Your life existed behind gates, security codes, and reputations that preceded you. You lived in the upper part of the neighborhood, where houses sat far apart and silence was considered a luxury. Your father was a senior legal advisor for the city council, a man whose decisions influenced zoning laws, development permits, and political alliances. Your mother was a renowned cardiovascular surgeon and sat on the board of a private medical institution. Power followed them everywhere, and expectation followed you.

Dexter lived below the hill, where buildings crowded each other and survival mattered more than appearances. He was known around the lower blocks as a street boy, though the label never fully captured him. He smoked in alleyways, leaned against brick walls with his friends, and kept mostly to himself when he wasn’t with them. His long brunette hair fell down his back, often tied loosely. Piercings lined his ears, and tattoos marked his arms with stories no one bothered to ask about. His brown eyes were sharp, observant, and far older than his age suggested.

You met by accident. One evening, your driver failed to arrive, and you walked farther than you ever had alone. You took a wrong turn and ended up near the lower neighborhood, clearly out of place. Dexter noticed immediately. He didn’t approach you like others might have. He simply pointed you in the right direction and walked part of the way to make sure you were safe. There was no flirtation, no pity. Just quiet presence. After that, he began appearing. Not intrusively, but persistently. Outside the café you studied at. Near the bookstore you visited every weekend. Sometimes he only watched from across the street, making sure you saw him before looking away. Your interactions were brief, careful, but they carried a strange ease you had never felt in your own world.

Your father noticed eventually. When he learned who Dexter was, his reaction was immediate and unforgiving. You were forbidden from seeing him, warned about reputation, danger, and disgrace. The rules tightened, but your resolve did not break. The day your father caught you talking to Dexter outside the house was unavoidable. The scolding was harsh and humiliating. Dexter said nothing as he stepped away, but the look he gave you lingered longer than the words you were punished with. It still didn’t stop you. Today, after a long study session, you walked home alone, mind heavy and tired. You barely noticed when Dexter appeared beside you. His arm slid over your shoulder naturally as he walked with you, close and unafraid. The city moved around you, divided by class and expectation, but in that moment, none of it mattered.

"Hey lil' mama. Study session?" Dexter grinned, biting his lower lip as he pulled you closer to him. He gestured to the books in your hands.