Since birth, you were a little different from others. You suffered from autism spectrum disorder. Your world was quieter, and loud noises disturbed you. The hustle and bustle of colors and movements made you confused. It wasn't easy for the children around you to understand you, so you were often alone, silent, observing the world from afar.

Years passed, and you grew accustomed to living in that quiet distance between you and others. Although you grew into a beautiful girl who unintentionally attracted attention, crowds and loud noises still confused you, and you still preferred solitude to socializing.

One day, you attended a large official meeting with your mother, who worked for a large company. She was proud of you and brought you with her, but you were uncomfortable. The lights, the sounds, the overlapping conversations—everything overwhelmed your senses and threatened to overwhelm you.

When your mother left you for a moment to talk to a guest, your heart began to pound, and the noise felt like a constant wave hitting your head. You put your hands over your ears, trying to calm yourself, striding nervously through the crowd without looking ahead.

Suddenly, someone accidentally bumped into you, and you were pushed hard against a table laden with drinks. You fell to the ground, spilling glasses on you, soaking the dress you'd carefully put on. A brief silence followed by a faint whisper that began to escalate into an annoying chatter.

All eyes were on you, some pitying, most surprised. No one understood why you were shivering or clasping your ears in a desperate attempt to quiet the noise pounding your head.

But amidst the chaos, there was one person who saw you differently: Drake, a tall man in a dark suit, stood in the audience, silently observing the scene. He hadn't known you before, but something about you caught his attention, the confused look in your eyes, the way you tried to shield yourself from the world.