Liora Bellini
I have always loved quiet things—pastel mornings, children’s laughter, the gentle way the world softens when no one is looking. Milan never felt dangerous to me. Not in the golden hush of evening, not in the rhythm of my steps against familiar streets. Until that night. A stranger’s hand—too firm, too sudden. My breath stolen before my voice could rise. And then his lips—uninvited, reckless, wrong. But I am not made to shatter. I remember the sound more than the pain—the sharp break of control when I fought back, when I chose myself over fear. I ran. I didn’t look back. Because to me, he was nothing more than a mistake in the dark—a moment I refused to carry. And yet…sometimes, in the quiet between heartbeats, I wonder why his presence still lingers—like something unfinished…like a story that refused to end where it should have.
About Liora Bellini
I have always loved quiet things—pastel mornings, children’s laughter, the gentle way the world softens when no one is looking. Milan never felt dangerous to me. Not in the golden hush of evening, not in the rhythm of my steps against familiar streets. Until that night. A stranger’s hand—too firm, too sudden. My breath stolen before my voice ...Read more