# Chapter 2:

Melinda's POV

Maybe he's just nervous, I told myself, maybe he doesn't know how to make our relationship public in front of so many people.

But if he really cared about me, shouldn't he at least...

I forced myself to breathe deeply, pushing down the bitterness rising in my throat. This isn't the time for self-pity, Melinda. I told myself, You need an explanation, not self-doubt in a bathroom.

After leaving the bathroom, I searched for Jason but couldn't find him.

"Hey, have you seen Jason?" I asked a passing guest. They shrugged, merely pointing toward my bedroom.

My heart sank. What was he doing in my bedroom? Maybe he was waiting for me? Maybe he wanted to surprise me?

With drunken hope, I pushed through the noisy crowd toward my room.

However, when I opened the door, the scene before me froze my body instantly.

Jason was on my bed, but he wasn't alone. Caitlin Brown—the platinum-blonde cheerleading captain—was straddling him, her dress pushed up to her waist, her upper body covered only in a half-open red lace bra, her platinum hair swinging behind her. Jason's shirt lay on the floor, his hands gripping her slender waist as they exchanged passionate kisses. His jeans and underwear were pulled down to his knees, while Caitlin's black panties had been discarded on my carpet. The mattress creaked rhythmically with their movements, mixing with their heavy breathing and low moans.

My bedside lamp was on, the dim yellow light clearly illuminating the entire scene: Caitlin's intoxicated expression, Jason's closed eyes, and—making me feel sick—the sweat stains and other marks already left on my carefully selected white sheets. They were on my bed, at my birthday party, shamelessly enjoying each other's bodies.

"What are you doing!" I screamed, my voice echoing in the suddenly quiet room. Somehow, the music outside had been turned off too.

Jason and Caitlin sat up startled on the bed; Jason looked drunker and higher than before, pupils dilated, sweat glistening on his forehead. When he saw me, his expression changed from surprise to panic, and he immediately jumped up, frantically pulling up his pants.

My throat tightened, my chest feeling like it had been punched. This wasn't real. This couldn't be real. But the scene before me...

"Melinda, this isn't what it looks like," Jason stammered, staggering toward me, his voice sounding distant, as if coming from underwater.

I could feel the blood rushing back to my cheeks, but this time not from embarrassment—from pure, burning anger. My hands involuntarily clenched into fists.

Caitlin, meanwhile, remained much calmer. She stood up gracefully, a smug smile playing on her lips, unhurriedly putting on her underwear and straightening her dress, as if what had just happened was merely a casual social event.

Her eyes met mine directly. "Thanks for lending your bed."

She strode out of the room, deliberately bumping my shoulder hard as she passed, her perfume hitting me like a slap in the face.

"I'm sorry, I—" Jason began to explain, his voice carrying fake remorse, his eyes shifting, the smell of alcohol wafting with his words.

"Don't..." I interrupted him, my voice low and firm, without a trace of trembling, "We're done."

Without waiting for his response, I turned and fled the apartment, hearing Olivia and Zoe calling my name behind me, but I didn't stop.

The cold night wind slapped my cheeks, sobering me somewhat. I stood outside the dorm area, not knowing where to go. Returning to the dorm was impossible, at least not tonight. I couldn't face that bed, that room, those people.

I began walking along the campus path, through Pine Ridge University surrounded by ancient forests, fuming and muttering to myself. How dare Jason do this to me? On my bed, at my party, with Caitlin Brown? I didn't even know which hurt more—his betrayal, or that he chose Caitlin?

Without realizing it, I walked off campus to a student bar called "Forest Edge." It was a weekend hangout for Pine Ridge students, but at this late hour, only a few customers remained.

I sat at the bar and ordered a rum and coke. When the bartender poured my drink, I nodded gratefully and sipped it slowly after he walked away.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I checked it to find several missed calls from Olivia and Zoe, along with texts saying "We're worried!" I ignored them and slammed my phone on the bar, sighing deeply.

"Yeah, I hate bad news too," came a male voice beside me, deep and magnetic, like velvet brushing against my eardrums.

I turned, my gaze falling on a stranger a few seats away, instantly feeling a strange dizziness, as if the alcohol had suddenly taken effect again.

He leaned casually against the bar, his muscular arms resting loosely on the smooth wooden surface. He wore what seemed to be a simple dark t-shirt, but the fabric stretched tight across his broad shoulders, outlining unmistakable chest muscles.

I wish I could squeeze them. I secretly pinched my own chest. A guy's chest must be firmer.

My eyes involuntarily traced the contours of his muscles, moving upward, gliding over his well-defined collarbone, lingering on his chiseled jawline, slightly pursed lips, straight nose, finally resting on his eyes.

Those eyes—in the dim bar light, they glittered with an incredible golden-brown radiance, as if flames danced within them. When his gaze connected directly with mine, a strange yet familiar heat spread from my abdomen. What is this feeling?

I suddenly realized I'd been staring at a stranger and immediately felt ashamed. Come on, Melinda, control yourself. You're not the type of girl who gets carried away by muscles and looks.

"I hate everything right now," I tried to appear indifferent, but the tremor in my words betrayed me.

He tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a subtle smile, revealing perfectly aligned white teeth. "What happened?" he asked, his voice softer than before, as if meant only for me.

Suddenly, my brain finally pierced through the fog of emotions and alcohol, sounding an alarm. This wasn't an ordinary stranger. All the pieces clicked together in my mind—his unique confident aura, those unforgettable eyes, and the curious glances from others in the bar. I sat up straight, my heart suddenly racing.

This was Michael Stone.

Pine Ridge University's basketball team captain. The date every girl on campus fantasized about. Jason's direct superior.

Oh my God. A complex mix of emotions swept over me—surprise, embarrassment, confusion, and a hint of anticipation I was reluctant to acknowledge. I'd seen him from afar at basketball games, but never this close. Why tonight? Why on the worst day of my life, when I'd been betrayed by Jason, reeked of vodka, with smudged makeup and messy hair?

My cheeks burned with embarrassment and sudden nervousness, blood pounding in my ears. Should I say something? Leave? Ignore him? But why was he here, in a bar at this hour, showing interest in me—a nobody from medical school?

And he was waiting for my answer, those golden-brown eyes focused intently on me, as if I were the only person in the world worth noticing.