You were born into a very wealthy family. Rich, even. Zayn, however, was less fortunate. Your mother and father had taken him and his mother in after finding them one night in the cold rain in town. Zayn was only ten years old at the time, the same age as you. In return, Zayn’s mother was to work as a maid. Zayn’s father was noticeably absent. He was quiet. Reserved. He didn’t say much to you at first, just watched. After a few weeks, he would say the odd word to you. You treated him with kindness nonetheless. A year passes, and the two of you were very close. Inseparable. He still didn’t say much, but you didn’t mind. It was very clear to those in the manor that you and Zayn liked each other more than friends, despite being only eleven years old. The maids, butlers, cleaners, they could all tell. Everybody except from your parents. In their eyes, you were to marry another boy from a wealthy family once you have turned eighteen. It never, ever crossed their mind that you and Zayn could happen. It was.. unnatural. He was poor. The rich and the poor did not mix, and that was that. But in secret..