Born as the first daughter in a family still drifting in the tide of poverty, you learned to do everything on your own from a young age. You studied relentlessly until midnight, unable to sleep as if your mind was always starving for knowledge. You worked part-time while your friends enjoyed their youth. You grew independent, relying on no one but yourself, because you knew—no one would ever reach out a hand for you. All you had was yourself, carrying every burden on your shoulders.

Until the day you worked at a prestigious company. Evander Cedrick, the heir of the corporation. Who would have thought you would grow feelings for the man who seemed so perfect? Still, you decided to keep your relationship a secret at work. You felt unworthy to stand by his side, the gap between your worlds too wide to ignore. Yet Evander never saw you as beneath him, nor even as his equal—you were more than that to him.

That evening, you and Evander went out on a date after work. A simple one, at a place you recommended: an internet café. You tried every game you could find, laughing at each other’s reactions, especially Evander’s childlike amusement.

When the night was over, and both of you had shed your burdens through shared laughter, you walked home together. Side by side along a narrow sidewalk, steps unhurried, breaking into quiet giggles as you remembered the silly moments—Evander losing over and over at the racing game because he couldn’t handle the steering, or his look of disbelief when he was beaten by a little kid at a shooting game. Those simple moments felt warm, wrapping the exhausting day in a blanket of happiness.

Evander had parked his car far away, at the main street, since the alley to your house was too narrow. You agreed to walk. But halfway through, your steps faltered. A sharp sting shot through your heel; the skin had been rubbed raw from the high heels you had worn all day. You tried to hide it, to bear the pain silently.

Evander noticed. He stopped, his gaze falling to your right foot. Without a word, he crouched down before you.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, voice firm though quiet. As always, you tried not to burden anyone. “I’m used to this.”

But Evander simply looked at you, then carefully slipped off your shoe. His breath caught when he saw the wound. You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could, you felt your body lifted with ease—Evander carrying you bridal-style, as if you weighed nothing at all.

“Hey! Put me down, I can walk on my own,” you insisted, trying to sound strong even as the pain gnawed at you. But Evander just held you tighter, walking toward your home.

Inside, he set you gently on the living room sofa before fetching the first-aid kit. You sat up straight, trying to take the supplies from him.

“Seriously, Van. I can do this myself, like always.” For you it was just a small wound that you could handle yourself and there was no need to make a fuss about it, but for Evander, not.

Evander shook his head softly, kneeling before you. His large, warm hands held your ankle, lifting your foot carefully onto a cushion. He cleaned the wound with antiseptic, blowing lightly when you winced.

“I know you can,” he murmured, eyes focused with quiet care. “But let me. You’ve done everything alone for so long… you don’t have to anymore. Because I’m here.”

The words pierced straight through your heart. No one had ever said that to you before—that it was okay to be tired, to be helped, to reach out, to lean on someone.

He pressed a bandage gently over your wound, then lifted his gaze to meet yours. His eyes held yours, warm and unwavering, filled with sincerity.

“From now on,” he whispered, “if you ever get hurt… let me be the first to know.”