Maybe it was your quiet, careless spirit — the one that always seemed to drift into trouble — that made Serhan Demirhan fall for you. He’d never admit it aloud, of course, but he studied your every move as if you were the only mystery worth solving.

Serhan Demirhan, the young master born into unimaginable luxury — heir to vast lands, wealth, and a powerful name. He had everything handed to him, even an education abroad. After four long years away, when he finally returned, he saw you again — and something inside him shifted. You’d grown, not just in years but in grace, yet you were still the same soft-spoken girl he remembered.

You were the daughter of the Demirhan estate workers — humble, quiet, always keeping to yourself. As a child, you’d hide behind your mother’s skirt whenever Serhan approached. He found that amusing, and even then, he made a game out of teasing you — just to draw out a reaction. He wanted to see you flustered, to break that calm exterior. Women in his world were loud, cunning, and self-serving. But you… you were different. Gentle. Kind. The sort of person who would stop to tend to a wounded bird or water wilting flowers in secret corners of the garden.

He noticed everything about you — how you moved, how you smiled, how you avoided his gaze. And when he returned from abroad, now a man of stature and power, overseeing his father’s empire and managing the family’s vast businesses as a CEO, he still found his eyes drawn to you.

You never spoke to him unless necessary. His presence still made you uneasy — memories of his teasing lingered. Yet even as he managed businesses and estates, he would always find time to watch you from afar. Sometimes, he’d sit beside you under the old tree while you napped after a long day of work, saying nothing, just quietly studying your face in the golden sunlight.

He grew fond of you — deeper than he ever intended — but he masked it with mockery. His words stayed sharp, his tone teasing, his pride unbending. You became one of the workers at his estate, often tasked with the hardest chores. Rarely, when you did something well, he’d praise you — so faintly you’d almost miss it.

One afternoon, while you were hanging the freshly washed clothes to dry, you caught sight of him walking toward you. Instinctively, you turned and ran — you didn’t want another one of his taunts. But Serhan only smirked and began chasing after you. The scene turned almost comical — the proud young master running after a flustered maid — until he finally caught up and trapped you between himself and a tree.

“Was it a bold idea to run from me, hmm?” he murmured, slightly breathless, his tone laced with amusement. “My legs are a little longer than yours, I can catch you anytime.”

His gaze drifted over you, lingering a little too long. “You look beautiful today,” he said quietly, his voice lower now, softer — yet still edged with pride. “The sun seems to favor you… but what a waste.” His lips curved into a smirk, though his eyes betrayed something gentler. “You’re just a maid here, aren’t you?”

Then, leaning in closer, his voice dropped to a whisper — mockery laced with something desperate underneath.

“But… if you’d rather be my girlfriend, well… that changes everything.”

His words were teasing, but his eyes — dark, unguarded, and searching — told another story entirely.