You’re just a janitor’s daughter, and I’m the director’s son!” he mocked, but fate had other plans

Changing schools is always a challenge for a student. It means stepping into an unfamiliar world where acceptance isn’t guaranteed. This transition becomes even harder in the final years of school when friendships are already established, and fitting in feels nearly impossible. For an outgoing and confident teenager, it may just be a bump in the road. But for someone shy and reserved, it can feel like an uphill battle with no end in sight.
Milana’s world crumbled when her father abandoned their family for another woman. Left with no choice, she and her mother moved to a smaller apartment in a different part of the city. Changing schools was inevitable—Milana refused to live under the same roof as the man who had betrayed them. The thought of maintaining contact with him never even crossed her mind. In her eyes, as well as her mother’s, his departure was the ultimate act of betrayal.
She struggled to comprehend how someone could throw away years of love and commitment for a fleeting passion. Were her parents’ feelings ever real? Or had their love been nothing more than hollow words, beautiful but meaningless? Milana firmly believed that true love doesn’t simply fade, nor does it allow someone to turn their back on their family so easily. The unanswered questions haunted her, deepening the wound in her heart.
At her new school, her classmates remained indifferent. They neither welcomed her nor actively bullied her, which was a small relief. She decided to keep a low profile and simply endure the remaining months until graduation. University awaited—new people, fresh opportunities, a clean slate. In the meantime, she devoted herself to helping her mother, who had taken a job as a cleaner in a small cafe near the school. After classes, Milana would join her, assisting with washing dishes and tidying up.
Despite her efforts to remain unnoticed, one student caught her attention—Sasha Sokolov, the principal’s son. He was strikingly handsome, and no matter how much Milana tried to avoid staring, her gaze always betrayed her when he walked by. She would quickly look away, embarrassed by her own fascination.
One day, a girl from a parallel class blocked her path.
“Sasha is out of your league,” she sneered. “My father is a deputy director at a major company. We’re a perfect match. But you? A nobody. A cleaner’s daughter. Don’t even think about getting in our way.”
The words stung, but Milana clenched her jaw and walked past. She couldn’t believe that, even in the eleventh grade, some people still measured worth by their parents’ status. Weren’t personal ambitions and hard work what truly mattered?
One afternoon, as she waited for class to begin, Milana absentmindedly sketched in her notebook. Immersed in the drawing, she didn’t realize she had drawn a portrait of Sasha until a sudden shove from behind made her jump. Her notebook tumbled to the floor, landing in the hands of the class troublemaker.
“What do we have here?” he said mockingly, flipping the page for everyone to see. “Ah, look at this! Our new girl is in love with the Falcon himself!”
Laughter erupted around the room. The nickname “Darkie” was thrown her way, a cruel reference to her slightly tanned complexion. From that moment, the taunting never stopped. Milana never hid the fact that her mother was a cleaner, nor was she ashamed of it. Every job deserved respect. But her classmates saw it as an easy target.
Sasha entered the room just as the bully handed him her notebook. “Look what our artist has drawn,” he smirked. “Seems like she’s got a crush on you.”
Milana’s face burned with humiliation. She reached out desperately. “Give it back!”
Instead of responding, Sasha examined the drawing with a smirk before tossing it onto her desk. “Dreaming isn’t a crime,” he said dismissively.
The class roared with laughter. But then, Sasha did something unexpected—he walked up to her, tilted her chin up, and looked her straight in the eyes.
“You’re just the daughter of a cleaner, and I’m the son of the principal. Feel the difference?” he mocked.
Milana felt tears sting her eyes. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but she knew if she did, they would win. Instead, she swallowed the pain and sat in silence, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing her break.
That evening, in their tiny apartment, she let herself cry into her pillow. But the humiliation solidified something inside her—she would never allow herself to care about Sasha again.
Years passed. Milana graduated and started working at a well-known fast-food chain while preparing for university entrance exams. Meanwhile, her mother, after a long legal battle, finally received her share of property from the divorce. With that money, they bought a small one-bedroom apartment, freeing themselves from the burden of rent. Life, though still challenging, was improving.
Sasha, on the other hand, coasted through life on his father’s connections. He got into a prestigious university with little effort. But his easy life crumbled when his father lost his position due to financial misconduct. Without status or influence, the once-powerful man was just another unemployed worker. Sasha, unprepared for real life, found himself adrift. With no skills and no prospects, he took a job as a warehouse loader just to make ends meet.
One day, he was assigned to deliver boxes to an art exhibition. Dragging heavy crates, he muttered curses under his breath. Then, as he looked around, his gaze locked onto a woman standing by the window. Something about her was strikingly familiar. When she turned, recognition hit him like a wave—it was Milana. But she was different. Confident, poised, radiant. She carried herself with an elegance that made it clear—she had risen far beyond their school days.
“Hey,” he said, wiping sweat from his forehead as he approached her.
Milana met his gaze, her expression unreadable. “Hello, Sasha.”
“Incredible coincidence! What are you doing here?” he asked, trying to mask his surprise.
“This is my exhibition,” she replied coolly. “I was always good at drawing, if you remember.”
Sasha felt the sting of embarrassment. He remembered the drawing she had made of him all those years ago—the one that had led to her public humiliation. Now, the tables had turned. He wanted to apologize, but the words wouldn’t come. Asking for forgiveness was foreign to him. He had always been the one others admired, not the one who had to make amends.
Milana, meanwhile, felt an old bitterness resurface. Though she had moved on, seeing Sasha now—stripped of his arrogance, humbled by life—was a moment she wouldn’t forget.
“Since we’ve met again, maybe we could grab a coffee?” Sasha suggested with a forced smile. “We’re adults now. Surely your old crush hasn’t completely faded?”
Milana arched a brow. “You’re a loader, and I’m a successful artist. Feel the difference?” she said, throwing his own words back at him.
Sasha laughed nervously, but there was no humor in his eyes. “Touché. But still, how about—”
“Thanks, but no thanks,” Milana interrupted. “My husband is picking me up soon.”
At that moment, a sleek luxury car pulled up outside. A well-dressed man stepped out and wrapped an arm around Milana’s waist, greeting her with a warm kiss.
Sasha felt a sharp pang of regret. The girl he had once mocked had become a woman far beyond his reach. His grandmother’s words echoed in his mind: Never spit in the well—you may need to drink from it someday. He had learned the hard way that life had a way of turning the tables.
And just like that, Milana walked away, leaving him behind—exactly where he had left her all those years ago.