But Jonathan had clearly underestimated Clarisse.
Even though his words had deeply hurt her, she didn't cry. She might look delicate and gentle on the outside, but she wasn't the kind of girl who broke into tears easily. What she felt wasn't just heartbreak—it was the overwhelming sense of humiliation. Her love hadn't even had the chance to blossom, yet it had been mercilessly crushed before it began.
Treat him like a brother?
She let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. She wanted to think of him as just a brother, the way she did with Fadrique. It would've been so much easier if their relationship had been that simple.
But… could she really?
And now that he had made things so clear, what else could she do but try to treat him like a brother?
Clarisse wandered aimlessly through the campus, her steps listless. Just then, she ran into Farah and her boyfriend, Bruno.
Farah was the lively and charming daughter of Miami's most notorious gambling kingpin. Bruno, on the other hand, was a calm and composed top student from LA, currently majoring in physics. They were the perfect couple—not just in terms of background, but in personality and looks too.
Clarisse and Farah were both originally from Los Angeles. Their families had moved to Miami around the same time, so they'd grown close. Both girls spoke fluent English and Thai, and despite Farah's elite status, she was incredibly down-to-earth—a big part of why Clarisse had been able to befriend her in the first place.
Farah rushed over the moment she saw Clarisse's expression.
"Clarisse, what's wrong? You look so out of it this early in the morning!"
Clarisse shook her head weakly. "I'm fine…"
But Farah was no fool. After all, just the night before, Clarisse had confided in her about her feelings for Jonathan. Seeing her like this now, Farah instantly connected the dots.
She turned to Bruno and said, "Bruno, I'm gonna stay with Clarisse for a bit. You head to class first—I'll catch up later!"
Bruno gave her a fond, doting look before walking away. Watching the two of them interact so sweetly, Clarisse couldn't help but feel a sting in her heart. Her eyes prickled with unshed tears.
Farah took her hand and led her to a quiet bench tucked away in a secluded part of campus. Clarisse took off her oversized glasses, revealing a pair of swollen, red-rimmed eyes.
"He doesn't like me, Farah," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "He said he already has someone he likes back home…"
Farah's expression turned stormy.
"What?! Our sweet, adorable, kind-hearted Clarisse, and he doesn't like you? That Jonathan guy must have something seriously wrong with his brain!"
Clarisse let out a weak protest. "Hey… Farah, don't say that about him. You can't force love…"
Farah rolled her eyes so hard it was almost audible.
"He basically stomped all over your heart and you're still defending him? Girl, you're too soft for your own good!"
Clarisse's face scrunched up in helpless sorrow, like a scolded puppy. Farah suddenly grinned and leaned in close with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
"How about this—why don't you go after him? Didn't you say he's not currently with that girl? Then what are you waiting for? Strike while the iron's hot and snatch him before she comes back!"
"W-What?" Clarisse blinked, utterly stunned.
Clarisse nearly jumped out of her skin at Farah's suggestion.
"N-No way!" She frantically waved her hands. "If he doesn't like me, then that's that. As long as he's happy… I'll just wish him well."
Chase after him? That wasn't her style. All she wanted was to quietly watch over him from a distance, to care for him in her own silent way. She wasn't one of those girls who clung on and made a scene.
Farah clicked her tongue in exasperation.
"Look at you! Why are you acting like this is some life-or-death matter? So what if you go after him? If you like someone, you should fight for them!"
Clarisse shook her head so hard it looked like it might fall off, her refusal loud and clear.
Farah sighed dramatically, clearly defeated.
"Ugh, fine, I give up. Let's talk about something else." She suddenly leaned in closer, lowering her voice as if about to share a secret. "Hey, I've got a real proposal for you—why don't you move out of the dorms and live off-campus with me?"
Clarisse blinked in surprise.
Before she could answer, a memory surfaced in her mind.
He was calm, she was lively. They should've been a perfect match.
But in the end, her family had disapproved. And because of that, he had been forced to end things—coldly, decisively. He'd even sworn never to set foot in Miami again.
Would anyone be interested in that kind of tragic love story? she wondered with a bitter laugh. These days, it seems like people get tired of old flames way too easily.
"Huh? Why move out?" Clarisse blinked in confusion. "Isn't the dorm perfectly fine?"
Farah scooted closer, her usually bold demeanor replaced by a rare touch of bashfulness.
"Well, you do know Bruno and I are madly in love… And, um, it's kind of hard to… y'know, do things while living in the dorm. We can't exactly go to a hotel every time, right?"
Clarisse's face turned bright red. "Farah! Y-you…!"
Farah clung to her arm, whining like a spoiled kitten.
"Clarisse~ you're the best! Just help me this once, okay? If my parents ever find out I'm living with a guy, they'll literally break my legs. But if I say I'm rooming with you? They'll totally believe it and leave me alone!"
Clarisse frowned, clearly troubled. "That's lying to your parents… I don't feel right about it. Just stay in the dorm, okay? Besides, you and Bruno aren't even married yet. You really shouldn't—"
Before she could finish, Farah burst out laughing.
"Pfft—Clarisse! Come on! People in love have sex all the time! What's marriage got to do with it?"
Clarisse's brows furrowed. She and Farah were close, but their views on relationships were worlds apart. Clarisse was conservative. Farah was… very much not. They'd never see eye to eye on this.
Still, Farah wasn't giving up.
"Clarisse~ pretty please~ Just think about it! A cozy little place just for us. You can cook every day—don't you lovecooking?"
Clarisse hesitated. She tried to hold her ground… but eventually sighed in defeat.
"Agh… fine. I give up. I can't say no to you, can I?"
Farah squealed and hugged her tight. "Clarisse, I freaking LOVE you!"
"Yeah yeah, whatever…" Clarisse waved her off, pretending to be annoyed.
Farah practically danced away, grinning from ear to ear.
"Then it's settled! You don't have to worry about a single thing—Bruno and I will find the place and take care of moving. You just show up with your cute self and move in, okay?"
"Got it, got it. Now go find your Bruno already."
Clarisse watched her leave with a helpless smile, then turned back toward the dorms. She usually stayed at school during the week and only went home on weekends.
She had made up her mind—she would return to the simplest, most distant version of herself when it came to him. No more fantasies. No more hoping.
But what she didn't know… was that some things could never be controlled.
Saturday Morning.
Clarisse had just stepped out of the car in front of her house when another vehicle pulled up.
It was Cesar Rollin Balas's car. The doors opened, and out stepped Cesar, Fadrique… and Jonathan.
Her eyes immediately locked on Jonathan's white shirt, soaked in crimson.
She froze. Her heart stopped.
"Jonathan! You're hurt?!"
Before she could rush over, Cesar gave a dry cough and corrected her.
"Clarisse. The one who's hurt is Fadrique. Jonathan just got blood all over himself helping with the bandaging."
Clarisse blinked, startled. She turned quickly—and sure enough, Fadrique's arm was wrapped in gauze, a faint stain of blood seeping through.
"Fadrique… Are you okay?" she asked softly, reaching out.
But Fadrique's face was dark. He shook off her hand and stormed past her without a word.
Clarisse stood frozen, biting her lip in frustration. Watching his back disappear, she knew she'd hurt him.
But what could she do?
She didn't mean to ignore him. Of course she cared if he was hurt. But… her eyes couldn't help but follow only one man.
The man she loved too deeply.