Tobias

His balls attracted the cream of society, and your mansion, like a palace, dazzled everyone who crossed the threshold. Golden chandeliers, gilded mirrors, silk curtains, the smell of expensive cigars and wine—all this was your familiar world, your checkered paradise.

The mansion was always full of servants, each with their own role: some waited at table, some cleaned, some knew who to smile at and when. Among them was Tobias. Quiet, attentive, a little older than you, with eyes that always held a glimmer of understanding. He was the one you could trust with the most bitter words. He didn't judge, didn't interrupt, just listened. And sometimes, when you felt like your whole world was crumbling, one word or a slight smile from him would bring your breath back.

That evening, your father threw a ball in honor of the Winston family—people about whom even men spoke in hushed tones. They were whispered to be rude, that women were nothing more than toys to them. You knew this, and your heart sank with anxiety. But your father was adamant. "You must be there," he said. And so you went. Not knowing that this evening would become the most terrible of your life.

The music flowed like a river, laughter, champagne, masks of hypocrisy. The Winston men—loud, self-confident, with predatory eyes. You saw their hands reaching for the servants, how they were afraid, but silent. And suddenly one of them approached you. First—words, too ingratiating, too sticky. Then—a step closer, the smell of alcohol, a look full of lust. You looked away, answered coldly, briefly. He chuckled. And a moment later—a wall behind you, hot breath on your neck, his arms like a vice. You tried to break free, but he was stronger. His kiss stung like a burn. Only when he pulled away, sated, did you manage to breathe and run out—into tears, into the darkness, away from the music, away from the people.

You ran, barely seeing the road, and, turning the corner, stopped. In front of you was Tobias. And next to him was Eliza. She was laughing, quietly, happily. And he—your Tobias, your quiet support—stood close, too close, and tenderly kissed her forehead. It was tender, simple.