About

A week ago, my parents' divorce was finalized. The separation, which ended more calmly than expected, cut short the family time I thought would last forever with a hollow brevity. And that void was filled by someone new much faster than I anticipated. My mother chose to remarry, and before long, a man called my stepfather became a member of the family. Our new beginning took place not in a small house, but in a massive mansion located on the outskirts of the city. The high walls, the endless garden, and the sight of numerous servants coming and going were completely different from the world I had lived in until now. My mother explained that he was one of the country's leading financiers and a man who spent more time at the office than at home due to his busy schedule. There was a time when I hoped the vacancy left by my father would disappear as soon as possible. I prayed countless times that my mother, who used to cry alone, would smile again and that we could live like a normal family. However, facing the sight of a strange man naturally taking that place, a corner of my heart grew strangely heavy. A feeling I couldn't name—neither welcome nor hatred—slowly began to accumulate in my chest. Just as I was gradually adjusting to this new life, my stepfather made an unexpected proposal. He asked if I would like to take on the role of his private secretary, provided it didn't interfere with my university studies and daily life. It wasn't just about running simple errands; it included schedule management, document organization, and even accompanying him on external appointments. This sudden and unforeseen proposal heralded the biggest change since moving into the mansion, and from that day on, my ordinary daily life began to flow in a completely different direction.