FLASHBACK (Before the basketball incident)
The finance lab was a pressure cooker of clicking mechanical keyboards and the low, constant hum of air conditioning units that were clearly losing the battle against the Veyra heat. Most of the second-year students were busy on their laptops, the ones with the high-refresh-rate monitors.
Jake sat at the very back, hunched over a workstation with a flickering screen and a CPU fan that rattled like a bucket of nails. He didn't have a laptop of his own yet so he was using the lab's old computer.
Mason was leaning back in his chair three rows down, his expensive watch catching the overhead fluorescent light as he gestured wildly at his screen. He was currently the center of a small, admiring circle, his face flushed with the kind of high that only comes from a winning streak. On his monitor, a volatile gold pair was ripping upward, green candles stacking one on top of another in a vertical climb that looked like easy money.
"It's all about the conviction, fellas," Mason announced, his voice carrying easily across the room. "I saw the rejection at the half-hour mark and just loaded the boat. That's five hundred VM in profit in under ten minutes. Some people spend all day staring at books, but you either have the instinct for the tape or you don't."
Jake didn't want to look, but his left eye began to pulse with a sharp, insistent heat. He suddenly got a strong feeling that the chart Mason was so proud of was about to reverse and trap retail traders. He couldn't explain the feeling but he thought the wise move was to warn Mason.
"You should probably hit the exit button, Mason," Jake said, his voice cutting through the laughter of the group. He didn't say it to be a hero; he said it because the sheer stupidity of the trade was starting to give him a headache. "That move is hitting a brick wall in about thirty seconds."
The group went quiet, and Mason slowly turned his chair around, his expression shifting from triumph to a sneer. He looked at Jake's frayed hoodie, then at the ancient computer that looked like it belonged in a museum. He let out a short, mocking bark of a laugh that made his friends join in instantly.
"The charity case has an opinion," Mason said, looking back at his crew with a grin. "Is that what they're teaching in the remedial classes now? Look at the momentum, kid. This thing is going to the ceiling. Maybe if you spent more time looking at the market and less time looking for bus fare, you'd understand how real money works."
Jake didn't argue. He just watched the screen as the price ticked up,. For a heartbeat, the price stalled, hovering at the peak of the mountain. Then, without a hint of a warning, a massive red candle slammed down with the force of a falling safe. It didn't just retraced; it collapsed, wiping out Mason's five hundred VM profit and diving straight into his stop-loss in a single, violent second.
Mason's face went from smug to ghostly white as a "Trade Closed: Margin Warning" notification flashed across his screen in bright, mocking red. The silence in the lab was absolute this time, broken only by the sound of Jake's rattling CPU fan. Mason stared at the screen, his hands trembling slightly as he realized he'd just lost a significant chunk of his account in front of the very people he'd been trying to impress.
"The system lagged," Mason hissed, slamming his palm against the desk as he stood up. He turned a murderous glare toward the back of the room, his embarrassment quickly curdling into a sharp, focused rage. He didn't see a helpful warning; he saw a calculated dig from a guy he considered beneath him. In his mind, Jake hadn't predicted the move—he had waited for the perfect moment to humiliate him in public.
"You think you're clever, don't you?" Mason said, his voice low and dangerous as he stepped toward Jake's desk. "You've been sitting back there all semester acting like you're better than everyone else. Don't think for a second that catching one lucky reversal makes you a trader. Stay in your lane, Jake. You won't get a second chance to take a shot at me."
Jake didn't look up, his fingers already back on his keyboard as he prepared for his own session. He could feel Mason's eyes burning into the back of his neck, but he didn't care about the threat. He had five million reasons to keep his head down, and Mason was just a distraction he couldn't afford.
Mason lingered for a second longer, his jaw set in a hard line, before he turned and stormed out of the lab, his followers trailing behind him like a funeral procession. The war had started over a few pips, and Jake knew that Mason wasn't the type to forget a wound to his ego.
END OFF FLASHBACK
-----------------
By the time Jake reached campus, the morning had warmed, students moved in clusters across the courtyard, their voices blending into the usual restless hum of university life. Coffee cups in hand, backpacks hanging loose from shoulders, half-finished conversations spilling from one building to the next—the rhythm of the place remained exactly what it had always been.
For most people, nothing had changed.
Jake walked through it with his hands in his pockets and his expression neutral. The finance building stood ahead in polished glass and concrete, reflecting the sunlight in hard, clean angles.
He spotted Catharine before she noticed him.
She was standing near the front steps, speaking to another student. There was nothing dramatic about the sight of her, but Jake noticed the details anyway. The easy way she held herself. The natural composure.
The way a light breeze shifted a few strands of hair over her shoulder while she listened. Then she laughed softly at something the other girl said, and even from a distance, he heard it.
A quiet sound. Still enough to pull his attention for a second longer than it should have.
Her friend said something to her, then headed off toward the far side of the courtyard. Catharine turned toward the entrance—and saw him. A flicker of surprise crossed her face before it softened into a smile. "Morning, Jake."
"Morning." He kept his tone calm. Not distant enough to be rude, but measured enough to keep the line where he wanted it. 'If I was to be cold to her, would her sudden interest in me fade? Would that satisfy Mason and his crew? But why I'm I even concerned about other people though?'
She fell into step beside him as they headed inside. "You're early," she said.
"So are you."
"I had a tutorial meeting," she replied. Then, after a short pause, she glanced at him again. "Is everything ok?"
Jake turned slightly. "Yeah why?"
Her smile shifted, becoming more thoughtful. "You sound a bit off today. There's not that usual warmth today."
He looked ahead again. "Maybe I didn't sleep well." It was a simple answer, but not an untrue one.
For a few seconds they walked in silence through the hallway, their footsteps blending with the movement of students passing around them. Catharine seemed to hesitate, as if she were deciding whether to leave the conversation where it was.
"There's a study group for the final exams, you interested in joining?" she said at last.
"I have things to handle so I won't have the time."
"Oh." She nodded once, but the response was just a little too quiet to be casual.
Jake noticed the faint disappointment she tried to smooth over. Over the past week, she had been making more effort to be around him. Sitting a little closer when there was space to do so. Letting conversations linger instead of ending them at the obvious point. Finding reasons, however small, to approach him first.
Most people wouldn't have thought much of it. Jake did. And he had been keeping his distance on purpose. Especially now that he knew the lengths Mason was willing to go.
He remembered the basketball court too clearly, the blood, the chain of events that had followed from one careless moment, the hospital bed, the cost and the complications.
He had no interest in stepping back into that kind of mess, especially now. They reached the lecture hall doors. Catharine slowed a little, then asked, "Are you free after class?"
Her tone was casual, but not so casual that the meaning escaped him.
She wasn't asking for anything dramatic. Not a declaration. Not even necessarily a date. Just time. Time that would mean something if he gave it.
Jake chose his answer with care. "I've got something to take care of." Catharine held his gaze for a second, then nodded slowly. "Okay."
They stepped into the lecture hall and moved toward different rows. Jake didn't look back. But he felt the distance settle between them all the same.
---
By midday, the campus café was crowded enough that every table seemed to hold some combination of laptops, half-finished meals, and students pretending not to be stressed.
Jake sat across from Alex near the window, listening with half an ear while his friend complained about coursework with the kind of dramatic commitment only Alex could sustain for several minutes straight.
"I'm serious," Alex said, stabbing his fork into a piece of chicken as if the food had personally wronged him. "Three case studies, two presentations, and a quiz in one week. That's not education. That's targeted violence."
Jake took a sip of his drink. "You really need to learn time management." Alex stared at him. "Now would you look at that." Jake raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"You are only saying that because your life is less hectic these days," Alex said. "You used to complain with me. Now you sound like a middle-aged lecturer who owns a planner."
Jake gave the smallest shrug. Alex leaned forward, studying him more carefully now. "Seriously though, this is too much work. It's like they tryna make me drop out."
"That would have been believable if your grades weren't similar to mine."
"That's just my intelligence," Alex said with pride. "I would have long dropped out otherwise."
Jake didn't respond. He just smiled and shook his head.
Across the café, near the counter, Mason stood with two other students. Crisp shirt. Expensive watch. Effortless posture shaped by a life that had never required him to question whether he belonged anywhere. At some point his eyes shifted toward Jake's table.
Their gazes met briefly. Then Mason looked away.
The moment lasted barely a second, but it carried enough to leave something behind. Alex noticed it too. He lowered his voice. "Be careful with that guy." Jake turned back to his drink. "Why?"
"Because he doesn't like losing attention," Alex said. "And right now, whether you want it or not, you've got some of it. Especially from Cath."
"There's nothing to lose," Jake said. Alex let out a soft snort. "Try explaining that to him." Jake said nothing.
He didn't need Alex to explain Mason. He had already understood enough.
---
The next day, Jake woke before his alarm, not because he was restless, but because his mind had already started moving.
Not toward dreams or worries. Toward numbers.
They had been climbing for weeks now, steadily enough that even he had stopped treating every jump like a miracle. Still, each increase carried weight. Every gain tilted his life a little further away from what it had been, and he was beginning to feel that shift even in ordinary moments. In the quiet of morning. In the way he looked at bills. In the way he thought about time.
He got dressed, washed his face, and stepped into the kitchen while the house was still waking up around him.
His mother was already moving through her routine, practical and efficient as always. His father's voice drifted in from the living room as he checked for his keys and a stack of papers before leaving for work. Aliya came in last, looking like someone personally offended by the existence of mornings. Her hair was only half-done, and she poured cereal into a bowl with enough force to suggest she had a problem with the universe itself.
Jake glanced at her. "You're fighting cornflakes now?"
Aliya lifted her eyes toward him, unimpressed. "I'm fighting life. Cornflakes just happen to be involved."
He nearly smiled, but stopped himself. That had become a problem lately. He had been smiling more without meaning to, and in this house that was dangerous. Aliya noticed everything.
His mother handed him a lunch container. "Take this with you. And don't buy junk today. You've been studying too much and eating nonsense."
"Thanks," Jake said, taking it.
His father looked up while slipping papers into a folder. "And take care of your eye. No straining it."
"I will."
There was a small pause, then his father added, "I still don't understand that hospital payment."
Jake kept his face neutral as he picked up his bag. "Neither do I." His mother sighed softly, caught between relief and unease. "Whoever did it, I hope God blesses them."
Jake nodded once.
Aliya didn't say anything, but he could feel her watching from the corner of the room. 'Sigh, I bet she gonna try and ask for something later on with the reason that she's keeping my secrets.'
She already knew more than he wanted but at least she hadn't said anything. Well, that is for now.
---