The house was grand, standing tall against the golden sunset, yet to Ayla, it felt cold and lifeless. She clutched her mother's hand, her small fingers tightening around Alice Wilson's as they stepped through the heavy iron gates of her grandparents' home. It had been a long, painful journey from the place they once called home, a house where screams echoed more often than laughter, where silence was a shield against pain, and where a man who should have been their protector had become their worst nightmare.
Alice had left everything behind. She had endured years of emotional and physical torment at the hands of Ray Wilson, a husband who saw her as nothing more than his possession. He refused to divorce her, refused to let her go, not out of love, but out of pride, control, and cruelty.
For years, she had endured it for her children. For Luke, who had been old enough to understand the pain but too young to change anything. For Ayla, who had been too little to know the entire truth but old enough to feel the absence of love in their home.
But one day, Alice had chosen herself.
She had packed their bags, held Ayla close, and walked away, leaving behind wealth, status, and a marriage that had stolen her soul. She never took a single penny from the Wilson family, nor did she ever look back. Her son, Luke, had already grown into an independent man, and though he helped his mother in small ways, Alice had made it clear: she would stand on her own.
Now, at thirteen years old, Ayla was beginning a new life.
She didn't know if it would be better or worse, but one thing she did know: she was no longer in that house where love had been nothing more than an illusion.
---
The new school was intimidating. Students moved in groups, laughing chatting, their voices blending into a chaotic hum. Ayla clutched the strap of her backpack, following the teacher through the hallways.
That was when she saw him.
A boy stood at the end of the hallway, adjusting the books in his arms. The afternoon sunlight spilled through the windows, casting a glow over his sharp features. His dark hair fell slightly over his forehead, and his eyes, cold and distant, were fixed on something outside the window.
He wasn't extraordinarily handsome, nor did he carry the arrogance of boys who knew they were admired. But something about him made Ayla's world stop. Her heart stilled, then pounded so loudly she thought everyone could hear it.
She didn't know his name. She didn't know who he was. But in that moment, it didn't matter.
The teacher called out, "Silas, can you take Ayla Wilson to her class?"
He turned, his gaze landing on her. His eyes were unreadable, his expression indifferent. Without a word, he nodded and gestured for her to follow.
Ayla's breath caught in her throat as she took hesitant steps behind him.
This was love at first sight.
Not because of his looks. Not because of his kindness; he hadn't even smiled at her. It was something deeper, something unexplainable. It was as if her heart had already chosen him before she even knew his name.
She wanted to say something. To thank him, to introduce herself. But Silas remained silent, walking ahead with an air of complete disinterest.
And yet, that moment changed everything.
From that day onward, her world revolved around him.