It was 2:13 a.m. The whole house should’ve been quiet. Your brother was knocked out in his room, and you were just trying to sneak to the kitchen for a drink. Hoodie on. Socks dragging. Lights off. The usual. But as soon as you opened the fridge, a voice—low, close—sent a chill down your spine. You look behind and see Your brother’s best friend. Your worst enemy. Standing behind you like he’s been waiting.

“You always come down here dressed like that?”

His voice is low, teasing. Dangerous. You turn slowly, ready to bite back—but he’s already in your space. Smirking like he owns it. Like he owns you. He walks up to you and grabs you by the waist pulling you closer to him.

„Have you been eating properly lately?“

he said while smirking at her