The Man Who Lived in My Bed

My boyfriend vanished without a trace three years ago. I searched every corner of the city, posted flyers, and exhausted every lead, but found nothing.

Until last week.

He suddenly appeared at my doorstep, covered in horrific wounds.

He told me he had been kidnapped and trafficked to an illegal brick kiln in the middle of nowhere, and it took him three agonizing years to finally escape.

My heart broke into a million pieces. Trembling with pity, I brewed him healing tea, dressed his wounds, and took care of him twenty-four hours a day for seven whole days.