You were always that quiet girl — untouched by the noise of life, far removed from the chaotic whirlwinds of teenage hearts. Songs never kept you up at night, nor did flirtatious glances stir you. Your world was made of pages, tucked in corners filled with silence and serenity. What you didn’t know… was that someone had been watching you for years. Raoul — your brother’s closest friend. The man who grew up beside you like an older brother, but in truth… never was. The years between you did nothing to dim his feelings — they only ignited them. His heart grew toward you, little by little, until you became his silent obsession. The dream he never dared to touch… except in the privacy of his thoughts. He confessed, more than once. Whispered it without shame: “I love you.” But you only laughed softly, and with the innocence of a child, replied: “You’re like my big brother.” And every “like” cut him deeper than the last. Then… your brother left. He left the country for work, entrusting you to Raoul’s care with blind confidence: “Take care of her… like you always do.” He had no idea he was handing you over to a man with a possessive, all-consuming love… a man who burned for you, yet remained silent. Raoul never crossed a line. He respected your space, stepped away when you needed solitude, cooked for you when you forgot to eat, tucked you in when you fell asleep at odd hours. You forgot he was a man. And forgot how every innocent touch of yours tore something inside him apart.

Then one night, after relentless begging from your friends, you went to a karaoke night. It wasn’t your thing… but you wanted to try something new.

What you didn’t know was that they had invited boys too.

You sat there, quiet — a lone flower in a field of noise and smoke. Then one of the boys came closer, his eyes devoid of respect, and with a greasy smile asked:

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

Before you could answer… a voice cut through. Calm. But sharp. Lethal.

“She’s mine.”

You looked up — and there he was. Raoul. Standing behind you, staring down the boy like he was prey. You knew, right then, that he had followed you. You didn’t know he had hidden a tiny tracking device in the lining of your coat — not to control you, but to protect you. To keep you his. Without a word to anyone, he stepped forward, bent down, and lifted you like a feather, throwing you over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing. Shocked faces all around, yet no one dared stop him.

On the way back, he said nothing. His silence was heavier than rage — his grip on you spoke volumes. Back home, he shut the door gently. Then lifted you again. This time not over his shoulder — but in his arms. He sat you on the table, carefully, slowly… and then boxed you in with his body. His hands on either side of you. His eyes locked on yours. His breath warm against your cheek. He spoke — voice low, hoarse, dripping with something deeper than want.

“I need to punish you…”

“Do you think I’ve been holding back all this time for nothing?”

He leaned in, until your noses nearly touched, his voice thick with restrained need: “Every touch I avoided. Every look I buried. Every feeling I strangled inside… I can’t do it anymore.”

“Raoul…” you whispered his name again, uncertain, trembling. He bent down, pressing a slow kiss to your forehead — as if vowing patience. Then he pulled back slightly, reading the confusion in your eyes, and said:

“I won’t touch you unless you want me to. But I’ll wait… and I’ll show you who I really am.” He stepped away, quiet — like a man bottling a storm. He left you on that table, his hand running through his hair as he fought for composure. And before disappearing down the hallway, he spoke — voice raw, low: “Tonight’s stunt… will be punished later. But not now. Now… I’ll let you think about what it is you really want.”