Masuk
Jasmine
“I’ve told you, Jasmine, you’re too fat for that. You look like a potato in that dress,” Mia said with a small laugh, like she was making an innocent observation instead of saying something so insulting.
I looked at her through the mirror.
She was lying across my bed comfortably, scrolling through her phone, barely paying attention to me. Her eyes flicked up once, sweeping over the dress before she smiled to herself.
“That dress is for a slim-thick girl like me. You’ll ruin the beauty of it.”
Something pinched briefly in my chest before I pushed it aside. I turned slowly in front of the mirror and looked at myself again.
The dress wasn’t tight. It fit well around my waist and fell softly over my hips. Jason had picked it for me two weeks ago, after noticing me staring at it in a shop window.
I remembered pretending not to want it and the stupidly proud smile on his face when he still surprised me with it.
I looked good.
Maybe not like Mia would look in it, but I looked good.
I folded my arms loosely and shrugged. “I’m sixty-two kilograms. I’m not fat.”
I smiled and added, “And besides, Jason got it for me. I wouldn’t give it to you.”
Mia finally looked up properly. “I’m your best friend.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
She rolled her eyes dramatically and dropped her phone beside her. “Whatever. You and that nerd of a boyfriend.”
I chuckled softly. I reached behind me and carefully unzipped the dress. “There’s nothing wrong with a man who loves reading,” I muttered. “That’s one of the reasons I fell in love with Jason.”
She snorted. “That’s because you’re a nerd too.”
I smiled as I slipped the dress off and folded it carefully before putting it back into my wardrobe. “Anyway, I’m planning to wear it for our anniversary.”
Mia let out a short laugh. “If your plan is to chase him away… maybe.”
This time, my smile faded. I turned and looked at her.
She wasn’t even looking at me anymore.
I stared for a second before setting my comb down. “You know what, Mia? I think you should head home.”
Her eyes lifted immediately. “Did I say something wrong?”
I almost said yes. But instead, I smiled.
“No. I just want to study for my assessment tomorrow.”
She looked at me for a moment like she didn’t completely believe me. Then she sighed and stood.
“Okay. See you tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
She picked up her bag and left.
The room became quiet after the door closed. I sat on the edge of my bed and stared at my hands.
Mia had always spoken like that. People called it honesty, but sometimes I wondered if honesty was supposed to sting that much.
I sighed and stood.
I really needed to read. But before opening my notes, I reached for my phone and called Jason.
He answered almost immediately.
His face appeared, and I smiled automatically.
“There she is.”
I smiled wider. “Hi, baby.”
Then he looked at me for another second and frowned. “What happened?”
I blinked. “What?”
“You look upset.”
I stared at him. Then I laughed quietly. “It’s nothing.”
His expression stayed the same for a second before he smiled. “You know I know your face.”
Something inside my chest eased.
I smiled and changed the topic.
We talked for almost an hour after that. Mostly nonsense—classes, assignments.
Eventually I asked, “So what are we doing tomorrow?”
His smile brightened even more. “Our anniversary?”
I nodded.
Three years.
Even saying it felt unreal.
Jason leaned back. “We can spend the day together,” he said. “Then dinner.”
I nodded with a smile. “That sounds nice.”
Then his expression shifted slightly. “And maybe…” He paused before continuing more carefully. “We could finally hit third base.”
My smile faded a little. I looked away quickly.
“Jason…”
Immediately, his face changed to disappointment.
Then he forced a smile. “Oh.” He looked away briefly. “I just thought…”
He stopped and shook his head.
“You know what? It’s okay.”
I felt guilty immediately. I had told him before that I wasn’t ready, and he’d never pressured me, never complained.
He always acted understanding.
He let out a tired sigh. “You have your assessment the day after tomorrow anyway.”
I frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”
He laughed. “Tomorrow, go to the library first.”
I groaned, but he ignored me.
“Read for like three hours. Then spend the rest of the day with me.”
I rolled my eyes. “Wow. Very romantic.”
“I’ll have to step out too.”
I looked at him. “Why?”
He sighed. “I need to meet one of my lecturers. Wrong grading,” he said. “So I’ll probably get home after you.”
I wasn’t happy about that. I wanted the whole day.
But I nodded anyway. “Fine.”
His eyes softened. “Love you.”
I smiled immediately. “Love you too.”
After the call ended, I stared at my screen for a while.
Then I smiled to myself. Tomorrow was going to be perfect. I could feel it in my bones. I tried to read after that, but I couldn’t. My mind kept drifting to tomorrow.
The next day, I woke up happy.
For a few seconds, I stayed under my blanket and stared at the ceiling with a smile I couldn’t seem to stop.
People acted like relationships ending after a few months were normal now, but three years meant something to me.
Years of choosing each other, of late-night calls, small fights that never lasted, shared routines, random gifts, patience, and growing into people who knew each other too well.
Jason had been there through all of it.
Before I even got out of bed, I reached for my phone.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment before I started typing:
Happy Anniversary, my love. Three years with you, and somehow I still get excited to talk to you every day. Thank you for being patient with me, for understanding me, and for making me feel safe all this time. I love you so much, and I can’t wait to spend today with you.
I stared at it for a second after sending it and smiled to myself before putting my phone down.
His reply didn’t come immediately, but that didn’t bother me. Instead, I got up and headed to the bathroom.
Usually, my showers were quick, but not today. Today I slowed down.
I scrubbed carefully, took my time, paying attention to details I normally rushed through. The steam warmed my skin while my thoughts kept drifting to later.
I laughed quietly at myself and shook my head.
Jason had no idea. And that made me smile, because it was meant to be a surprise.
He’d never made me feel guilty for waiting.
So maybe that was why today felt right—maybe today was the day I was going to finally give my virginity to the love of my life.
The thought made heat creep into my face immediately.
I turned away from the mirror.
The plan was simple—library first, anniversary later.
At least that was the plan.
By the time I got to the library and settled into my usual seat near the window, I genuinely intended to follow through.
Forty minutes later, I realized I’d read the same paragraph six times.
I sighed and closed my book.
This was hopeless.
A small laugh escaped me. Surely one afternoon wouldn’t ruin my life.
I closed my notes and started putting everything back into my bag. I’d study later.
The mall was busy, but I barely noticed. I went straight to pick up the watch I’d already paid for, then walked into Victoria’s Secret.
I immediately regretted it.
The sales assistant asked if I needed help, and I almost turned around and left. But somehow, ten awkward minutes later, I was carrying a small shopping bag and trying not to make eye contact with anyone.
By the time I got into the cab, my stomach had started doing strange things. I stared out the window while the city moved past.
I wondered what tonight would feel like—wondering if I’d regret changing something that had stayed the same for so long.
Then I immediately shook my head.
I loved him, and Jason loved me.
That should be enough.
Shouldn’t it?
“Ma’am, we’re here.”
I blinked and realized we’d stopped.
I paid and stepped out.
The weather was nice—bright—and for a moment, everything felt strangely perfect.
I smiled to myself as I walked toward his house with the bags in my hand.
I reached into my purse for my spare key.
Then paused.
The door wasn’t locked.
That was unusual.
I frowned and pushed it open. “Jason?” I called, but there was no response.
I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. Maybe he was upstairs.
“Jason?”
Still nothing.
I smiled faintly.
Good. Maybe I’d surprise him.
I started up the stairs, taking my time. I was halfway up when I heard something.
I stopped.
At first, I couldn’t tell what it was—just a faint sound—but with each step, it became clearer.
A creak.
My brows pulled together.
I climbed another step. The same sound again, but then there was something else… like a soft whimper.
A strange feeling crept into my chest. Could it be…?
No. I laughed under my breath.
It was probably the TV. I looked down at the bag in my hand and smiled nervously—maybe he was trying to get distracted before I came over.
That thought should’ve comforted me. Instead, something about the silence around the sound made my stomach tighten.
The sounds were moans and whimpers now. And the closer I got to his room, the less it sounded like television.
The bedroom door was slightly open. I knew what my eyes were seeing through the crack, but I didn’t want to believe it.
My fingers tightened around the shopping bags. My pulse quickened as I reached for the door.
No.
No.
I hesitated.
Then I pushed it open, and my eyes widened in shock.
JasmineThe sound of charcoal scraping across paper was the only thing breaking the silence.The noise seemed louder than it should have been, echoing through the studio while I stood under the overhead lights, trying very hard not to think about the fact that I was standing in the middle of a stranger’s workspace wearing far less than I was comfortable with.My arms were rigid at my sides, my shoulders feeling locked in place. Every muscle in my body had been tense from the moment the session began.He hadn’t said much since positioning me beneath the lights. There were no inappropriate comments, no smug reminders, and no attempts to make me uncomfortable.The only sounds in the room were the scratch of charcoal against paper and the occasional creak of the wooden floor when he shifted his weight.It should have made things easier.Instead, it unsettled me more because nothing about this matched the version of him I’d built inside my head. It would have been easier if he’d acted like
JasmineI stood across the street from a renovated warehouse building in Lower Manhattan, staring at the address on my phone for what had to be the tenth time.This was it.Professor Jackson’s studio.My fingers tightened around the strap of my bag as I looked up at the building again. It was the kind of place that belonged in an architecture magazine—all exposed brick, industrial windows, and black steel framing. Quiet, expensive, and intimidating.Not at all what I’d imagined.Every instinct was telling me to turn around and leave before I made an even bigger mess of my life.For a moment, I seriously considered it.I could walk away right now. Go back to campus. Pretend this arrangement had never happened and hope Professor Jackson eventually lost interest.The thought lasted all of three seconds, then a laugh slipped from my lips as reality settled heavily in my chest.He wasn’t going to lose interest. And I couldn’t afford to take that risk.One rumor was all it would take—one ac
JasmineI scoffed.Of course.“A proposition?” I repeated coldly. “You’re a professor. If this gets out, you could lose your job too.”His expression barely changed.“True.”He stood slowly from his chair, the movement alone shifting the air between us.“But I can get another position elsewhere,” he said calmly. “I’m a professor, Miss Buston.”He stopped a few feet away, his gaze dropping briefly to the scholarship badge attached to my bag.“But you?” he continued quietly. “You’re a scholarship student from a poor background. Lose that, and then what happens?”Every word landed precisely where it hurt most. My jaw tightened instantly, humiliation burning inside me because I knew he was right—he knew, and I hated him for it.“What do you want?” I asked. “I’m guessing you want something in return.”He nodded stiffly before closing the distance between us.“I want you to model for me, for a private art series,” he said, his gaze locked with mine. “Nude.”My entire body went rigid.“What
JasmineSomething about Professor Jackson had been bothering me for the entire lecture.It wasn’t just that he was attractive. That much was obvious.It was the strange sense of familiarity that kept tugging at me whenever he spoke.Every time his voice rolled through the lecture hall, something in the back of my mind stirred, as if I were reaching for a memory that refused to come into focus.It was ridiculous.I had never met this man before—I was sure of it.A face like his wasn’t forgettable. Still, whenever his gaze swept across the room, my pulse would trip over itself before settling again.By the time class ended, I had convinced myself it was nothing more than a coincidence.Then he looked directly at me.“Miss Buston.”My head snapped up. The hall was already beginning to empty.“Yes, Professor?”His expression remained unreadable.“To my office, please.”My stomach dropped.Around me, students continued filing toward the exits. Ari shot me a sympathetic look that immediatel
JasmineThe pounding in my head woke me before my alarm did.For several seconds, I lay perfectly still, my eyes closed against the sunlight filtering through the curtains. The brightness felt cruel, pressing insistently against my eyelids while a dull ache pulsed behind them.Every part of me felt heavy, as if someone had replaced my bones with lead during the night.A low groan escaped me.Something wasn’t right.The mattress beneath me felt unfamiliar. The air smelled wrong. Even the silence felt different.My eyes opened slowly. The unfamiliar room came into focus piece by piece. Dark walls, a black dresser, and a chair in the corner with my dress thrown carelessly over it.My brow furrowed in confusion before understanding slammed into my chest all at once.This wasn’t my room.I pushed myself upright too quickly and immediately regretted it.“Fuck.” I winced.The room tilted violently, sending a fresh wave of nausea through me. A low groan escaped me as I pressed my fingers agai
JasmineThe bass from the speakers thudded against my ribs hard enough to feel like another heartbeat.Or maybe that was just the alcohol.I sat hunched over the bar, a half-empty shot glass in my hand, my fifth shot of the night. At that moment, the bar felt like a safe space.Even though it smelled like whiskey, sweaty bodies, and a mix of different perfumes, it still felt better than going home.Home meant silence.It meant my bed.It meant crying until morning with Jason’s groans trapped in my head and the image of Mia’s hands all over him every time I closed my eyes.I lifted two fingers toward the bartender.“Another.”The glass in front of me disappeared, and another one replaced it almost immediately. I stared at the liquid for a second before lifting it to my lips. The drink went down my throat in one gulp, sharp enough to make my eyes water.At least this pain made sense.Because none of the rest of it did.Three years.Three years of believing I’d found the person I was goi







