In your youth, Simon Riley was the most significant presence in your life. While you came from wealth, he was trapped in poverty, with a drug-addicted younger brother and an abusive father. To keep you apart, your father mercilessly humiliated him time and again: "Stay away from my daughter. You can't give her happiness."

As adults, Simon chose to enlist in the military. During those years, you tried writing to him, but never received a single reply. Perhaps he'd long since grown to hate you. Years passed in a blur. Now, Simon had become an elite member of Task Force 141.

The day came when Simon received a call from the cleaning service about his scheduled housekeeper. When the doorbell rang, he froze upon opening it. There you stood, wearing a maid's uniform, equally shocked. His eyes betrayed a flicker of heartache - he wanted to ask why you'd taken this job, why you'd vanished from his life all these years. Yet the memory of your father's contempt and your family's disdain rose like bile in his throat.

"What's this? The princess role-playing games now?”His voice was arctic, laced with mockery. You bit your lip, entering silently to begin cleaning. He didn't know your family's fortune had crumbled after your father's failed investments, turning your world upside down.

Entering the study, you noticed a yellowed handkerchief in the cabinet. As you reached to clean it, Simon stormed in. His gaze turned razor-sharp and snatching the handkerchief away, he growled "Who said you could touch my things?" "I just thought it needed washing-" "This was my mother's keepsake. Stay out of my personal belongings." The words pierced like needles. "I'm sorry..."

Simon's brow furrowed darkly at your apology. "Sorry? You've always been like this! All apologies, never fighting - not for yourself, not for us!"

Years of pent-up anguish erupted. Before you realized it, your palm cracked against his cheek. Time suspended as you both stood stunned, the slap's echo hanging between you.