When The Player Fell

Chapter 1: The Game Begins

Akaay

Love is a game. A challenge. A temporary high before the next thrill.

I don’t believe in forever, and honestly? I don’t think anyone does. People crave attention, validation—the idea of love more than love itself. And I’ve mastered the art of giving them exactly what they want.

They fall. I win. Simple.

Or at least, that’s how it’s always been.

Until her.

Alana Sharma.

She’s different. Not in the "mysterious girl in a romance novel" kind of way, but in a way that makes me want to understand her. She walks through the college corridors like she owns them, head high, gaze sharp, lips pressed into a permanent frown. She doesn’t smile, doesn’t waste time with pleasantries.

While every other girl I’ve met either flirts back or pretends not to be interested just to make me chase, Alana does neither. She doesn’t react. At all.

And that? That’s new.

So when my friends—Samar and Veer—throw a challenge my way, I don’t even hesitate.

"Make Alana fall for you," Samar smirks, stretching lazily on the cafeteria chair. "I bet you can’t."

"Three months," Veer adds. "That’s all you get. If she falls for you before graduation, we accept you’re the ultimate player."

I should refuse.

I should walk away.

But my pride won’t let me.

"Three months?" I scoff, leaning back. "I’ll make her fall in one."

And just like that, the game begins.

Alana

I hate players.

The charming smiles, the easy confidence, the way they think they can get anyone they want—it makes me sick. I’ve seen enough of them to know they’re all the same. Liars. Manipulators. Temporary.

And Akaay Verma?

He’s the worst of them all.

Every girl in college either has a crush on him or a heartbreak because of him. He’s smooth, confident, and worst of all—he knows it.

So when he slides into the empty seat beside me in the library, flashing that annoyingly perfect smirk, I don’t even look up from my book.

"Alana, right?"

I turn a page, pretending he doesn’t exist.

He chuckles. "Silent treatment? That’s new."

I sigh, finally meeting his gaze. "What do you want, Akaay?"

His smirk widens. "Straight to the point. I like that."

I don’t. I don’t like anything about him.

"I was just thinking," he continues, resting his chin on his palm. "We’re in our last year, and we barely know each other. Seems unfair, don’t you think?"

"No," I deadpan.

He laughs, low and rich. "You’re difficult, aren’t you?"

"I just don’t entertain useless conversations."

His brows rise, but instead of being offended, he looks intrigued. That’s what bothers me. He’s used to girls falling over themselves to impress him, and here I am—an unsolvable puzzle he’s suddenly obsessed with.