Alyhan is a mafia boss, a man with immense power and influence. He has twelve famous companies under his control and is known for his cold demeanor, never allowing any woman close to him. His trustful manager, Ali, is one of the few people he relies on. Alyhan owns twelve mansions and over fifty cars, each more luxurious than the last. He is so wealthy that he could practically buy the world, yet his main purpose is to help the needy and poor. He always carries a gun at the back of his waist and is impeccably dressed in a three-piece suit. His striking green eyes and handsome features make him a formidable presence. His company, Larosa, specializes in the diamond business.

Why did she affect me so much? he wondered. I've never felt this way before. What is it about her that’s so different? Alyhan couldn’t shake the image of her from his mind. He had to know more about her, understand what made her special. Maybe it's her innocence, her genuine nature.

His thoughts were interrupted by Ali’s return. "Sir, I have the information you requested," Ali said, handing over a file.

Alyhan took it, his curiosity growing. I need to see her again. He knew this feeling was dangerous, but he couldn't resist. This is just the beginning, he thought, a rare smile touching his lips. **Let’s see where this leads.

As Miray focused on her work, she couldn’t help but glance at the door every now and then, half-expecting Alyhan to walk back in. No, stop it, Miray. She scolded herself. He’s just another man. Don’t let him distract you. You have too much at stake.

But deep down, a part of her was intrigued. Who was Alyhan, really? And why did he seem so different from anyone she had ever met?

"Why did he end up sitting beside me?" Hooria asked herself, cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and curiosity. She hadn't even properly apologized to him for today. The memory of Asad's arrival in the classroom flashed through her mind.

The teacher had instructed, "Introduce yourself." Asad's eyes had found Hooria's, causing her to feel flustered. Why is he looking at me like that? she had thought, unable to hold his gaze. He smiled at her reaction before introducing himself.

"My name is Asad Khan. Let's all get along," he had said confidently. The girls in the class were captivated by his presence, their eyes fixed on him. But he looked directly at Hooria. Her friend nudged her and whispered, "What a handsome boy. Thank goodness he's here." The teacher then gestured for him to take the empty seat beside Hooria.

Seated in the second column, third row, Hooria watched as he walked over and settled beside her.

"Hello, Miss Clumsy," he greeted her with a playful smile.

Her cheeks flushed pink. "I'm Hooria, not Miss Clumsy."

"Ah, hi, Hooria. Are you okay now?" he asked sincerely.

She bit her lip, feeling the need to apologize. I have to say sorry. It wasn’t my intention to bump into him earlier. "I'm sorry about today. I didn’t mean to..."

He smiled again, leaning in closer. "I didn’t catch that. Could you say it louder?"

Why is he making this so difficult? Hooria wondered, her heart racing. She took a deep breath, gathering her courage. "I’m sorry for today. It really wasn’t my intention."

Asad's smile widened, and he nodded. "That's better. No worries, Hooria. Let’s just get along."

Hooria felt a rush of relief mingled with confusion. Why is he being so kind to me? she wondered, perplexed by his friendly demeanor. And why do I care so much about what he thinks? Throughout the class, she stole glances at him, trying to decipher the enigma of this boy who had effortlessly flustered her yet also made her feel strangely comfortable with just a smile.

As the lesson continued, her thoughts kept returning to him. He seemed so confident, so assured. And that smile... She shook her head, attempting to focus on the teacher's words. I mustn't let myself get distracted.

But despite her efforts, Asad's presence beside her was impossible to ignore. Every now and then, she caught him glancing in her direction, and each time, her heart skipped a beat. What is happening to me? she wondered, caught between excitement and apprehension.

During lunch, Dephne approached Hooria with a gleeful grin. She pulled up a chair across from Hooria, eyes sparkling with excitement. "Yoo, you are so lucky!" she exclaimed, practically bouncing in her seat.

Hooria looked up, puzzled. "What? How?"

Dephne leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You're sitting next to Mr. Handsome."

Hooria’s heart skipped a beat. She glanced over at the boy in question, trying to appear nonchalant. He was indeed striking, with his chiseled features and confident demeanor. But she couldn’t let Dephne see her flustered. "Hann, he is handsome, but no way," she muttered, shaking her head.

Defne rolled her eyes dramatically and gave Hooria a playful slap on the head. "Are you blind? He is so fine..."

Hooria felt her cheeks flush. She had to steer the conversation away. "Stop this nonsense," she said, trying to sound stern but failing to hide her embarrassment. "Okay, tell me, is he more handsome than your Royal-race?"

Dephne’s eyes widened in mock offense. "Aaaa... To be honest, he is way more handsome than him."

Hooria couldn't help but laugh. "Stupid girl," she said, half-heartedly. "Go, just go to your seat."

Dephne wasn’t giving up that easily. "Why are you so angry?" she asked, leaning back and crossing her arms.

"I'm not angry," Hooria protested, though she could feel a slight edge in her voice.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"Then what's the matter?" Defne pressed on. "Actually, he is the guy I hit today."

Hooria’s eyes widened. "What?" she exclaimed, her mind racing.. Could it really be him?

Defne nodded vigorously. "So he is that handsome. Now I think you are destined."

Hooria rolled her eyes, trying to mask the fluttering in her stomach. "What nonsense," she said, dismissively. "Stop watching K-dramas."

Defne giggled. "Oh Hooria, please. Just make a boyfriend in your life. Or you'll die single. He is so handsome."

"Just shut up, Defne," Hooria snapped, though her blush betrayed her true feelings. She looked down at her lunch, pretending to be absorbed in her food, but her mind was whirling. Could it really be fate? She shook her head, trying to dispel the ridiculous notion, but a small part of her couldn’t help but hope.

Hooria stood by the window, her gaze drawn to the basketball court below. Asad was playing, completely absorbed in the game. She watched him, her heart skipping a beat. *He is so beautiful, she thought, unable to tear her eyes away.

The sunlight danced in her light brown eyes, making them sparkle. Asad's long hair caught the light too, shining with every movement. His hair is so shiny, she mused. And he's so tall... He seemed like the perfect boyfriend material, effortlessly charismatic and athletic.

For a moment, she let herself get lost in the fantasy. *He’s like someone out of a dream, she thought, a small smile playing on her lips. But then, reality intruded. *Oh, wait, what are you thinking, Hooria? She shook her head, trying to dispel the daydream. *Don’t be serious. All men are the same. They are too mean.

She took a deep breath, trying to refocus her thoughts. Just focus on your career, she told herself firmly. But even as she turned away from the window, she couldn’t completely banish the image of Asad from her mind.

She goes to her seat and tries to study something, anything to focus on. After school, she heads to the bike rack. She approaches her cycle, sits on it, and places her feet on the pedals. As she tries to start it, she falls hard, pain shooting through her knees. Struggling to stand, she notices her cycle is broken. Of course, just her luck. Why does this always happen to me? she thinks, frustrated. She feels a wave of hopelessness—her home is far from college, and Defne is already gone.

Sitting on the stairs with a sad face, she doesn't notice Asad passing by. He doesn't see her either. But then he glances back and sees a familiar set of hair through a small gap. Hooria? He walks back to the stairs and finds her sitting there, looking stressed.

"Are you alright?" he asks, worry evident in his voice.

She looks up, first seeing his shoes, then his concerned face. "Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry," she replies, trying to sound convincing.

"You don't look fine," he insists.

"I'm fine, just leave me here and go," she says, but he shakes his head.

"I'm not here to leave you. Come with me," he says, grabbing her hand. As she tries to stand, she falls slightly, showing her pain, and lands against Asad's chest. He catches her, his concern deepening.

"Are you alright?" he asks again, seeing the injuries. "Miss Clumsy, why are you so clumsy? Why don't you take care of yourself?"

Before she can respond, he picks her up in his arms. She feels a mix of embarrassment and confusion—no boy has ever lifted her like this. They reach the nurse's office, but it's empty. Asad gently places her on the bed.

"Just sit here. I'll be right back," he says, leaving to fetch the first aid kit. Returning quickly, he pulls her leg towards him.

"What are you doing?" she asks, trying to pull back.

"I'm trying to help you, Miss Clumsy. Now just sit still and don't move," he replies, focused on her wounds. He starts applying medicine, but she grabs his hands.

"Don't do that. My wound will heal itself. There's no need," she protests.

He gently but firmly grabs her hand and puts it on her back. "Just stay still," he says. She complies, feeling the sting of the medicine and letting out a small cry.

Asad notices her reaction and, with a soft smile, starts blowing on her wound. She feels a blush rising to her cheeks, unable to hide her flustered feelings.

After administering first aid, he asked, "What happened?"

"Nothing," she replied.

Oh god, her whole face is saying that she's lying. He pressed, "Now tell me the truth."

"Actually, my bicycle is broken," she admitted.

"Oh, due to today's accident?"

"Yeah," she nodded.

"So, how will you get home?" he inquired.

"I can manage," she said.

He mimicked her, "I can manage."

She looked at him with doe eyes, and he sighed, "Okay. Bye."

As he turned to leave, he thought, Is she really expecting me to leave her here? He straightened his shoulders, suddenly turned around, and picked her up again in his arms.

"Haaaaaa… Put me down! Put me down, just put me down!" she protested.

"I will not put you down until you agree to get a ride home with me," he declared.

"Asad, put me down… okay, okay. Now let's go."

He set her down gently. She followed him, keeping a small distance. She stumbled and instinctively grabbed Asad's shirt from behind.

He froze, feeling his heart race and cheeks heat up. He moved back and asked, "Are you okay?"

"Sorry, I just… I'm okay," she stammered.

He walked to the car and opened the door, "Sit here."

"You were on a bike today," she noted.

"Oh, thanks to you, it's going to be repaired. Now just sit," he insisted.

She hesitated but got in. She felt the familiar queasiness of car sickness creeping up on her. She wanted to tell him but couldn't muster the courage.

The car started moving, and she felt worse. She finally blurted out, "Asad, please open the window."

He looked at her, concerned. "Is anything wrong?"

"Just open the window, or I'll vomit," she pleaded.

He quickly opened the window, and she leaned her face towards the breeze, feeling slightly better. He patted her back gently, and she involuntarily moved back, causing their heads to collide.

"Ouch!" she exclaimed, rubbing her forehead.

"Sorry!" he said quickly, rubbing his own head. Why did I have to be so clumsy?

She laughed softly, "It's okay. Thanks for the ride, Asad."

"No problem," he replied, his heart still pounding. He couldn't help but smile at the situation, despite the pain.

"Oh, stop near this mall," she requested as they neared her destination.

"Oh, okay," Asad replied, telling driver to pull over. "Wait here. Is your home nearby?" he asked.

"Yeah, nearby," she confirmed.

He got out to open the door for her. She stepped out and thanked him warmly, "Thank you so much, Asad. I just don't know how to thank you."

He blushed slightly and murmured, "It's okay."

He diverted his gaze to the sky, feeling shy under her grateful gaze. She smiled at his bashfulness. "Okay then, see you tomorrow."

"Okay, goodbye—oh wait," he interrupted before she could leave. "Just wait two minutes."

Curious, she waited while he hurried back to the car, retrieved something, and returned to her side.

"Put this ointment on your wound," he said, handing her a small tube.

She was surprised; no one except her mother had taken care of her like this before. "Thanks," she said softly, touched by his thoughtfulness.

Taking her bicycle, she rode off straight ahead. Asad watched her go, feeling a warmth in his chest at having helped her.

Miray paced back and forth, worry etched on her face as she waited for Hooria, who was unusually late. "Should I go to college?" she wondered aloud, her anxiety mounting. Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

"I'm coming," Miray called out, rushing to open the door. "Oh my jaan, why are you so late?" she exclaimed, pulling Hooria into a tight hug.

"My bicycle broke down, so a friend gave me a ride," Hooria explained.

"Oh! How did it happen?" Miray asked, concerned.

"It's a long story. I'll tell you after I take a bath," Hooria replied.

"Okay, honey," Miray said, leading her inside. She set the table with food while Hooria went to freshen up. When Hooria returned, rubbing her wet hair with a towel "How pleasant smell. Your favorite dish, chicken rice," she announced.

"Oh, thanks, Mom," Hooria said gratefully, taking her seat at the table. As they ate, she recounted the events of the day, detailing what had happened with her bicycle and the unexpected kindness of her friend.

Boss, here is the information about that teacher. Alyhan stared at the information in front of him, his mind racing with conflicting emotions. Miray—a name that now carried weight and complexity beyond mere syllables. She wasn't just another teacher; she had a life, a past. Her daughter, Hooria, a college student at seventeen, mirrored his own daughter's age, igniting a pang of longing he hadn't felt in years.