Chapter 3: The Barrage, the Hero, and the Script

Priya’s boldness shocked me.

She leaned in, breath hot, hands clutching my collar like she’d never let go. The shyness was gone, replaced by raw daring.

My scalp tingled, I stroked her head, coaxing her to let go, and finally she licked her lips and let me carry her to bed.

As I lifted her, she giggled, but her laughter trembled. Her hair tickled my chin as she pressed closer.

My body burned, desperate for a monsoon downpour to cool off.

Thunder rumbled outside, echoing the wild rhythm in my chest. Rain mixed with her perfume in the air.

Priya was eager, but her eyes were red, pleading. "Arjun, I’m scared."

She clung to me, voice trembling. I stroked her hair, murmuring, "Baby, relax."

I tried to make her laugh, kissing her forehead, telling silly jokes, but the tension hung heavy.

No matter how much I kissed or caressed her, she stayed dry, in so much pain she cried.

I paused, heart sinking. She turned away, biting her lip, tears close to spilling. I felt helpless.

I looked at her suffering face, feeling pity and pain. My chest tightened. All I could do was whisper apologies.

"Baby, maybe we should try another day..."

I wiped her tears, forcing a smile. Her eyes searched mine for hope.

Her eyes red, she hugged me. "Isn’t it normal for the first time? Just go ahead, I’m not afraid."

She clung to me, brave words, but fear lingered in her gaze.

She kissed me hard, throwing my thoughts into chaos.

Her lips were hungry, desperate to prove something—to me, to herself, or to the world.

I tried again, and suddenly barrage lines flashed before my eyes.

[LOL, ab toh heroine apni zindagi pe sawal karegi.]

[Bechara side character, itni koshish ke baad bhi kuch nahi ho raha.]

[Hero ka hi haq hai, sabko pata hai. Side character sapna bhi na dekhe.]

[Heroine, bas apne aap pe bharosa rakh. Tu perfect shubh kanya hai—hero chhoo lega, toh sab theek ho jayega.]

Only then did I realise: this world was a full-on melodramatic campus romance novel.

For a second, it all felt like a Star Plus script, with us as the puppets. Everything fit too perfectly, too cruelly.

Priya was the proud daughter and heroine. Kunal, son of her family’s house help, was the tough but insecure hero.

I’d seen Kunal lurking at family functions, never meeting eyes, always carrying tea trays, watching Priya when he thought no one noticed.

He always loved Priya, chasing after her but never daring to confess.

The silent type—never saying much, but his whole body screamed devotion. The kind of guy aunties secretly root for at weddings.

Until, after some twists, they ended up together. It sounded like a bad Bollywood plot, but here we were—trapped in it.

Me? Just the side character meant to bring their feelings closer.

The more I tried, the more I realised I was just the guy who made the hero look better by comparison.

I’d keep humiliating the hero, making the heroine pity him, helping her realise who she loved.

It stung, being the villain in someone else’s love story, but I tried to laugh it off.

Her heart and body would only ever belong to the hero. I was just a stain—destined to be erased.

No effort could change the script. Destiny, or just bad luck?

It sounded ridiculous, but Priya’s behaviour proved her body was loyal to her setting.

No matter how I tried to break the pattern, it snapped back.

Watching Priya, flustered and regretful, wanting to try again, I silently pretended to be asleep.

She curled up beside me, breathing ragged. I shut my eyes, ignoring her whispered apologies.

Let whoever wants to be a tool be a tool. If she doesn’t belong to me, I don’t want her either.

I resolved to step away—no matter how much it hurt.