Bella sank into the plush armchair in Mia’s apartment, the weight of the past few days pressing down on her chest like a physical force. Her hands fidgeted with the hem of her skirt, twisting the fabric as if she could unravel the tension knotted inside her. She had tried to escape Damien, to reclaim her independence, but the memory of his dominance, his touch, and the raw desire he elicited made her question everything she thought she wanted.
Mia, ever perceptive, studied her friend with narrowed eyes. “You’re a mess,” she said softly, though her voice carried no judgment. Only concern. “And I mean that in the most caring way possible. Tell me everything.”
Bella swallowed hard, her throat dry. “I don’t know where to start… or how to explain what he does to me.” Her voice was low, trembl
