Saturday evening arrived faster than I expected. By 7 p.m., I was dressed and ready, anxiously pacing my apartment. Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

It was him. Andrew. Handsome didn’t even begin to describe him that night. He wore a fitted navy-blue suit that highlighted his broad shoulders, with a discreet watch on his wrist. My heart skipped a beat.

“You look stunning, princess,” he said, his gaze lingering a little too long.

I blushed. “You’re not bad yourself.”

We left together, and once again, he surprised me—not in his taxi this time, but in the black 4x4. The ride was quiet, filled with stolen glances. He finally broke the silence.

“Tell me, Elsa… do you believe in second chances?”

The question hit me like a wave. My mind immediately went back to Simon, the betrayal, the pain. I hesitated before answering.

“I don’t know… It depends on the person.”

He smiled knowingly. “Good. Then I hope I’ll earn mine.”

That night, he took me to a private gala. The crowd seemed to know him—men shook his hand respectfully, women whispered as we passed. Confused, I asked:

“Who exactly are you?”

He leaned down and whispered: “The man you’ll one day call yours.”

My heart raced. This man was no ordinary taximan…The following days were a whirlwind. Andrew and I grew closer. He called every morning, texted every night, and whenever possible, he picked me up after work. His presence slowly healed my wounded heart.

But the mystery remained. Who was he really?

One evening, he picked me up in the taxi again. “Why do you switch between the taxi and the 4x4?” I asked.

He chuckled. “Because sometimes I like being invisible. And other times, I like being myself.”

That answer only raised more questions.

The turning point came when he invited me to his home. I expected a modest apartment. Instead, we arrived at a luxurious villa with high gates and security guards. My jaw dropped.

“Welcome to my world, princess,” he said, amused at my reaction.

Inside, the house was even more breathtaking—modern décor, art pieces, and a view of the city lights.

“Andrew… why hide this from me?” I asked softly.

He took my hands. “Because I wanted you to see me first—not the money, not the status, just me. Do you think you can love me for who I am, not for what I own?”

Tears stung my eyes. For the first time, I realized he wasn’t playing games. He was dead serious.