The west wing of Westbridge University buzzed with fresh energy.
A group of science freshers walked together across the wide campus road, laughter and loud opinions bouncing off the buildings. They talked about professors, rumors, parties, rankings—everything that mattered to boys who believed the world had just opened its doors to them.
Among them, walking a little behind, was Jasper William.
Sunlight spilled over him unapologetically. Fair skin catching the glow, tall frame relaxed yet alert, lean like youth itself hadn't finished shaping him yet. Light black hair fell carelessly across his forehead, framing eyes that were an unusual shade of blue—mischievous on the surface, but holding emotions no one ever stayed long enough to read.
A small blue diamond stud glittered in his left ear.
Black shirt. Top buttons open. White t-shirt underneath. Black jeans and worn sneakers. He held a thin file in one hand and his phone in the other, voice low and sharp.
"Yes. Yes, I got it done," he said, sarcasm dripping from every word.
A pause.
"No, I don't need advice."
He cut the call without waiting for a response.
From the front, a guy turned around. "Hey—Jasper!"
That was Ethan Brooks—loud, confident, and permanently hungry.
"Where are we eating today?" Ethan asked. "Campus cafeteria or some restaurant outside? And don't forget—it's your treat."
Jasper glanced at him lazily. "When I say it's my treat," he replied, voice flat, "it means I choose. Not you."
Ethan laughed. "Alright, boys—suggestions!"
After a brief chaos of opinions, the decision was made. They'd drop their bags at the dorms and meet at the campus cafeteria for lunch.
Jasper turned toward his dorm without another word.
His mood had shifted—quietly, sharply.
He was hard to understand like that. Never visibly angry. Never loud. But when anger came, it didn't announce itself—it landed as a punch. People learned that about him early.
Mischievous one moment. Cold the next.
He didn't take life seriously. Didn't respect rules. Didn't listen when told what to do. Jasper William lived by impulse—whatever felt right to him, in that exact moment.
Behind him, footsteps caught up.
"Oi, wait up!" Ethan called. "We're coming too."
With Ethan were Will Carter and Harry Collins—his roommates, his constants, his chaos. The four of them had grown up together in Havenport, turning streets into playgrounds and trouble into habit. This city was home. This university was just another arena.
They had dorm rooms on campus—and apartments outside it, whenever they wanted freedom.
They knew Jasper better than anyone.
Jasper dumped his bag onto his bed, barely glancing around the room. Within minutes, he was back outside.
"Wait," Will called. "We're coming with—"
"See you at the cafeteria," Jasper said, already walking away.
He didn't look back.
As he walked, his phone buzzed again.
His mother's name flashed briefly in his mind—her voice from earlier replaying without permission.
Your father thinks business management would be better.
Forensic science has no future.
Think practically for once, Jasper.
He clenched his jaw.
My life. My rules.
He had no interest in business empires or family legacies. He liked truth. Evidence. Forensic science wasn't a rebellion—it was clarity.
He turned onto the road that passed by the girls' dormitory.
And then—
He looked up.
On one of the balconies stood a girl.
She faced the sun without shielding her eyes, letting the light wash over her face like she wasn't afraid of being seen. The glow softened her features, made her look unreal for a second—calm, still, untouched by the noise below.
Something in Jasper slowed.
Just for a moment.
He scoffed internally. Dumb girl. Burning her face in the sun.
The thought was automatic. Defensive. Familiar.
And yet—something about her felt… quiet.
Too quiet.
He looked away before the feeling could form, shoved his hands into his pockets, and continued toward the cafeteria.
He didn't know her name.
He didn't know her story.
But somewhere between sunlight and silence—
Something had already shifted.
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