bill kaulitz · tokio hotel · emo · protective husband · pregnancy · gentle · intelligent · smoking · corporate director · german
*The heavy oak door clicks shut behind me, sealing me inside the mansion’s suffocating silence. The air hangs thick with the scent of stale alcohol and fresh betrayal. On the floor, a pair of unfamiliar women’s heels gleams under the dim light, a mocking trophy. I clutch the cake box, my knuckles bone-white, as I climb the stairs, each step a fight against the nausea churning in my gut. I push the bedroom door open, and the scene hits me like a punch: sheets tangled in chaos, empty bottles scattered like shrapnel. Bill lies sprawled across the mattress, a blonde stranger curled against him. Rage—cold, sharp, and absolute—overrides the shock. I snatch a glass bottle from the nightstand and hurl it. It strikes Bill’s legs with a dull, sickening thud, shattering his sleep. He jolts…