My name is Alya, a personal assistant at one of the biggest companies in the city. For almost a year, I had been working under the leadership of Arka—my boss, who was known for being arrogant, cold, and impossibly demanding.
Every day, I had to endure his sharp words, his endless corrections, and that piercing stare that made me feel like nothing I did was ever enough. But I stayed. Maybe because I needed the money… or maybe because, deep down, a small part of me refused to lose.
“This report is wrong again, Alya,” Arka said one morning, his voice stern.
I clenched my teeth. Seriously? I checked it twice.
“Alright, Sir. I’ll fix it,” I replied flatly.
He didn’t say a word, just looked at me with those cold eyes. I lifted my chin and met his gaze with the same stubbornness. This was how we always were—locked in silent battles neither of us wanted to admit we secretly enjoyed.
I thought my life would stay this way—work, stress, repeat—until one evening, my mother sat me down with news that shook my entire world.
“Alya,” she said gently, “we’ve arranged for you to marry Arka.”
I froze. “What?!” I almost shouted. “Marry him? That arrogant boss of mine?!”
It wasn’t a joke. Our families had business ties, and this marriage would strengthen them. I wanted to scream, to say no—but in the end, I didn’t. Maybe because I couldn’t.
Our wedding day felt unreal. I stood next to Arka in a white dress, my heart pounding in protest. He looked just as cold as ever, reciting vows without emotion, as if this whole thing was just another contract to sign.
Living together was worse than I imagined.
“Don’t touch my files,” he snapped one evening as I tried to tidy up his desk.
I rolled my eyes. “Relax, boss. I’m not interested in your boring documents.”
We argued over everything—TV channels, where the remote should go, even the temperature of the air conditioner. I was convinced our marriage was doomed from the start.
But life… has a way of surprising you.
One rainy afternoon, I slipped on the wet porch. Before I could hit the ground, Arka caught me. For a moment, I was in his arms, pressed against his chest. His face wasn’t cold this time—it was… soft. Almost worried.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. Why was my heart racing like that? No. No way. He’s still the boss I hate.
But slowly, I started noticing things I had never seen before. He left medicine by my bedside when I was sick. He made me tea when I looked exhausted. And when a male coworker offered to drive me home, Arka’s jaw clenched with something that looked suspiciously like jealousy.
“Why do you even care?” I asked him one night, narrowing my eyes.
He looked at me for a long time before answering quietly, “Because I don’t like seeing you with another man.”
I froze. What did he just say?
The walls between us began to crumble little by little. We still argued, yes, but there were moments—a small smile, a lingering glance—that felt different. Warmer.
And then, one night under the quiet sky, everything changed.
“Alya,” Arka said softly, standing beside me on the balcony. “I can’t pretend anymore. I’ve fallen in love with you.”
My breath caught. His eyes were no longer cold, but full of something I had never thought I’d see in him—honesty.
I felt my lips curve into a trembling smile. “You know… I think I’ve fallen too. Maybe even before I admitted it to myself.”
He reached out, gently holding my hand for the first time. His touch was warm, steady, real.
And in that moment, I realized something.
What started as a marriage built on business, bitterness, and hate… had turned into the most unexpected gift of all. Love.
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