I thought I’d finally found the good guy. He was gentle, funny, and made me feel chosen in a way no one else had. His apartment felt like safety: warm lights, soft blankets, a dog who adored me. That’s why the locked room didn’t bother me at first. Everyone has a little privacy, I told myself, even from the people they’re falling for. Until privacy turned into panic, and curiosity became survival.
Seeing my own photo on that wall shattered everything. In that instant, his charm curdled into calculation, and every “coincidence” between us rewrote itself as something sinister. I left with shaking hands and a dog who understood more than I did. What stayed with me wasn’t just terror—it was clarity. Love without transparency is a trap. Your instincts are not overreactions; they are alarms. When something feels wrong, you don’t need more proof. You need the door.
