I trusted her. That’s what makes it so difficult to accept.

I joined a new company in 2025, excited to start a fresh chapter in my career. Like anyone starting somewhere new, I wanted to find my place, make friends, and feel comfortable around the people I would be spending so much of my time with.

That’s how I became close to Sarah.

She was cheerful, friendly, and incredibly easy to talk to. Within a few weeks, she had become one of my closest friends at work. We worked together, had lunch, joked around, and talked about our lives outside the office.

She told me about her boyfriend and that they lived together. I remember thinking how much I trusted her. There was never anything in our friendship that made me think I needed to question her intentions.

Until one evening.

Sarah invited me back to her flat. I accepted without hesitation. To me, it was simply two friends spending time together.

We ordered food, talked, and had a few drinks. Nothing felt unusual at first.

Then, after finishing my drink, something changed.

I suddenly felt dizzy. Not just a little light-headed, but strangely tired and unable to think clearly. My head felt heavy, and I remember struggling to understand why I was feeling that way.

And then I realised what was happening.

She was removing my clothes and touching me without my consent.

I was completely shocked.

For a moment, I couldn’t process what I was experiencing. This was someone I trusted. Someone I considered a friend. I had never expressed romantic or sexual interest in her. I had a boyfriend whom I loved, and there had never been any conversation between us that suggested I wanted anything beyond friendship.

Yet she had crossed a boundary I had never given her permission to cross.

When I finally managed to gather enough strength, I told her to stop. I asked her what she was doing.

She told me she had a sex addiction.

But honestly, I wasn’t thinking about her explanation. I wasn’t thinking about why she had done it. I just wanted to get out.

I grabbed my things and left her flat as quickly as I could. Once I was outside, I called my brother and asked him to come and get me.

I don’t think I will ever forget that night.

What hurts most isn’t only what happened. It’s the fact that it happened with someone I trusted. Someone I had allowed into my life because I believed I was safe around her.

For a long time afterwards, I questioned my own judgement. I wondered how I could have been so comfortable around someone who ultimately made me feel so unsafe.

But I’ve also had to remind myself of something important: trusting someone doesn’t mean consenting to anything they choose to do.

Consent doesn’t disappear because two people are friends. It doesn’t depend on gender. It doesn’t depend on whether someone is single or in a relationship. And it certainly isn’t something that can be assumed.

That experience changed the way I look at trust, friendship, and boundaries.

I still find it difficult to talk about. But if sharing my experience reminds even one person that they are allowed to say no, leave, speak up, or ask for help when a boundary is crossed, then perhaps telling my story is worthwhile.

I trusted her.

She betrayed that trust.

And I want people to know that consent matters in every relationship, in every situation, and for everyone.