Aylin Scott took a day off to visit Milena Gibson, while Salem had his childhood friend Francis Lawson over at his place. Salem and Francis had been thick as thieves since their sandbox days, practically growing up together. Though Francis was a regular at Salem's house, lately, Salem's attention had been more on Aylin, unintentionally neglecting his longtime buddy.

Parents usually divide their kid's friends into two camps at school: the "good" ones and the "bad" ones. The "good" friends are those who seem to excel in everything—the benchmarks parents hope their kids will aspire to. While parents wish their children would emulate them, kids often feel overshadowed. On the flip side, "bad" friends are viewed as rowdy influences, cautionary tales for worried parents. Francis was neither; while he was often mischievous, he excelled in many areas, making Salem feel challenged but thrilled to have him around.

“Hey, Salem,” Francis said, lounging on the couch, “you always seem to invite me over when your angelic sister isn’t around. What’s so bad about letting me meet her? I swear I’m harmless!”

Salem shrugged, shutting the door behind him, and tossed a slipper at Francis. "Get off your lazy bum! Mom just cleaned the couch covers, and if you mess them up, she won't scold you, but she'll definitely have a word with me!"

Francis caught the slipper, pinching his nose. “Man, your foot odor could knock out a skunk! Good thing you weren’t born into my family—our head nurse would have chased you around!”

Salem laughed and bounded over to reclaim the slipper. “Give it back!”

“Nah!”

Salem threatened to rub his foot on Francis, “You handing it over, or not?”

Francis, holding his nose, tossed the slipper back. “Take it, stink boy!”

Just then, the sound of keys turned in the door. Francis quickly sat upright, "Who is it? Your sister?"

Salem glanced at the entrance. Sure enough, Aylin walked in, kicking off her shoes and slipping into house slippers, “Aylin, weren’t you hanging out at a friend’s place? You’re back already?”

“Yeah, after dinner, Milena’s friends wanted to hit a club. Not my vibe, so I left early.” Aylin glanced briefly at Francis before she looked away.

“Aylin, meet my best bud, Francis Lawson. He’s the voice of the school radio and the literature club president. He’s got some tips for your writing!” Salem made the introductions with pride, as if Francis's accomplishments were his own.

Aylin replied with a simple "Oh," not showing much enthusiasm or warmth, catching Francis off guard. Without much interest, she turned to Salem and said, "Salem, Aunt’s working late. I’ll see what’s in the fridge and cook up something for you two." She headed to the kitchen without waiting for an answer.

"Anything’s fine!" Francis chimed in, more for effect than out of need. Once Aylin was gone, he whispered to Salem, "Wow, your sister’s something—beautiful and composed!"

Salem shot him a stern look and muttered, “I’m serious—no funny business. Go be Romeo somewhere else, but keep away from my sister!”

Though Francis didn’t fully get Salem’s vibe, his carefree nature remained undeterred. Something about Aylin fascinated him, not romantically, just pure admiration.

That evening, Aylin's simple pasta with tomatoes and eggs garnered raves from the guys, though they’d tasted better. The compliments were more habitual than heartfelt, and Aylin didn’t dwell on their typical praise.

Later, Francis dropped by Aylin's class under the guise of inviting her to join the literature club, suggesting she casually submit a piece for him to review. His presence kicked up a storm among the girls nearby, making Aylin finally believe Salem's friend was indeed popular at school. It was Aylin's essay, "A Life's Inquiry," that truly engaged Francis—not in a romantic light, but through mutual respect and empathy.

In "A Life's Inquiry," Aylin shared a mood, tranquil yet poignant, like a gentle river or a calm sea. Reading her words, Francis recognized she was different, distinct in her introspection and insights. There was an air of grace about her, like a classic painting—subtle yet significant. If there was a word for it, it would be "aloof," yet an aloofness mixed with warmth, charm, and serenity. She was anything but a typical sixteen-year-old.

He felt it was time to openly express his admiration.

On a bright day, he read Aylin's "A Life's Inquiry" over the school radio.

“You are unique, yet you seek happiness like everyone else. Happiness isn't elusive because your standards are high; it's about keeping your heart open…” he concluded.

Hearing her own words over the radio initially brought Aylin quiet joy—unspoken yet profound. But as Francis finished speaking, tears streamed down her face—not from sorrow or relief, but pure understanding. There exists a kind of dialogue beyond words, found only when one writes and another truly listens.

“Hey, the handsome guy is back!” Milena Gibson teased Aylin playfully, “Wow, you’re moved to tears! Our star writer skipped two math classes for this. No surprise you’re emotional!” Milena teased Aylin, hoping it would help her face the waiting boy with more poise. Milena wished Aylin would find love, believing it might fill the void in her life.

Aylin chuckled, “Enough already! Quit teasing!”

“Hold it together, no tears! Not yet, anyway!” Milena made a reassuring gesture.

Aylin gently nudged Milena aside and approached Francis with an open heart, brimming with joy. Perhaps this joy wasn’t romance yet, but in that moment, she felt it deeply.

“Thank you,” Aylin said simply, not specifying whether it was for his acknowledgment or for understanding her heart’s voice. She trusted he’d get it, even if not instantly, someday.

“No problem,” Francis managed, smiling shyly, entirely captivated by Aylin. He couldn’t muster his usual playful banter.

During breaks, they’d stroll together—a silent pact between them. They never labeled it dating. They didn’t speak of love, and often, words weren’t needed. They walked, close or apart, leisurely circling the track. Their hearts walked too, wandering aimlessly yet joyfully.

Some things need not be said, just shared understanding.

Aylin hadn’t expected Kayleigh Myers to drop by. That day, while attending a lecture, her phone vibrated in her bag. Anxious, she silenced it, worried the eccentric professor might notice. Even through his thick glasses, a glance from him was unnerving. Once class ended, she called her mom back.

"Mom, is everything okay? I was in class."

Unexpectedly, Kayleigh sounded ecstatic. "Aylin, guess where I am right now?"

Aylin, perceptive as ever, knew her mom must be somewhere different. "London? Or New York?"

"Right on! I’m at the Marriott by your school!"

"Seriously?!" Aylin felt a thrill. A luxury hotel! But she calmed herself, "Did you come with Uncle Dan for a business trip?"

"Nope, just me. I’m here to see you," Kayleigh answered confidently, sensing her daughter’s thoughts.

The response warmed Aylin's heart. With her guard down, she exclaimed, "Send me your room number. I’ll pop by after dropping off my books!"

As Aylin stepped through the hotel’s revolving doors, she savored the feeling. The staff's looks weren’t particularly friendly, but she understood. How often did students like her walk into such grand places?

The hotel radiated luxury. No wonder her mother trailed Uncle Dan eagerly; who wouldn’t yield to such comfort? But reflecting on her father’s imprisonment brought sadness. It wasn’t her mom’s fault but that woman, Lulu’s. So there was no need to measure her mom’s happiness against her dad’s downfall. Aylin tried to smile at her mom, embracing her warmly.

"Mom, why didn’t you mention you were coming sooner?" Aylin playfully rebuked, wrapping herself around Kayleigh.

"I missed you, sweetie. I missed hugging my precious big girl," Kayleigh said, kissing Aylin’s forehead tenderly.

That night, they nestled together, lost in nostalgia. After nine long years, Aylin felt truly at home in her mother’s arms, relishing the love she'd yearned for. It was overwhelming, and amidst this sweetness, she lost track of its taste. Was there bitterness too? No matter, it was all she’d sought through childhood and adolescence, and now it filled her heart.

Kayleigh, too, recounted Aylin's early years—from her first cries to her first steps, first words, and first writing, down to every illness and doctor's visit, memories etched in vivid detail.

Aylin chuckled at her mom's storytelling, "Seriously, Mom?"

"Did I really grow up that slow?"

"Hey, Mom, see? I’ve got your widow’s peak!"

As they laughed, Aylin suddenly felt a pang of sadness. They’d missed so much time together. Her mom hadn’t forgotten her at all. When a mother remembers every little detail of your past, it’s not a miracle—it’s maternal love.

“Oh, you silly girl, why the tears suddenly?” Kayleigh pulled Aylin close, "Sweetheart, you’re grown up now; take care and don’t cry so easily." As she spoke, her own tears started to fall.

Aylin giggled, “Well, I see where I get it—I’m clearly your daughter. Can Uncle Dan and Rohan handle you?”

“You cheeky…” Kayleigh laughed.

“Mom, you should live happily with them. I mean it. Your happiness is paramount. Besides, my little brother—he’s family too, isn’t he?”

“Of course!”

“Please don’t dislike Dad, okay? Mom,” Aylin looked at her, "Things are in the past now. Dad’s not a bad guy. He grew up without a dad and under Grandma's wing. That’s why he seems rebellious, trying to be seen. Look, even you fell for him! Sometimes I feel that way too, wanting to stand out because you weren’t there, yet not wanting to vanish, just wanting to be special."

"My daughter’s nothing like him!" Kayleigh teased.

“Alright, Mom, I know about Lulu. But Dad’s really changed. The other day she came to see him, but he didn’t meet her. Dad’s different now, he’s made…” Aylin paused, realizing she’d revealed too much, sticking out her tongue playfully before continuing.

Kayleigh smiled, "I believe you."

Whether she truly believed didn’t matter much now. That time, those people, seemed like another life. She didn’t want to hate anymore; she no longer had the energy. Yet, her kind-hearted daughter, bearing so much at a young age, didn’t hold resentment. The question stayed in Kayleigh’s heart, knowing the answer. No more trust issues remained, she thought quietly.

"Mom, in this life," yes, this life nearing its twilight, "Mom never meant to hurt anyone, but that’s easier said than done. I've let you down the most. I haven’t been the mother you deserved. You don’t blame me, but I can’t help feeling guilty. And Raiden and Milan have treated you like their own; I'm so thankful, but never got to thank them. Then there's your grandparents—they're aging, and I can’t be with them..."

“Mom?!” Aylin looked at Kayleigh in surprise. Her words weren’t just sad; they filled Aylin with a foreboding.

Kayleigh realized she’d worried her daughter, so with a relaxed smile, she said, “Look at me, I’m leaving tomorrow, getting all sentimental.”

“Don’t be gloomy! You can always visit, or I can come during breaks to see you and my little brother!”

Kayleigh gently rubbed her stomach, silently pondering how many "futures" were left, "Aylin, if someday I’m not around, when you meet Rohan and the baby, I hope you can be sisters."

Aylin laughed, “Mom’s turning sentimental, see! Another tear! Quit talking morbidly. You’ll live long and happy, and we’ll stick to you like glue!”

Watching her mother tenderly touch her belly, Aylin thought deeply. Nineteen years ago, her mom must’ve stroked her belly with similar joy. For the first time, Aylin truly comprehended her mother's journey. Her life was tough, yet she lived fully because she loved everyone. Her kindness wasn’t weakness; her gentleness masked strength; her mother was indeed a woman with profound understanding of life, wisdom, and insight.

Aylin Scott preferred a simple, uncomplicated life. She dreaded the whirl of chaos and complexity, feeling unprepared for such demands. Despite her strong desire to spend time alone with Francis Lawson, she wasn’t ready to admit she’d fallen for him. Perhaps she lacked the emotional strength or readiness to fully open her heart to love. She only wished to enjoy its sweet promise. The constant warmth in her smile was a clear sign to anyone observing that her time for love had come.

Milena Gibson often teased her recently, saying she was "destined for romance." Aylin would insistently explain, "Francis and I aren't like that." Even though Milena seemed to agree, Aylin knew she didn’t buy their friendship story. Aylin herself sometimes wondered if she was getting too emotionally involved.

Sitting alone in the classroom, Aylin rested her chin on her hands, getting lost in thought as she looked around the empty room. This was different from her earlier feelings of loneliness. In this quiet space, she could connect with her innermost thoughts.

Aylin was determined to be a good student, knowing how valuable her chance at the prestigious boarding school was. Yet, Francis’s irresistible kindness often seemed to distract her from this path, filling her with a sense of unease.

"Why are you still here?" The gentle, sweet voice belonged to Miss Toni, her teacher.

Toni felt slightly puzzled, as Aylin’s distant expression seemed to push her away. No, she couldn’t let this chance slip by, nor could she retreat. This young homeroom teacher, fresh out of college, silently encouraged herself as she casually picked up a book from Aylin’s desk, flipping through it awkwardly, "Brene Brown's book on the soul. It's a great read!"

"Yes, it’s quite interesting," Aylin replied with a nervous smile.

"Alright, it’s getting late. Head home!" Toni gave Aylin’s shoulder a friendly pat before leaving the classroom.

Watching Toni walk away, Aylin felt a bit uneasy. Miss Toni was so kind, graceful, and approachable, without any of the sternness or aloofness of a strict teacher. Yet, why did she feel frightened? She couldn’t explain it, but in those moments, even fearing kind people, she sensed the depth of her own loneliness.

She wished to escape her solitude, but would Francis be her knight in shining armor? He seemed to be, like a warm, lively flame. She hoped his warmth could reach her, melt her barriers, but she didn’t want to rush into declarations of love to avoid the pressure.

At home, Kayleigh Gardner paced anxiously around the kitchen, frequently peeking in. She was seething, but the ticking clock only heightened her agitation. Finally, she couldn’t hold back anymore and knocked on the sliding kitchen door, saying, "Are you just going to let this slide? At this rate, Aylin's going to end up like her mother!"

Raiden Gardner, chopping potatoes, set down the knife and smiled, "Mom, what’s the matter now?"

"What’s the matter? I’ve been here four days, and when has she ever come home on time? In a town like this, with all its attractions and distractions, she's probably getting mixed up with the wrong crowd!" Kayleigh was unfamiliar with and intimidated by the vivid outside world that seemed to captivate people unnoticed. Her son had been drawn in by it, spending little time at home.

"Mom, you’re imagining things. Aylin isn’t like that! Didn’t I tell Saleem she’s staying late at school for a project?" Raiden replied, trying to smooth things over. He knew Aylin was making excuses; her stories about projects or helping classmates were merely pretexts. She simply wasn’t in a hurry to return home and face her grandmother. Honestly, even he was relieved she wasn’t home early; her grandmother critiqued everything.

Just then, Aylin walked in. "Hi, Grandma," she greeted politely.

Kayleigh, who had been keeping an eye on the door, turned her head away, pretending not to see or hear Aylin. Aylin was used to this and wasn’t too hurt by it. She changed her shoes, washed her hands, and went to her room.

She left the door ajar, not wanting her grandmother to accuse her of shutting her out.

Kayleigh sat on the couch, the TV playing a soap opera she had no interest in. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Aylin flipping through a book. Kayleigh knew Aylin was deliberately avoiding her. Though Kayleigh didn’t care for the girl, she resented being actively ignored by her.

"Look at that dress! So short, how’s she supposed to wear it? Raiden, you spoil her, and she’ll land in trouble. She’ll just run off with some rogue, like mother, like daughter!" Kayleigh remarked about the tailored dress Aylin was wearing, which Raiden had made for her last week. It was new but not revealing. Many girls wore similar styles, yet Kayleigh criticized it anyway. These comments hit Aylin hard, and she slammed the door behind her.

Later, Raiden finished up in the kitchen, and seeing Aylin with her head buried under the covers in her room, he walked over gently. He lifted the duvet, saying in a soothing tone, "Come on, sweetheart! It’s hot in here. Aren’t you worried about getting a rash? Dinner’s ready!"

He reached for her hand and found it wet with tears. In the dim light, her tear-streaked face tugged at Raiden's heart. The pain and tenderness overwhelmed him. He pulled her close, "Hey, don’t cry. I know you’re hurt, but your grandma is old now. Let’s not take it to heart, okay?"

Raiden felt his attempts at comfort were weak.

His embrace was warm, exuding a fatherly scent, and Aylin appreciated being held like this, in a fatherly embrace. In this warmth, she couldn’t keep her tears at bay.

"Don’t cry now. It’s alright," Raiden murmured, soothing her like a child.

"Uncle, am I really so terrible that she would hate me?" Aylin sobbed. "She’s my real grandma. Why is she so harsh? She holds a grudge against my mom, but that's not me. Even during the family’s struggles, she loved you. Isn’t that right?"

Raiden wiped away her tears. Aylin was right. Her mother was tough with outsiders, but to her own children, she showed kindness. With her mother’s protective nature, Raiden’s childhood, teen years, and youth were happy. He couldn’t understand Aylin’s suffering in that home.

"Uncle, I know she resents my mom, but I haven’t had any contact with her in years, and Grandma knows that. Why transfer that resentment to me? Why suggest I’ll end up like her? I’m not like her. Even when Grandma is harsh, I’ve never considered leaving. I just want to avoid her hostility. Do you get that?”

Seeing the hurt in Aylin’s eyes, Raiden felt the family owed her too much, more than they could ever repay. She couldn’t continue living trapped by bitterness, pride, and insecurity. He wanted her life to be full, or at least appear that way. He knew what the child was missing the most.

"Aylin, can we talk about your mother?" Raiden asked cautiously.

Aylin was taken aback. Since her parents' divorce, this was the first time her uncle had broached the topic of "that person." She felt both nervous and eager, choosing neither to decline nor to accept outright.

"Your mom married into our family at twenty-two. She was a good woman, wanting to settle down with your dad. After she had you, she became even more grounded. I never questioned that! Over the years, you've seen the kind of man your dad is. Do you think any woman should devote her life to someone like that? Regarding their marriage, I want to defend your dad because he’s my brother, but as a woman, I must say your mom was a good woman, even when she gave up. It was tough for her." Raiden unexpectedly felt tears for Kayleigh Myers.

"She was a good woman, but she doesn’t deserve to be a mom."

"Don’t say that, Aylin. No good woman doesn’t want to be a good mom. When she left, she wanted to take you with her. I didn’t let her! I promised her I’d treat you like my own daughter. If you’re upset, blame your uncle. The further she is from you, the more she misses you. Try to understand her, okay?"

"Does she really miss me?"

"Of course, always."

Whether her uncle’s words were true or not, Aylin felt a rare sense of contentment at that moment.

"Aylin, one day, when you grow up, when you love someone and have children, you'll understand some bonds and loves can’t be severed."

Her uncle’s words made Aylin reflect deeply on relationships.

Aylin disappeared for two days before reemerging in the dormitory, her joy radiating brightly. Her happiness was so palpable it seemed to spill over, lighting up her entire presence. The girls had been worried about her, but upon seeing her now, they all seemed to have a revelation, nearly speaking in unison, "Oh, had a romantic encounter?"

Chelsea grabbed her playfully, "Tell us, was he everything?"

Aylin gently pushed her away, "What nonsense!"

Aylin laughed it off as a joke, and likely the other roommates did too, because she had already told Jemma her mother was visiting. But Sheila, who wasn’t in the know, naturally assumed it was about Eren after overhearing. Unsure of what to say, she left the room hurriedly, feeling a twinge of irritation.

In English class, Aylin sat beside Sheila like always. While pulling out her notebook, two combs from the Royalty Hotel slipped onto her desk. She set them aside and continued with her notes.

Sheila was annoyed, thinking Aylin had gotten close to Eren and refused to look directly at her. However, she noticed this small detail from the corner of her eye and blurted out, "Wow, Eren’s got money! A night at the Royalty Hotel is like, two or three grand. Two nights would cover our tuition for a year!"

Aylin chuckled at Sheila’s sour tone, "What are you thinking? I’ve only seen Eren once since we crossed paths on the pier."

Sheila’s mood lifted instantly, "Not Eren? So, you’re seeing a rich guy?"

"Stop kidding around! My mom flew in from Los Angeles. They’ve been saying this since I moved here three years ago. Why would she bother with a drunkard?"

"Really? Are you not going to give me another chance? We loved each other so much back then—don’t you remember? Aylin, you can’t be this heartless, you know? I still love you!" His voice was raw and desperate, filled with despair yet earnest.

Francis’s voice echoed through the phone. The confident young man she remembered was now different, changed by time. Yet she still felt an unexplainable sympathy. Strangely, tears started to fall as she silently wiped them away. The past? Was it truly over? She asked herself to forget, to release the sweet memories and painful scars.

"It’s over, Francis! It’s all over!" Her voice was firm.

"Can we at least stay friends, Aylin?" He sounded clearer now.

"No, thanks. Goodbye, Francis." Aylin responded coldly. She had once hoped for a light and fragrant friendship, like the scent of blooming flowers, but today he had shattered that peace. Now, nothing remained.

"Aylin, you’re so cold-hearted! Remember this—I love you, Aylin! Only you. I don’t even know why I love you so much..." Francis shouted into the phone, and the sound echoed in Aylin’s ears until they were numb. She instinctively held the phone farther away.

Sheila heard the shouting and smirked, deliberately raising her voice, "Wow, that’s intense! Why not give him another chance?"

This prompted Jemma, Chelsea, and Quinn to gather around, "What’s up?" "I knew it! A talented and beautiful woman like Aylin is bound to attract admirers!" "Shh—"

Aylin shot them a panicked look, covering the phone, "It’s not what you think. Go back to what you were doing!"

The girls laughed and dispersed.

Aylin spoke into the phone, "Francis, I have things to do, so I’m hanging up."

Love, once gone, is gone for good, unrecoverable.

Aylin finally settled at "Artsy Culture." Apart from an involuntary touch of melancholy, Aylin could be considered quite the head-turner. Attractive people do tend to blend in more easily, except for a few unfriendly glares from some women. Especially from Rebecca, who regarded Aylin as an adversary.

Aylin understood what this woman was thinking. People often project their own insecurities onto others. But she couldn’t hastily explain that she wouldn’t be the rival Rebecca imagined in competition over men.

The next day, the school's announcement room echoed with Francis Lawson's voice as he read his own poem aloud. At first, it seemed like a typical motivational piece, but it was secretly penned just for Aylin Scott.

When a gentle breeze stirs,

Leaves showcase their lush green purity

As summer nears,

Cicadas sing their lonely tune amidst the trees

"In the scent of fresh pastries, we talk of a bountiful year ahead."

Autumn is the poet’s season

But for you, it’s a harsh winter

You are a flower, blooming in the snow’s embrace, so proudly

Beneath your feet, the path is fraught with challenges

But without winter's trials, how would you know the brilliance of spring?

The flower won't forever lack color and fragrance

The world won’t stay desolate and cheerless

Move forward, just beyond is the scenery

Believe, Aylin

Embrace youth

Set sail and embark on your journey

You will bloom, you will share your essence

Aylin felt a pleasant warmth spread through her like little butterflies tickling her heart. She couldn’t quite decipher the message Francis was sending through the poem. Perhaps it was merely a senior's appreciation for a junior. But she chose to think it held more, an inkling of affection from a man to a woman.

What young girl doesn’t yearn for love? When Aylin didn’t see Francis, she missed him. She even dreamt of him confessing his feelings. Like her peers, she cherished romantic dreams and yearned for sincere affection. She hoped for warm, strong hands to guide her through quiet nights and a genuine heart that beat only for her under the vast, starry sky. Aylin waited for someone mature, capable of protecting her, with style and grace, confidence and strength, and a hint of humor... and Francis seemed to fit her imagination. Yet, the distance between her dreams and her understated reality was great. So, she waited, afraid to chase those dreams, but now that the opportunity had arisen, she was utterly overwhelmed...

In Aylin's heart, her longing for love was intertwined with an endless desire for familial warmth. Her pursuit went beyond mere girlish infatuation to seeking reliance—a blend of family love, romantic affection, and friendship.

Francis wrote the poem after hearing a Cinderella story from Salem Gibson. In spirit and appearance, this Cinderella was meant to be a princess. Despite their relationship and his impending graduation, he kept an ambiguous stance instead of declaring his feelings. Yet, upon truly understanding her aloofness and loneliness, he saw himself as the prince who found the glass slipper.

No matter how much Salem tried to deter him, he was resolute in helping her fit into that glass slipper.

Francis decided to confess his feelings to Aylin. He sensed her affections but didn’t grasp the complexities of her worries or what she needed from him beyond emotional support.

He knocked on her classroom door and looked intently at her usual spot. Her flustered, shy look convinced him that she felt something for him.

Francis walked over to Aylin’s desk. In front of everyone, he took her hand and led her outside. On impulse, Aylin followed. All her fears about her grandmother causing a scene, her aunt’s disappointment, her classmates’ envy or ridicule vanished, leaving only him. As they exited the school building, a cool breeze jolted Aylin back to reality. She pulled her hand from Francis. “Let go, let me go!” The attention of everyone made her uneasy.

“What’s wrong?” Francis asked.

“Nothing, it’s just... this isn’t right.” Aylin shook her head.

“What’s not right? Everything was fine a minute ago,” Francis chuckled, assuming he understood her shy hesitation.

“Did you want to talk to me about something? If not, I need to go back!” Aylin said with composure.

Francis smiled warmly before delivering his prepared speech: “Aylin, I like you! I really like you. I love your grace, your fresh perspective, your kindness, and generosity. I’m captivated by your many talents and your unique charm... So many things about you fascinate me. Please, will you be my girlfriend?”

Aylin looked at him, amazed. The confession she had hoped for came so suddenly, she was at a loss. “You…”

“Don’t say anything. I just wanted you to know—I like you!”

“Francis, listen. You’re a wonderful guy, and many girls would admire you, but I’m different! I can’t be with you! At least, not yet. Can you understand?” Aylin said, feeling a deep sense of loss as she turned him down.

“Why?”

“Because—I’m like a fragile flower, nurtured with care. I need stability before I can become who I’m meant to be!”

Watching Aylin run away in tears broke Francis's heart. He pondered her words and started to understand. She lacked security and belonging—fundamental needs for any girl, and she had none. He wanted to offer her more than just young love, but how could he convince her that he could provide safety and a sense of belonging?

The following day, Aylin was unexpectedly chosen to replace Rebecca on a business trip with Raiden Palmer to Boston. The news stirred the office atmosphere. Rebecca, in particular, looked furious, making Aylin wish she could disappear. Only Rebecca and Aylin knew the reason for the sudden change, but neither would reveal it. Rebecca feared the embarrassment, and Aylin wanted to avoid conflict.

She really didn’t want to go!

It was clear this would only intensify Rebecca’s resentment. But it was a business trip, a company directive she couldn’t decline.

When Rebecca approached with a sour expression, Aylin didn’t dare look up. Just the sound of Rebecca's clicking heels was unsettling.

“Well?” Rebecca sneered, leaning arrogantly against Aylin’s desk. “Impressive, girl! You’ve got some nerve, haven’t you? Tell me, when did you cozy up to our Mr. Palmer?”

Inwardly, Aylin thought, cozy up? That’s not even close! She wanted to retort, but with colleagues nearby, she had to remain composed. “Rebecca, you’re mistaken. I just found out about this today. I don’t know why Mr. Palmer replaced you, but it wasn’t my doing.”

“It’s not because of you? Then it must be my fault, right?” Rebecca shouted, as if ready to lash out. She felt guilty herself. “From the start, I knew you were a cunning one. Young yet sly. Did you sneak into Mr. Palmer’s bed last night?” She smirked at Aylin’s flushed embarrassment, feeling pleased. “Oh, why blush? Did I strike a nerve? Mind you, Mr. Palmer has a wife and kids!”

Aylin’s lips trembled with anger. She felt cold, scared, and furious, knowing she was no match for Rebecca’s boldness. Was it worth the argument? Thankfully, a colleague named Finn intervened, “That’s enough, Aylin. Don’t mind her kind. Mr. Palmer’s waiting in the garage. You’d better hurry!”

Though angry, Rebecca held her tongue. She wanted to strike back, but Finn was well-regarded at the company, not someone easily challenged.

Grateful, Aylin gathered her things and slipped out of the office, leaving Rebecca behind.

“Hey, enjoy the ride in Mr. Palmer’s new car!” Rebecca’s mocking laughter made Aylin shiver as she headed for the elevator.

In the elevator, she descended to the parking level. Raiden Palmer honked his horn as she emerged, pointing out his car. Aylin hurried over, got in the back seat, and buckled up.

Raiden maneuvered the car out of the garage and onto the road. Catching a glimpse of Aylin’s puffy eyes in the rearview mirror, he asked, “What’s up, kiddo?”

“Nothing,” Aylin replied softly.

Once on the highway, Raiden probed, “Did Rebecca hassle you?”

His words opened a flood of tears, though Aylin tried to maintain her composure.

Raiden guessed correctly and slammed the steering wheel. “She’s out of line!”

“You knew she was trouble, so why replace her with me? Trying to get me in trouble?” Aylin asked, feeling wronged.

“I’m sorry, kid. I didn’t think it through. I’ll sort it out when we’re back.”

Aylin wiped her eyes, reminding herself this was her boss. He brought her along for work, nothing more. To lead a stable life, she needed to stay in her place, speak and act accordingly, not overstep.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Palmer. Really, no one bullied me.”

Raiden smiled warmly through the rearview mirror, thinking her just a child at heart.

The conference, dubbed the North Atlantic Cultural Industries Summit, was held at a swanky hotel in Boston's Beacon Hill. Cultural industry leaders and notable authors from Boston, New York, and Philly attended. Aylin initially thought it was a learning opportunity but soon realized it was just intellectuals mingling with corporate elites, feigning sophistication over wine and small talk.

Aylin had never been to such a fancy dinner. She recalled Eren Murray’s trip to Boston's Public Garden to sketch during a college summer break. He had promised her a visit one day to try the famous Boston Cream Pie. A promise that would never come to fruition.

“What’s on your mind, kiddo?” Raiden asked, returning with a glass of wine after working the room.

He had originally chosen Rebecca for her social skills, ability to keep the mood light and manage drinks. But unforeseen circumstances had changed things, and now he regretted it. This young girl clearly wasn’t comfortable in such a setting. Why had he brought her?

“Nothing, Mr. Palmer. Just soaking it all in,” Aylin smiled.

“Enjoying the meal?”

“Yes, I’m full.”

“If you’re bored, take a walk to Boston Public Garden. I’ll call when we’re leaving.”

“Really?” Aylin’s eyes lit up with excitement.

A child at heart, Raiden thought. “Sure. Just be safe and don’t wander off too far.”

“Got it.”

Aylin felt free as she slipped out, savoring her brief escape.

The midday sun shone warmly as she wandered the garden paths, alone, enjoying Eren’s favorite views. The Public Garden bridges were many, all similar—she didn’t know which one he'd sketched. It didn’t matter. Sitting on one, she removed her shoes, letting her feet dangle as she gazed at the serene water.

The garden’s beauty shimmered like a dream, pulling her into a tranquil state. It was magical. She imagined Eren there, smiling warmly, painting, each stroke vibrant.

“Eren, are you done yet? Let’s pack up and head home!” She tried drawing him nearer, missing him terribly even knowing he hated interruptions when painting.

Suddenly, a firm hand grasped her arm, pulling her up. “Kiddo, why are you sitting here? It’s dangerous!” Raiden had seen her from the hotel window and rushed over.

As he set her down, she stumbled, knocking a shoe into the water.

Raiden frowned, holding back a scold as her innocent eyes met his.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Palmer,” Aylin apologized, slipping on her remaining shoe, unsure what to do next. Could she really head back to New York barefoot? She couldn’t impose on her boss for new shoes either.

Raiden knelt, “Come on, I’ll give you a ride. Let’s get to the car first, then we’ll find some shoes.”

“No, I’ll manage!” Aylin insisted, hopping on one leg. He was her boss. She couldn’t blur lines by accepting such kindness.

“Silly girl. It’s a long way back. When will you get there hopping? Besides, I have work and can’t afford to waste time. No one’s watching, and I won’t say a word back there.”

He was genuinely upset, yet how could he tolerate such antics? Aylin felt embarrassed but had no choice but to climb onto Raiden’s back.

Fortunately, Raiden was sturdy, carrying her with ease. Yet he felt the warm droplets on his neck and hair—she was crying. Why? Had his tone been too harsh? He hadn’t thought so.

“What’s wrong, kiddo?” he asked gently.

“Sorry, Mr. Palmer...” Aylin sniffled, fighting back tears but failing.

“No need to apologize. Losing a shoe was an accident. If I hadn’t pulled so abruptly, you wouldn’t have lost it, right?” His voice was soft, a tone reserved only for his young son.

“Today’s been so embarrassing, needing you to carry me.”

“Embarrassing, yes,” Raiden chuckled. “But didn’t you catch me at my worst last night?”