The rain wasn’t romantic.
It was messy, loud, and completely ruining Aarya’s day.
Her white kurti? Transparent.
Her hair? A disaster.
Her mood? Already criminal-level dangerous.
She ran into the college gate, drenched, annoyed, and muttering,
“First day… great… just great…”
And then—
BAM.
She crashed straight into someone.
Books fell. Coffee spilled. Silence hit.
“Are you blind?” a deep voice snapped.
Aarya froze… slowly looking up.
Tall. Annoyingly handsome. Sharp jawline. Dark eyes.
And currently glaring at her like she committed a crime.
“Oh wow,” she crossed her arms, “first day and I meet attitude king.”
“I said sorry?” he said dryly.
“You didn’t.”
“…I meant internally.”
“Keep it internal only then.”
They stared.
Electric tension. Zero peace.
“Name?” he asked.
“Aarya.”
“Aarav.”
“Great. Now I know who to avoid.”
“Same.”
Perfect.
Enemies from Day 1.
Two days later—
Aarya sat in the principal’s office, bored out of her soul.
“You’ll be part of the intercollege cultural team,” the principal said.
“I didn’t sign up—”
“You’re selected.”
“Of course I am,” she muttered.
“And your partner will be—”
The door opened.
And guess who walked in.
Aarav.
“No.”
“No.”
Both said at the same time.
The principal adjusted his glasses like he enjoyed chaos.
“You two will act as a couple for the competition.”
“WHAT?” they shouted.
“It’s a relationship-based performance. You must look convincing.”
Aarya laughed.
Aarav didn’t.
“Sir, we hate each other.”
“Good,” the principal smiled, “chemistry is already strong.”
“Rule number one,” Aarya said, walking beside him, “no unnecessary talking.”
“Rule number two,” Aarav replied, “don’t embarrass me.”
“Rule number three—”
“Don’t fall in love,” he smirked.
She stopped.
“Trust me,” she said coldly, “that won’t happen.”
But life loves jokes.
Because—
Practice started.
Holding hands for scenes.
Eye contact for “emotions.”
Fake smiles turning… slightly real.
One evening—
“Look at me like you love me,” Aarav said.
“I don’t know how,” she replied.
He stepped closer.
“Then learn.”
Their eyes met.
Silence.
Heartbeat.
Something… shifted.
Aarya noticed things.
Aarav didn’t laugh much.
He avoided calls from “home.”
He stayed late in college… alone.
One night she found him on the terrace.
“Why do you act like you don’t care?” she asked.
“Because caring makes things complicated.”
“That’s a very boring answer.”
He looked at her.
“Not everyone has a perfect life, Aarya.”
“For the record,” she said softly, “neither do I.”
Silence again.
But this time… it was comfortable.
Competition day.
Lights. Stage. Crowd.
They performed.
Fighting. Laughing. Crying.
And then—the final scene.
Aarav held her hand.
“This was never fake for me,” he whispered (part of the script… or not?)
Aarya’s heart stopped.
Her line came next.
But she forgot.
Because for a second—
It didn’t feel like acting anymore.
After the performance—
They won.
Cheers. Applause. Celebration.
But Aarya overheard something.
Aarav. Talking. Laughing.
“With his friends.”
“Bro, that fake love thing? Easy win. I told you I can convince anyone.”
Her chest tightened.
“…yeah,” he continued, “it was all just acting.”
Something broke.
“You lied.”
Aarav turned.
“Aarya—”
“Don’t. Was anything real?”
“It wasn’t like that—”
“Then how was it?” her voice shook, “Was I just part of your ‘easy win’?”
Silence.
Wrong answer.
She laughed bitterly.
“Congrats, Aarav. You’re a great actor.”
And she walked away.
Days passed.
No fights.
No teasing.
No Aarya.
Aarav stood in the same rain where they first met.
This time—
He waited.
Because maybe…
The biggest lie wasn’t the act.
It was pretending he didn’t feel
anything.
Some stories don’t start with love.
They start with ego, lies, and mistakes…
And then slowly—
Turn into something real.
