The sun was just beginning to settle over the horizon, casting an amber hue over Elmridge University. Students, some fresh-faced and eager, others seasoned and lethargic, moved in waves across the grand campus. The rustling trees whispered secrets of the past, the stone walls stood proudly, and tucked between the ivy-covered buildings, a story began—quiet, unnoticed.
JakeRolister moved like a shadow through the courtyard. His dark hoodie was pulled over his head, and the weight of his satchel pulled at his shoulder. His sharp features and lean frame made him impossible not to notice, but somehow, he still blended in. A ghost among the living.
He wasn't popular in the usual way—he didn't chase people or charm them. He didn't need to. Jake's name preceded him. The boy genius of the medical stream. The youngest to crack complex anatomy modules. Top of his class. He had a way with science that professors envied. Some even whispered he'd be working in surgeries by the time others were still figuring out which way a stethoscope faced.
But Jake wasn't here for recognition. He was here because he had nowhere else to go.
At night, he worked at Grind Theory, a café just outside campus—a modest place that smelled of roasted beans and cinnamon. It paid just enough to keep him fed and under a roof. There were no luxury cars, no safety nets. Just grit, silence, and memory.
The memory of his parents—both gone in what the world called a "tragic worksite incident." But Jake remembered the voices behind closed doors, the names mentioned in hushed arguments, the scent of betrayal in the air long before the explosion.
He didn't speak of it. Not yet.
That same evening, a sleek black car pulled up to the main gate of Elmridge. The moment the driver opened the back door, a dozen heads turned. Cameras clicked. The dean himself stood waiting with a nervous smile.
She stepped out with grace, the kind that couldn't be taught. Tall, poised, wrapped in silk and confidence, Emma Valeria took her first step onto the university grounds.
The Valeria name was one every business magazine bowed to. Her father owned nearly a third of the companies that funded Elmridge, and her mother was a board director feared more than admired. Emma, their only daughter, had lived her whole life under scrutiny, behind security gates and controlled smiles.
But this—this was her decision. Elmridge was not a political move. Not for her. She was here because of something she saw on a university forum late one night.
A photograph.
Blurry, taken from behind a glass window.
A boy in a café apron, laughing.
She didn't know his name. But the picture haunted her.
"Do you even know what he looks like?" her best friend, Lila, teased as they settled into their dorm suite later that night.
Emma lay back on the bed, arms spread wide. "Not really. Just... I don't know. His eyes. Even in that blur, they were unforgettable."
Lila raised a brow. "This is either a cute college crush or the beginning of a Netflix crime doc."
Emma giggled. "I'll let you know which soon."
The next morning was a parade.
The dean personally introduced Emma to the student body at the welcome assembly. Professors gave curt nods. Some students clapped out of respect. Others watched with a blend of admiration and suspicion. It wasn't every day the richest girl in the country walked into their hallways.
Jake sat in the back row, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
"Miss Valeria, our newest addition to the biology stream," the dean announced. "We're honored."
Emma gave a polite smile, her gaze sweeping the crowd—and then she saw him.
Her breath caught.
There he was. The boy from the forum photo. No mistaking those eyes. She felt it immediately, the same strange flutter in her chest.
But his eyes, when they met hers, were cold. A wall of disinterest.
Her first real encounter with him happened in the worst possible way.
She was late to chemistry lab. Flustered and rushing, she grabbed the first beaker she saw and bumped straight into someone's table. The glass tipped, spilling liquid dangerously close to someone's notes.
"Watch it!" Jake snapped, jerking his notebook away just in time.
Emma froze. "Oh no—I'm so sorry, I didn't see—"
Jake didn't even look at her. "Maybe read the labels next time before playing with acid."
There was a tense silence. The other students watched.
Emma, cheeks flushed, bit her lip—but then smiled softly. "Well... at least now I know who not to bump into next time."
He walked away without another word.
Things didn't improve from there.
Two days later, they collided in the hallway. Literally.
Emma was rushing with her coffee when Jake turned a corner too fast. The coffee flew, staining both their shirts.
"Are you serious?" he growled, stepping back.
Emma's heart sank. "Crap—oh my God, I'm so sorry—"
Jake glared. "You should hire someone to walk for you. Might save time cleaning up after yourself."
Despite the irritation in his voice, Emma gave him a cheeky grin. "What if I hired you? You seem fast on your feet."
For a second, just a second, Jake looked like he was about to smile. But it vanished.
"I'm not for hire," he muttered, and stalked off.
Later that night, walking back from dinner with Lila, Emma saw the glow of a small café tucked at the corner of the street.
"Coffee?" Lila asked.
Emma was already walking toward the door.
The smell hit her first—warm, earthy, and calming. She stepped in... and froze.
Jake stood behind the counter, wearing a navy apron, wiping down the espresso machine. His sleeves were rolled up, veins on his arms visible as he worked swiftly, professionally.
He didn't notice her until she walked right up to the counter.
"A cappuccino, please," she said.
He looked up. Recognition flickered in his eyes.
"Miss Valeria," he said, voice flat. "Didn't think someone like you would wander this far from her tower."
She leaned against the counter, unfazed. "Maybe I'm just chasing good coffee."
He began the brew without another word.
"Jake, right?"
He didn't respond.
"I like your name," she continued. "It's simple."
Jake placed the cup in front of her. "It's bitter. Like reality."
Emma lifted it to her lips, took a long sip, and smiled. "Still better than most things I've tasted."
He blinked. For a second, the coldness in his eyes softened.
She turned and walked out, coffee in hand.
From the corner booth, Rhea Carson watched with clenched fists.
End of Part 1!