THE BEGINNING

**Christine's POV**

It has always been him. From the moment I first laid eyes on Steven back in middle school, I was utterly captivated. He swooped in like a knight in shining armor, saving me from the relentless bullies who tormented me for being adopted.

Ever since then, Steven became my entire world—my Prince Charming.

He was the epitome of cuteness, standing taller than the other boys with his mesmerizing green eyes that sparkled like emeralds and his shiny blonde hair that glinted under the sun. His perfectly shaped nose and soft, strawberry lips added to his undeniable charm. Always my protector, he listened and comforted me whenever my mother chastised me for my lackluster grades.

For years, Steven and I were inseparable friends, sharing secrets and dreams, until the day he abruptly moved away to another city. Just like that, he was gone, leaving me feeling adrift and alone.

Growing up without Steven was a lonely journey. Friends were scarce, and solitude often became my only companion. To fill the void, I inspired myself to embody the dream girls from the magazines he admired—the ones with perfect lives and perfect looks. It wasn’t a difficult task; after all, I was adopted because of my cuteness. It may sound boastful, but I possess long, lustrous blonde hair, deep blue eyes that seem to hold the ocean’s mysteries, and plump lips that beckon attention.

During those transformative years, I entered puberty earlier than most of my peers, blossoming with curves just between the ages of 12 and 16. Every boy at school saw me as their dream girl, and the attention was overwhelming. Men would gaze at me with lustful eyes wherever I went, and even girls who didn’t swing that way harbored fantasies about me, along with some of the gay guys in my life.

But despite all the attention, Steven never looked my way.

Then, during my second year of high school, he returned, and oh my, was he something to behold. He had grown even taller, his figure now muscular and defined. His hair, cut short, accentuated those incredible green eyes of his, making them shine even brighter. And the best part? He had moved in right next door to me! Can you believe it? Steven was not only my neighbor again but also my classmate.

I tried reaching out to him several times, but he merely ignored me, walking away as if I didn’t exist. Instead, he easily conversed with other girls; each smile he shared was a dagger to my heart.

I couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming wave of jealousy wash over me for every girl who had his attention—it seemed like every girl in school was enchanted by him back then.

It drove me mad when he smiled at them or casually said, “Hey.”

I was crushing hard—no, I was deeply in love—but Steven met me with a wall of silence, leaving me heartbroken.

He never spoke a word to me at home, and when I tried to draw him into conversation, he ordered me around, making me do things for him. Still, I didn’t mind; my heart yearned for his attention. I just wanted him to notice me, to understand that I would always be there to support and love him.

Despite all the tears he turned me into an emotional wreck with and the heartaches I faced watching him with someone else, here I am, twelve years after high school and college, holding a solid degree in accounting and a master’s degree poised to take me higher. Yet, I’ve chosen to settle for the role of Steven's assistant.

Why, you may ask?

The answer is simple:

Because I love him. I cherish the moments I get to see him every day, even if our conversations mainly revolve around business.

I don’t care; I thrive in the proximity to the one I adore. My parents seem indifferent to my choice. My father sees my position as a strategic business move to connect us more closely with the Jones family, believing it will benefit him. My mother, on the other hand, isn’t enamored with Steven himself, but with the wealth his family possesses.

Steven's family ranks among the wealthiest in the country, their businesses sprawling across the globe. We were neighbors back then because he lived with his mother, who had separated from his father due to his numerous affairs.

After his mother, "Aunty Lucy," tragically passed away from food poisoning, Steven returned to live with his father and younger sister, Kelsey. Aunty Lucy was a wonderful woman, and her absence left a void in our community.

Following the police investigation that led to no conclusions, they left Steven shattered and alone.

I still vividly recall the day the case was closed. He cried on my shoulder, clinging to me with a desperation that shook me to my core.

It was one of the happiest yet saddest days of my life because, during that moment of vulnerability, he kissed me. Don’t misunderstand; I mourned Aunty Lucy deeply, but I couldn’t shake the electric thrill coursing through me during my very first kiss.

I want all my first experiences to be shared with Steven, to have him be my last in every conceivable way, and I am resolute in making that happen.

We never spoke about the kiss again. He pretended as if it had never occurred, but I understood—it was simply his shy nature at play.

Right?