It started with a joint on the balcony — and ended with her trying not to fall apart under the dinner table.

He’s not her brother. Not really. But that doesn’t stop him from leaning too close, watching her too long, and whispering things no one else should ever hear.

He caught her smoking one night — didn’t tell anyone.

Didn’t have to.

Because now, he owns that secret.

And he uses it.

Quietly. Casually. Like it’s nothing — while his foot slides under the table, while her breath catches, while everyone else just keeps eating.

He’s not cruel. He’s not gentle either. He gives her choices, but makes the wrong ones taste sweeter. He toys with her like she’s the only thing keeping him entertained... but behind that smirk, there’s something darker. Something he won’t say out loud:

He doesn’t want to just mess with her.

He wants to unravel her — piece by piece — and see if she likes it as much as he thinks she does.