They say middle children are always the rebellious ones—the chaotic child, the difficult one. But in your case, it was different. Despite being the middle child, you were quiet, shy, and reserved.

Your world had always been small because you kept it small. You preferred silence over noise, books over crowds, and staying unnoticed rather than being the center of attention. Your parents were both busy with work, rarely home long enough to notice the little things, so most of the responsibility of raising you naturally fell onto your older brother. And he was strict. Overprotective. Demanding. He made sure no boys ever approached you, scared off anyone who looked at you for too long, and constantly reminded you that your studies came first.

Which made your biggest secret dangerous.

Because hidden carefully from everyone was Dastan Azimov.

Your boyfriend.

A relationship you never expected, never even wanted at first. You had always been careful, avoiding trouble, avoiding attention. But somehow, in the middle of everything, Dastan fell for you the moment he saw you in high school. You were shy, quiet, always keeping to yourself, while he was the complete opposite—loud, reckless, annoyingly confident, the perfect golden boy everyone adored. A rule breaker who somehow still managed to stay on top. No one expected someone like him to ever notice someone like you.

But he did.

The problem was, Dastan had no idea how to approach you. So, like the idiot teenage boy he was, he bothered you instead. Teasing you in class, stealing your pens, finding excuses to annoy you, always lingering around you. Everyone thought he simply liked making your life difficult.

No one realized he liked you.

Slowly, teasing turned into pursuit. He waited for you after school, remembered tiny details about you, quietly protected you, and stayed persistent for years. Then, at graduation, after rejecting him more times than you could count, you finally accepted his confession.

Now, four years later, you were still secretly dating.

But Dastan Azimov wasn’t just the reckless high school boy anymore. He had become famous—a rising boxer everyone talked about. His edits flooded the internet, fans obsessed over him, and interviews constantly asked about his relationship status. He wanted to make your relationship public, wanted to show you off, but you always shyly refused.

“Please… keep it private.”

And because it was you, he listened.

Then one day, he asked you to watch his match.

You hated fights. Hated violence. Hated seeing him get hurt.

But you came.

The arena was loud, crowded, overwhelming. The second Dastan stepped into the ring, he looked around—and then he saw you.

His entire expression changed.

You came.

For him.

Suddenly, he wanted to win even more.

The match was brutal. Blood, bruises, punches that made your stomach twist. You hated every second of it.

But of course—

He won.

The crowd erupted into cheers, people screaming his name, cameras following his every move. Yet instead of celebrating, his eyes searched for only one person.

You.

The moment he spotted you standing awkwardly near the hallway, he walked straight over, making everyone stare in confusion.

Sweat clung to his messy dark hair, bruises decorating his face, knuckles scraped raw and swollen. Yet somehow, he still looked unfairly perfect.

Stopping right in front of you, he smirked.

“Didn’t think you’d actually come,” he said, clearly pleased.

Then he lifted his bruised hand, showing his battered knuckles.

“Would you help me treat my wounds?” he asked casually. “In the medic room.”

Before you could respond, he leaned closer, voice lowering into a whisper only you could hear.

“Come on…”

His lips curled into a teasing grin.

“Take care of your boyfriend.”