The auditorium buzzed with excitement as students in navy gowns adjusted their caps, their families proudly watching from the audience. For Sara Suleiman, this wasn't just graduation - it was the beginning of everything she'd worked for.
Toronto's sky was grey outside, but inside the University of Metropolitan Studies, lights glimmered as a grand ceremony unfolded. Sara's heart raced, not because of the crowd, but because she knew her parents were watching with the kind of love that made everything worth it.
The host's voice echoed through the hall:
"Please welcome our esteemed chief guests - the legendary entrepreneur Mr. Richard Whitmore and his son, the CEO of Whitmore International, Mr. Noah Whitmore."
Applause thundered.
Sara blinked. She'd heard of the Whitmores - untouchable rich, involved in tech empires, and definitely not the kind of people who noticed girls like her.
She wasn't wrong.
Noah Whitmore walked in, tall and perfectly dressed, his expression unreadable. His eyes swept across the crowd with icy detachment. His presence silenced the room.
But as he passed the front row, his gaze caught hers - just for a second. And something shifted. Just slightly. But enough.
As the top student in her department, Sara's name was called for a special excellence award.
Her heart pounded as she walked up to the stage. The lights were hot, her robe heavy - but her face calm. Her mother's proud eyes met hers in the front row. She smiled softly.
Noah stood beside the podium, holding the award. His expression was still unreadable, but his posture sharp and confident.
"Sara Suleiman," he said coolly, handing over the plaque. Then like routine, he extended his hand for a congratulatory shake.
Sara froze for a half second.
Then, politely, she bowed her head a little, accepted the award with both hands, and whispered a gentle, "Thank you, sir," before stepping back without touching his hand.
The moment was subtle, almost invisible to the crowd.
But not to Noah.
His hand hung midair for a second longer before he dropped it, his jaw tightening just slightly. He turned away quickly - but something in his eyes had shifted. Not anger. Not hurt.
Just.... curiosity. And a strange discomfort.
Why didn't she shake my hand?
Later That Evening...
The ceremony was over. The crowd had thinned. Students were busy taking pictures with their families and laughter echoed through the University lawn.
Noah stood near his black luxury car, arms folded, jaw clenched. He hadn't said much since they left the stage.
His cousin, Leo - flashy, loud, and equally privileged - leaned against the hood, sipping an energy drink.
"Bro, what was that on stage?" Leo smirked.
"That girl. Sara, right? She just... ignored your handshake?"
Noah didn't reply.
Leo let out a low whistle. " I mean, who does that to Noah Whitmore? Seriously. You - the guy evey girl trips over - and she acted like you're invisible?"
"It wasn't personal," Noah muttered, brushing it off. "Maybe it's her culture or whatever".
"Culture, my foot," Leo scoffed. "Come on, man. Girls from every background dream about standing that close to you. And this one? She acts all... righteous and proud? Dude, he dissed you - in front of everyone."
Noah's eyes darkened. He hated admitting it, but something about Leo's words stung.
That moment hadn't left his mind since it happened.
And now, it wasn't just curiosity brewing in him. It was ego.
Challenge.
A strange need to know why she did it.