Hello, my name is Aira.
If you asked me when this story started, I’d say it began the day a quiet boy walked into my classroom and made the air feel different.
Back then, I didn’t know his name. I only knew my best friend went stiff the moment she saw him.
He handed her a book, said two words, and left like the room didn’t deserve him.
I stared after him and whispered, “Is he single?”
My best friend looked like she wanted to bury me alive.
“He is,” she said. “But don’t even think about it.”
“Why? He looks like a walking green flag.”
She leaned closer. “He’s dangerous.”
I almost laughed. “That guy? Dangerous? He looks like he’d say sorry if you bumped into him.”
She shook her head. “In our family there are two sides. Ours… and his.”
I frowned. “Explain.”
“He doesn’t have parents. Everything belongs to him. When he was little, people tried to take it from him. Some were nice. Some weren’t. He learned fast.”
I went quiet.
“He doesn’t trust easily,” she added. “And when he gets angry at men…” She stopped herself. “Just don’t test it.”
I stared at the door he’d walked through.
“Still,” I said, trying to sound brave, “he doesn’t look like a red flag.”
“He doesn’t hurt women,” she replied. “That’s why you won’t see it.”
I smiled anyway.
I shouldn’t have.
Years passed.
I thought life would move on.
It did.
Just not the way I expected.
“Your assignment is finalized. You’ll be assisting the CEO directly.”
I blinked at HR. “The CEO?”
She nodded. “You’ll understand soon.”
I did.
The door opened.
And there he was.
Same calm presence. Sharper edges. Eyes that felt like they could read things you hadn’t even thought yet.
He looked at me for a second longer than necessary.
“Aira,” he said.
He remembered.
I forgot how to breathe.
Working with him was… a war.
He didn’t like me.
Not openly. Not loudly.
But I could tell.
He was cold. Strict. Unnecessarily precise.
“You’re late by two minutes.”
“It’s 9:02,” I said.
“Exactly.”
I forced a smile. “Good morning to you too.”
He didn’t reply.
I hated him a little.
Which is funny, because I also noticed everything.
The way he skipped meals.
The way he stayed late even when he didn’t need to.
The way his office stayed too quiet, like no one belonged there.
So I started doing small things.
Leaving coffee on his desk.
Fixing his schedule so he had breaks.
Reminding him to eat.
At first, he ignored it.
Then one day, he said, “Stop doing unnecessary things.”
“It’s not unnecessary,” I replied. “It’s basic human care.”
“I didn’t ask for it.”
“Too bad,” I said, walking out before he could answer.
That was our relationship.
Arguments. Silence. Small acts that didn’t match the words.
One afternoon, I almost got into an accident on my way to a meeting.
Before I could react, someone pulled me back.
Him.
His grip was tight. Too tight.
“Are you careless?” he snapped.
“I’m fine,” I said, trying to pull away.
He didn’t let go immediately.
For a second, his expression wasn’t cold.
It was… something else.
Then he let go.
“Pay attention next time.”
And walked away like nothing happened.
I stood there, confused.
Days turned into months.
Something changed.
He still argued with me.
Still corrected me.
But he started noticing more.
“You didn’t eat.”
“You look tired.”
“Go home. I’ll handle the rest.”
I didn’t question it.
Maybe I didn’t want to.
Then one day…
I left.
No goodbye. No explanation.
Family emergency Sudden,Urgent.
I thought I’d come back in a few days.
I didn’t know what would happen while I was gone.
I heard about it later.
How he started asking where I was.
How he checked my schedule.
How he went quiet.
How he lost his temper at people who couldn’t answer him.
He searched.
Everywhere.
Places I didn’t even know he knew.
And for the first time in his life…
He couldn’t find something he wanted.
Three days later, I was home.
Sitting on the floor, helping my mom cut vegetables, when someone knocked.
I opened the door.
And there he was.
Standing in front of my house like he didn’t belong there.
But also like he refused to leave.
We just stared at each other.
“You disappeared,” he said.
His voice wasn’t calm.
It wasn’t angry either.
It was… tight.
“I had to come home,” I said softly.
“You didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t think I had to.”
He stepped closer.
“You did.”
My heart started beating faster.
“Why?” I asked.
Silence.
Then he said it.
“I couldn’t find you.”
Something in his voice broke through me.
“I went everywhere,” he continued. “And you weren’t there.”
I didn’t know what to say.
So I stayed quiet.
He looked at me like he was finally understanding something.
Like a puzzle had just clicked into place.
Then, quietly…
“I don’t like it when you’re not around.”
My breath caught.
“That’s not normal,” I said, trying to joke.
“I know.”
“And?”
He didn’t hesitate this time.
“I think I fell in love with you.”
Everything went silent.
“You think?” I whispered.
“I don’t know when,” he said. “But I know I don’t want you anywhere I can’t reach.”
That should’ve scared me.
But it didn’t.
Because for the first time…
He didn’t look untouchable.
He looked… real.
We still argue.
He still acts like I’m impossible.
I still call him out when he’s being too much.
But now…
He eats when I remind him.
He rests when I insist.
And sometimes, when he thinks I’m not looking…
He smiles.
Just a little.
A year later, he stood in front of me again.
This time, with a ring.
“You’re not disappearing again,” he said.
I raised an eyebrow. “That’s your proposal?”
He nodded. “Stay where I can see you.”
I laughed.
Then I said yes.
My best friend was right.
He is dangerous.
But not to me.
Never to me.
To me…
He’s just someone who learned how to love late.
And once he did…
He never let go.
