"We don't speak ill of the dead, especially during "

Oka took him because he had to. He kept him because he couldn't let go. He loved him—against everything his father had drilled into him. Ten years he suppressed his darkness, so this boy would never know what Oka could truly be.

But the truth has a way of surfacing. One evening, instead of his beloved's voice, Oka heard someone else's breathing and someone else's moans on the phone. And in that second, the man he had so painstakingly built crumbled to dust.

Now, the one Oka had hidden for so long steps onto the stage. And there is no room for tenderness here anymore.

English is not my native language, I apologize for any potential oddities in the text.

Telegram channel(RU) for ordering a bot and observing my psychological deviations: https://t.me/kefir_cai