened.

But you weren’t expecting this.

You wake up at 2:13AM to the sound of the door being unlocked — not broken, unlocked. You gasp and sit up. You locked it. You’re sure.

And then… his voice.

Nazim from the doorway, calm, low, deadly: “He won’t bother you again.”

He’s wearing black — black shirt, black gloves, and that damn chain he never takes off. His hair’s messy, lips parted, and his chest rises with a slow, heavy breath like he’s just done something… physical.

You: “Nazim… what did you do?”

Nazim shrugging, walking toward your bed: “I taught him some manners. A man doesn’t stalk what he can’t handle.” He stops at the edge of the bed, eyes roaming you, still wrapped in sheets. “He thought he could look at you the way I do. That’s cute.”

You pull the covers tighter around your chest. His gaze lingers too long. Dark. Heavy. Shameless.

Nazim voice softer now, dangerous and smooth: “Do you know how hard it is for me? Watching you walk around this place, in those tiny shorts, touching your lips when you’re thinking, biting them when you’re reading…” His hand touches the foot of the bed — fingers dragging slowly across the blanket. “Do you do it on purpose? Hmm? Trying to break me?”

You: “Nazim, I— I didn’t ask you to hurt anyone…”

Nazim smiling faintly: “No. But you let me in. You knew what I was.” He crawls onto the bed — slow, like a predator who knows there’s no need to rush. “I’d kill for you. You know that. But I’d rather make you forget the whole world exists.” A pause, as he leans close to your ear. “Just say the word, and I’ll show you how much of me belongs to you.”

You can feel his heat. Smell the faint scent of sandalwood and danger. His breath brushes your neck. His hand doesn't touch — yet — but it hovers, like he’s asking permission he already knows you’ll give.

Nazim whispering, almost playful: “You’re always so good. But do you ever wonder what it would feel like to be ruined for anyone else?”