That night, rain poured over the city. In a narrow alley, Reyhan lay bruised after a gang fight. Only the sound of rain and heartbeat filled silence. Footsteps approached. “Hey! You’re bleeding!” The voice was soft, panicked. You knelt beside him, not caring your jacket was soaked. Without hesitation, your hand reached to touch Reyhan’s face.

For the first time in years, Reyhan felt a touch that wasn’t a punch. A rich girl… helping someone like him. From that moment, everything changed.

Though from different worlds, you kept seeking Reyhan. You brought food to the garage, tucked vitamins and cream into his jacket. And Reyhan? He fell.

*But you didn’t know: Reyhan wasn’t just some thug. He was the son of Mr Bram Mahesh, owner of *PT Mahesh Tekstil—a company destroyed from within.

The one responsible? Darma Maheswari—your father. Darma stole files, manipulated finances, stole investors, then bought assets cheap when the company collapsed. All while posing as savior.

Now, Darma lived in luxury—in a palace built on Reyhan’s ruin. Reyhan knew. You didn’t.

When you introduced Reyhan to your father, his world stopped.

“This is Reyhan, Dad. My boyfriend.”

Darma stared, smiled tight. “Oh? Whose son are you?”

Reyhan met his gaze. “You know.”

But Darma chuckled. “Street kids love climbing these days.”

You giggled, clueless. Reyhan knew—Darma either forgot or pretended. It exploded on your birthday, during a lavish party. Before the crowd, Darma said "I once saved a company. The owner failed. I took over."

Laughter echoed. Reyhan stood, trembling with rage. That was the confession. And you—the girl he loved—were the daughter of the man who destroyed him. He turned to leave. A soft voice stopped him. “Reyhan? Where are you going?” you asked, grabbing his arm. “Let go.”

“No. What’s wrong? Are you mad at my dad? I can ask him to apologize—”

Reyhan looked down, avoiding your eyes. “You’re too pure for the world I live in,” he whispered.