Grayson didn't hurry; he followed Jasmine at a steady pace. Eventually, she reached a quiet spot by the small campus lake. A few clusters of bushes screened them from view. Looking past the wide expanse of water, he could just make out vague figures in the distance.
Jasmine faced the lake and sat down. She carefully retrieved the vanilla ice cream she had bought earlier and took a few small, tentative bites.
Grayson paused not far behind her. Watching her, he shook his head. Though she came from a poor family, she didn't seem to have the resilience you'd expect from someone in her circumstances. From the way she handled that single cup of ice cream—worth two hundred dollars for one sitting—he could tell it must have been a significant sum for her. And now she was wasting it on something so small.
After a few cautious licks, Jasmine set the ice cream down on the grass beside her. Then she crossed her arms, hugging her shoulders and lowering her head. Her long hair cascaded forward like a curtain. After a moment, Grayson saw her shoulders trembling.
He stiffened. Was she crying?
Before he could think further, he heard Jasmine address the sky above: "I'm sorry, Mom… I can't keep going anymore… Thank you for everything you've done for me."
Grayson's heart dropped. What was going on? He assumed she must be mentally unstable—after all, she hadn't said a word when those three girls bullied her back at the Häagen-Dazs shop. Now she was talking to the sky. Mixed with that odd behavior—spending her poverty grant on an expensive dessert—he couldn't fathom any other reason than a nervous breakdown.
Suppressing a sigh, he thought, "What a shame—she's such a pretty girl, and yet she's clearly in pain." He decided to leave her be. But as he turned away, Jasmine suddenly rose and began walking straight into the lake.
At first, Grayson thought she was just unpredictable—but then he saw how she continued deeper and deeper, until the water nearly reached her chin. Her pace never slowed as she made her way toward the lake's center. Alarm welled up inside him. No… was she going to drown herself?
There was no one else around in that secluded spot. Realizing time was short, Grayson dashed forward, plunged into the water, and fought his way to where Jasmine stood.
"Let me go! Let me go!" she cried, struggling to push him away while continuing to wade deeper.
Grayson ignored her protests. He wrapped his arms around her and gritted his teeth through the thrashing to drag her back to the shore.
Once they were both on dry ground, Jasmine glared at him fiercely. "Why'd you save me? Why won't you let me die?" Her eyes burned with anger and accusation.
Grayson stared, amazed at how even her fury seemed beautiful. Water dripped from her soaked hair and eyelashes, glistening on her cheeks alongside tear-streaked trails—she looked like a blossom drenched in spring rain. Her eyes, already tinged with sorrow, retained a quiet, poetic grace. Even though she glared at him, she seemed more stubborn than hateful.
But when he heard her words, something inside him snapped.
"Yeah, why did I save you? Why didn't I just let you die?" he shot back, his voice trembling with restrained rage—not because she accused him, but because of her reckless behavior. "Don't you have parents? Have you thought about how they'd feel if you killed yourself? Have you ever considered their suffering?"
"You parents worked so hard to raise you, pay for your tuition—and you'd leave them without a single word of thanks? Do you think you owe them nothing?"
He paused for a breath and continued, "And look at yourself—always chasing after indulgences and vanity. Your family isn't wealthy, right? So why did you spend your meager money on Häagen-Dazs? Do they know you're so wasteful? Have you considered how hard your parents work to earn every penny?"
He unleashed all the thoughts that had been churning in his mind. He expected Jasmine to become even angrier, perhaps lash out at him. Instead, her eyes reddened, and tears forced a way through the dam of her composure.
"You think you know my parents?" she cried, clutching her shoulders as she began to sob harder. "How dare you speak of them!"
Jasmine finally raised her head, face streaked with tears and water, and for the first time she looked truly vulnerable. Her thin frame shook as she let loose a painful wail: "What's wrong with me eating Häagen-Dazs once? I'm going to die anyway—before I go, why can't I eat that taste just once?"
Her grief poured out in shaky breaths: "Why does everyone have to judge me? Kayla and her friends called me vain. The students watching mocked me for being indulgent, and now you say I'm a pleasure-seeker. But I'm not that kind of person! Every day, I eat the cheapest meal in the cafeteria. Sometimes I only eat a piece of bread with peanut butter. I'm too ashamed to eat like that in front of others, and too afraid to go back to my dorm. So I hide my peanut butter in these bushes, and buy bread every day just so I can come here and eat in private!"
She reached into a tangle of shrubs beside her and produced a half-empty jar of peanut butter. "I'm not who you think. I've never bought nice clothes or cosmetics. I don't have stuffed animals or bags or jewelry. The things other girls love—I've never had any of them. I've never had a single treat in my life…."
Her voice cracked, but she continued: "But I'm still a girl. I like these things, and I'm just so hungry for a taste of something good. Today, I thought, I'm about to die—I'll eat Häagen-Dazs one time, just to know what it's like. That way, I won't have any regrets. But is that so wrong? Why does everyone judge me? Why do they blame me…."
With that, she broke down completely, sobbing as if her entire world was collapsing. Her frail body shook like a fragile scrap of paper in the wind, as though one more gust could tear her away from life.
Grayson was stunned. This girl was so pitiful, so heartbreakingly forlorn. Because she felt the world was ending, she wanted just one taste of the thing she'd always dreamed about. Meanwhile, those wealthy students could eat it whenever they liked.
His mind flashed back to earlier, in front of the Häagen-Dazs shop: by then, Jasmine had already been thinking about ending her life, yet she still endured those girls' cruelty and the judgmental glares of onlookers. She faced what she perceived as "righteous" condemnation from strangers. How much more painful must that be?
Grayson felt waves of guilt. He'd been too hasty to judge her as a spoiled girl. Now he saw she'd only wanted to taste one small moment of sweetness before giving up on everything.
He knelt beside her on the grass, steeling himself. "I'm sorry," he whispered. He pulled out a tissue and offered it to her. "But why would you kill yourself? Your mother would be devastated. What about her feelings?"
"I never had a father," Jasmine murmured between sobs—her voice tinny, as if it came from a distant place. "Only my mother."
Despite her tears, Grayson recognized the flicker of relief that her misery was finally understood. A single parent—no wonder she felt such pressure to succeed. He gently urged, "But please—think how your mother would feel. If you die, she'll be crushed."
Jasmine's tears surged anew, glittering as they raced down her cheeks. "I know, I know…if I die, she'll be so sad, so sad…" Her sorrow deepened until it overflowed like a tidal wave. "But I can't help it. There's only one way out for me: if I die, everything will be over. Otherwise, she'll be left with nothing. I already told her I was sorry before I jumped into the lake. 'Mom, your daughter was unfilial—couldn't support you—and now I'm gone. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry….'"
Jasmine's despair darkened her features. More tears fell in an unending stream.
Grayson remembered how, before she entered the water, Jasmine had spoken to the sky. He'd thought her words strange because she was mentally ill. He never imagined they were her final goodbye to her mother.
His heart ached with remorse. "There's no problem in this world you can't overcome," he said softly. "Please tell me what's troubling you. If you share it, maybe I can help." He meant it—unlike the polite duty he'd felt when helping Lila, now his desire to help soared from genuine concern and a fierce sense of responsibility.
Jasmine looked at him, tears still streaming. Through them, she saw something different in his eyes—a sincerity she'd never encountered among Kayla's circle of snobs. In that moment, she felt a spark of warmth. Yet when she glanced at his worn clothes, she realized he was just another ordinary, penniless student like herself. The obstacles she faced seemed so gargantuan that even his kindness might be futile. And now, any rash attempts to help could put him in danger.
"You can't help me," she whispered, pulling her arms tighter around herself.
Grayson crouched before her. "Please, just believe me. You can tell me anything." He offered his hand gently, his eyes unwavering. "I promise I won't judge you."
Since Jasmine had grown used to scorn, she hesitated. But Grayson's voice—and the quiet strength in his gaze—moved something deep within her. She took a trembling breath. "Thank you," she whispered. Though her voice was barely audible, it was the first sign that she might let someone in.
He nodded. "Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."
For the first time in a long while, the wind rustled through the bushes, carrying with it the promise of a new beginning. As Grayson stayed by her side, Jasmine felt, ever so slightly, that maybe—just maybe—there was a tomorrow worth living for.