Jasmine looked at the boy standing before her. There was warmth in his gaze—pure kindness—and an undeniable sense of security that radiated from him, the kind every girl longs to feel. For a moment, Jasmine froze. He clearly seemed like nothing more than a penniless student, so how did he possess such an irresistible charm?
Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she said, "Okay, stop asking. Those people are powerful figures in society—people you could never handle. Really, don't ask again. I'm not going to tell you."
"All right, then," Grayson said, seeing that Jasmine was determined not to speak. He didn't press further. After all she'd just been through, her emotions were still raw; it was better to wait until she felt steadier. Someday, she would tell him everything in her own time.
"But even though you won't tell me, you have to promise me you won't pull any more stunts like jumping into the lake," Grayson added, his voice gentle but firm.
"Yeah." Jasmine nodded hard, the memory of those moments still making her heart pound. "Thinking back to what happened just now, I'm terrified at even the thought. Thank you for saving me. I'm Jasmine Ramirez, from the School of Public Administration."
"I'm Grayson Cole, from the School of Management."
"Hey, here—have some of this!" Jasmine suddenly picked up the Häagen‐Dazs cup she'd abandoned on the grass, holding it out to Grayson in both hands.
"Oh—this is way too expensive."
Grayson didn't refuse. He knew that by saving Jasmine, he had done something she could never repay. If he ate this ice cream, it would put her mind at ease.
He took a single spoonful, then offered it back. "Here—you try some, too."
Jasmine blushed, but Grayson insisted. Reluctantly, she accepted it, flicking out her tongue and quickly licking the spot where he had bitten. She didn't shy away from where he'd already tasted.
"Your turn again."
Jasmine passed the cup back.
"Let's share it," Grayson said, breaking off two slender twigs from a nearby shrub and handing one to Jasmine.
Her cheeks warmed to pink, but she took the twig.
"Come closer," Grayson said, holding the cup of vanilla ice cream before them.
So there they sat—side by side on the grassy lawn by the university lake, sunlight warming their shoulders—finishing that single cup of Häagen‐Dazs together. Years later, whenever Grayson and Jasmine recalled that moment, their hearts still fluttered.
"Can I see you here again tomorrow at noon?" Grayson asked, looking at Jasmine.
In that instant, Jasmine seemed to epitomize natural beauty: her lips as delicate as a butterfly's wings, slender and gentle; her eyes deep, as though brimming with untold stories; her nose high and proud, lending her an air of quiet grace. Her features were undeniably noble. Yet there was something in her expression—a subtle hint of self‐doubt, as though she carried an invisible burden of insecurity.
"Yeah… yeah, okay."
Jasmine's face burned, and her heartbeat spiked. Her life was far from easy, surrounded as she was by hostility. She felt like a frightened rabbit in a perilous meadow. But Grayson made her feel something she had never felt before: a powerful sense of safety. In that moment, tears threatened to spill.
The next day at noon, Grayson arrived at the lake, and sure enough, Jasmine was already there, sitting in the exact spot from yesterday. Hearing him approach, she turned quickly; when she saw it was Grayson, a small, relieved smile blossomed on her face.
"I got this for you!"
She offered a plastic container with both hands. Inside were neatly cut pieces of fruit: apples, pears, cantaloupe, papaya, dragon fruit—each slice perfectly cleaned and arranged. It was clear that Jasmine had put a lot of thought and care into it.
"These look incredible. But they must've cost a fortune—next time, don't spend money on me like this."
Over their earlier conversations, Grayson had learned that Jasmine never allowed herself to buy fruit. Though these fruits were modest and well within reach for an ordinary college student, for Jasmine they were a luxury.
"It wasn't expensive," she insisted, cheeks faintly pink. "I got half-rotten fruit from the street vendor for a bargain. But don't worry—I used a knife in my dorm to cut away all the bad spots. I even washed them multiple times. Go ahead—eat!"
"Thanks."
Something tugged at Grayson's heart. He could picture Jasmine in her tiny dorm, meticulously scrubbing and cutting fruit so he could have something special.
"Let's eat together."
"No, I've already eaten," Jasmine said quickly. "You go ahead—consider it your daily nutrition boost." In Jasmine's eyes, Grayson was just another poor student scraping by on campus.
She barely finished speaking when her stomach growled embarrassingly, its hollowness undeniable. Her face turned crimson.
Grayson winced. He should have brought proper food from the dining hall instead of just fruit. Those discounted fruits, though cheap, had cost Jasmine her meagre meal budget for the day. She had gone hungry so he could eat well, and that truly broke his heart.
From that day on, Grayson looked forward to lunchtime. Every day, without fail, he would head to the lake to meet Jasmine—and each time he packed bagged meals from the cafeteria so they could eat together. He didn't splurge on gourmet food—just ordinary meals—because he didn't want to reveal his true social standing all at once. Instead, he planned to slowly win her trust and approach her as an equal.
"Grayson, what's up with you always sprinting out at noon? Got a new flame to see?"
"Yeah, Grayson, you look happier these days—face all lit up. Good for you. Forget that gold-digger Sienna!"
"And hey, Grayson, when you've got a moment, let's get Jace and Indie together and go out for a pizza or something!"
As Grayson exited the dorm, Miles and Tyler bantered over a video game. Grayson just smiled, said nothing, and headed straight to the campus cafeteria.
"Hi, I'd like two grilled chicken-and-rice meals, two cheeseburger combos, two mixed fruit cups, and two bowls of corn chowder—please, all to go."
Carrying a tower of neatly bagged containers, Grayson hurried toward the lake. He arrived early that day, but Jasmine wasn't there yet. No matter—he would wait. He pictured her face when she saw all that food, imagining the look of surprise lighting up her eyes. That thought alone warmed his heart.
He thought of how she usually lived on bread and peanut butter, rarely indulging herself. On the rare occasions she treated herself, it was only a small snack from the cafeteria. "One day," he mused, "I'll bring her to every restaurant near campus."
Lost in those happy thoughts, he branded the image in his mind—until he glanced at his watch and realised Jasmine should've been there by now. Something was off.
He phoned her. Thankfully, she answered almost immediately.
"Jasmine, I'm at the lake. Where are you?" Grayson asked, deliberately not mentioning the food—he wanted it to be a surprise.
"Oh, Grayson… I don't think I can come over today." Her voice trembled with apology.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Our project group is doing a promo event at the West Campus Youth Park, and the professor insisted everyone attend. I really… I'm so sorry," Jasmine said, guilt and regret in every syllable.
"Seriously?" Grayson groaned. The Hawthorne campus was massive, and West Campus was nearly a mile away. Clearly, he genuinely couldn't make it in time.
Sitting on the grass with all that food still before him, Grayson had no appetite. Then a thought struck him: he could bring it to her.
He slapped his forehead, grabbed the stack of meals, and set off at a jog across campus, finally collapsing on the pavement of West Campus, panting. He mentally scolded himself: "I really need to get a bike."
The West Campus Youth Park was a small, leafy square—something like an on-campus plaza lined with benches. Grayson carried the food inside, hoping to find Jasmine's group, but after strolling the length of the park, he saw no sign of a promo team at all.
"Did I get the wrong location?" he wondered, anxiety creeping in. He dialled her number once more.
"Jasmine, where are you?"
"At the Youth Park," came her quick reply.
"I'm here, but there's no one running a promo today," Grayson said, scanning the open space.
"Oh…" Jasmine's voice wavered. "We finished early and just got back."
"Where are you now? I'll come find you," he urged.
"Uh…" Her voice faltered, and then, "My phone's dead."
"Beep beep beep…" The line went dead.
Silence lingered in Grayson's ears. A sinking realisation settled in his chest: Jasmine had lied. She never went to the park. She simply didn't want to meet him at the lake. And the phone-dead excuse was just that—an excuse.
Was she… avoiding him?
Grayson's heart clenched. Yesterday, they had seemed so close—Jasmine had even wiped a bit of food from the corner of his mouth while they ate. And today, it felt as if that warmth had been snuffed out without warning.
Why? Why would she do this?
Clutching the bag of meals, he felt a wave of anger and sorrow. But he was determined: "I need to find Jasmine. I have to know what's going on."
He dialled her number again, only to hear the dreaded "The subscriber you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please leave a message after the tone."
Anyway, he wouldn't give up. He would search the entire campus if he had to.
With renewed resolve, Grayson set off in a frenzy, scouring teaching buildings, the library, the hillside paths, the stadium—every corner of Hawthorne University . But with tens of thousands of people on campus, finding one person felt like looking for a needle in a haystack.
Finally, Grayson collapsed in despair on the bleachers of the soccer field, feeling utterly defeated. Then at the very edge of his vision, he spotted something familiar—a wisp of golden hair drifting like a cloud.
There, tucked behind the bleachers—one of the most secluded spots on campus—sat Jasmine. She hadn't seen him; she faced away from him, oblivious.
Grayson's heart thundered. He felt a mix of love, worry, and a spark of anger.
"Jasmine… why are you hiding from me?" he called out, striding up to her. "Do you know I've run all over campus looking for you? My legs are aching, my feet feel swollen—why are you avoiding me? Don't you realise how much this hurts me?"
At the sound of Grayson's voice, Jasmine's shoulders trembled, but she didn't turn around.
"Look at me! Look into my eyes! Turn around—what's wrong? Are you too scared to face me?" he pleaded, exasperation rising.
Seeing that she still wouldn't turn, Grayson's frustration peaked. Reaching her, he gently grasped her shoulders and turned her around.
"Jasmine, you've gone too far. Do you know—"
He stopped mid-sentence. In an instant, his anger vanished.
On Jasmine's beautiful face, her left eye was bruised a deep purple, and smears of dried golden marked her cheek.