Jasmine gazed at the young man before her. His eyes were so warm, so kind—radiating a sense of safety that could enchant any woman, a powerful presence that seemed to spring from his very soul. For a moment, Jasmine stood there, stunned: he clearly looked like a poor student, yet possessed such an effortless charm.
Finally she shook her head to clear her thoughts. "All right," she said, resolutely. "Don't ask me any more. Those people I spoke of are influential—they're above my pay grade. Really, I won't tell you, so please stop asking."
"Very well," Grayson said, seeing her determination. He let the matter drop. Besides, Jasmine had just endured so much—her emotions were still raw. He would wait for her to open up in her own time.
"But," he added gently, "even if you won't tell me everything, you must promise me this: never try jumping into a lake again."
"Okay." Jasmine nodded vigorously. "Thinking back on everything just now, I'm terrified myself. Thank you for saving me. My name is Jasmine Ramirez, from the Public Affairs Management School."
"I'm Grayson Cole, from the School of Management."
"By the way—here, have some of this!" Jasmine suddenly picked up the Häagen‑Dazs cup she'd abandoned on the grass earlier. She held it out to Grayson with both hands.
"Oh—this is too extravagant." Grayson didn't refuse. He knew Jasmine had no way to repay him. If he ate the ice cream, perhaps it would ease her conscience.
He took one bite, then handed it back to her. "You should eat some too."
At first Jasmine hesitated, but Grayson insisted. She took the cup back and, without flinching at the spot he'd bitten, darted out a small, shy lick.
"Here—have more." She offered it back to him again.
"Let's share." Grayson said, breaking off two thin twigs from a nearby shrub and handing one to Jasmine.
Her cheeks flushed as she accepted it. "Come closer," Grayson invited, holding the cup between them.
And so, on the sunny grass beside the university lake, Grayson and Jasmine sat side by side and finished that cup of vanilla ice cream together. Years later, whenever they recalled that scene, their hearts would still stir with the memory.
"Tomorrow at noon, could I see you here again?" Grayson asked, gazing at Jasmine.
In that moment, she seemed a natural beauty. Her lips were delicate as cicada wings—slim and graceful. Her eyes, deep with stories, gleamed like pools of moonlight. Her high nose lent her an air of nobility. Yet in her brow and expression there lay a note of humility—a touch of self‑doubt.
"All right," Jasmine whispered, her cheeks glowing. Her heart fluttered wildly. Life had treated her harshly; she lived surrounded by hostility, like a timid rabbit in a perilous meadow. But Grayson made her feel something she'd never known before. For a moment, she felt tears well up.
---
The next day at noon, Grayson came to the lake and indeed found Jasmine waiting in the same spot. Hearing footsteps, she turned quickly and gave him a small smile.
"For you!" She held out a plastic container with both hands.
Inside were neatly cut fruits—apple, pear, melon, papaya, dragon fruit—arranged tidily. Clearly, she'd taken great care.
"They look beautiful. But fruit isn't cheap—next time, don't spend so much on me." From their conversations, Grayson knew Jasmine always scrimped on food. Though these fruits were ordinary and affordable for most students, for her they were a luxury.
"It wasn't expensive," Jasmine said. "I bought half‑spoiled fruit from the street vendor at a big discount. But don't worry: I cut away all the bad parts and washed them thoroughly. Go ahead—eat."
"Thank you." Grayson was unexpectedly moved—he could picture Jasmine in her dorm room, diligently washing and cutting the fruit.
"Let's eat together." he offered.
"No—I've already eaten. You go ahead; it's for your nutrition." Jasmine insisted. In her mind, Grayson was merely a fellow poor student living on the edge of subsistence.
But as soon as she said that, her stomach rumbled audibly. Her face turned scarlet.
Grayson regretted not bringing some cafeteria food to share. Although the discounted fruit cost little, buying it must have eaten up all her meal money. She'd gone hungry so he could have a treat.
From then on, Grayson had something to look forward to: every noon, he met Jasmine by the lake, always bringing takeaway from the cafeteria to share. He never chose anything extravagant—just simple, nourishing dishes. He didn't want to reveal his background too quickly; he preferred to draw near as an equal.
"Hey, Grayson—why are you always rushing out at noon? Got a new flame to meet?"
"You seem in high spirits lately—smiling again! Forget that gold‑digging Sienna!"
"Let's get Jace and Indie together sometime for a fun outing!"
His roommates, Miles and Tyler, teased him as he headed out. Grayson merely grinned and made his way to the dining hall.
"Hello—I'd like two Grilled Chicken with Rice, two Cheeseburger Combos, two Mixed Fruit Cups, and two Corn Chowders—packaged to go, please," he ordered at the window.
Armed with a stack of takeout boxes, he hurried back to the lake—arriving early. But Jasmine wasn't there yet. He waited, picturing the delight on her face when she saw the spread.
Time passed, and still no Jasmine. Checking his watch, Grayson realized she was late—unusual. He called her.
"Jasmine, I'm at the lake—where are you?" he asked, keeping the food surprise to himself.
"Oh, Grayson, I'm so sorry—I can't make it today." Her voice trembled with apology.
"What happened?"
"My class is doing a promotional event at the West Campus Youth Garden, and the professor insists everyone participate. I'm really sorry."
Damn. Grayson felt deflated. The West Campus was nearly a kilometer away—she really couldn't get there in time. He stared at the uneaten food on the grass and lost his appetite—until an idea struck. He would take the meal to her.
Seizing the containers, he sprinted across campus—arriving at the West Campus, breaths heaving. He needed a bike. He sought the Youth Garden, only to find no sign of any class activity. Where was she?
Anxious, he called again. "Jasmine, where are you?"
"At the garden," she replied.
"I'm here, but I don't see you or anyone doing promotions."
"Oh!" Jasmine's voice quivered. "We've already finished and come back."
"Then where are you now? I'll come find you."
"My…my phone's dead," she stammered—and the line went dead.
Grayson froze. She was avoiding him. She hadn't gone to the lake—or a promotion. She'd invented excuses to dodge him. Furious and hurt, Grayson resolved to find her. He roamed the entire campus—lecture halls, lakeside paths, groves, hillocks, library, stadium—every corner. Yet in a sprawling campus of tens of thousands, finding one person was a daunting task.
Finally, in despair, he slumped on the bleachers at the football field. Glancing up, he caught sight of a familiar cloud of dark hair. Jasmine sat behind the stands—in one of the most secluded campus corners—her back to him.
Grayson's heart raced. A surge of hurt and anger coursed through him. "Jasmine—why are you hiding from me?" he called, striding toward her. "Do you know I searched the whole school for you? My legs are exhausted, my feet swollen! Why dodge me like this? It's breaking my heart!"
Startled, Jasmine's shoulders trembled—but she still didn't turn around.
He pressed forward. "Look at me—look into my eyes! Why won't you face me?"
When she remained still, Grayson reached her and gently straightened her posture. "Jasmine, this is too much. You know—"
He stopped mid‑sentence. In that instant, his anger drained away. Jasmine's beautiful face bore the signs of assault: a purplish bruise at her left temple and faint streaks of blood on her cheek.
The sight took Grayson's breath away.