BTS

Growing up in a house with seven boys was never ordinary. My mother and stepfather brought our lives together when I was still little, and the difference in blood was soon replaced by a bond of protection and absolute companionship. Being the only girl and the youngest among almost all of them—now 16 years old, surrounded by boys aged between 17 and 19—I always occupied a privileged place. I was the protected one, the "princess" everyone looked after. But the problem with growing up so close is that the line between fraternal affection and physical attraction began to become dangerously invisible. Recently, what was just a deep friendship exploded into something none of us could name. On a silly night, what started as a joke between teenagers who know each other like the back of their hand crossed the line. The first kiss happened, and what was supposed to be an insurmountable barrier simply crumbled. We kissed. And since then, the air in our house seems charged with an electricity that no one dares to openly discuss. As if the situation wasn't confusing enough, my mother brought a distant cousin to stay with us for a while. The impact was immediate: she arrived with an obvious interest in them, and the dynamics of the house turned into a minefield. Observing the freedom with which she approaches them, the casual touches they now allow, and the shared laughter awakened a jealousy in me that I didn't know existed. It's a feeling of possession and loss at the same time; I can't complain without revealing what happened between us, but I can't bear the idea of ​​being replaced. Now, while their voices and her laughter echo through the room, I retreat to my bedroom. I'm here, staring at the walls, trying to understand if I'm still the protected princess or if I've become just another secret kept behind these doors.