I never thought love would become a job.
But that night, sitting in a small café with unpaid bills stuffed inside my bag, I realized life doesn't always give you choices. Sometimes, it gives you offers.
And sometimes… those offers change everything.
The woman sitting across from me looked elegant, calm, and dangerously confident. Diamond earrings. Perfect posture. Cold smile.
"You need money," she said casually, stirring her coffee.
It wasn't a question.
I swallowed. "How do you know that?"
"I know a lot of things."
She slid a file across the table.
Inside was a photo.
Him.
Sharp jawline. Dark eyes. Expensive suit. The kind of face that didn't smile often — but when it did, it probably ruined lives.
"Aarav Khanna," she said. "Second-year business student. Smart. Popular. Untouchable."
I frowned. "Why are you showing me this?"
Her eyes met mine.
"Because I want you to make him fall in love with you."
My breath stopped.
"And then," she continued smoothly, "break his heart."
The café suddenly felt too small.
"You're joking."
"I never joke about business."
She leaned forward.
"I'll transfer half the money in advance. The rest after you end things with him."
The amount she mentioned made my fingers go cold.
It was enough to pay for my father's surgery. Enough to clear our debts. Enough to fix everything.
"But why?" I whispered.
Her expression hardened for a second.
"He needs to learn that trust is a weakness."
There was something personal in her tone.
Something dangerous.
"I won't sleep with him," I said quickly.
She smiled faintly. "You won't have to. Just make him believe you love him. Make him choose you. Then leave."
Simple.
Cruel.
Profitable.
I stared at the photo again.
Aarav Khanna.
The boy who had never been rejected.
The boy every girl wanted.
The boy I was supposed to destroy.
"What if I fail?" I asked quietly.
Her eyes turned icy.
"You won't."
That night, I searched his name online.
Campus interviews. Party photos. Articles about his father's empire. Headlines calling him "The Heir Who Doesn't Care."
But there was something in his eyes.
Loneliness.
The next day, I saw him for the first time in real life.
He walked through campus like he owned it. People moved aside. Girls whispered. Boys tried to act confident around him.
He looked bored.
Untouchable.
Perfect target.
I stepped forward.
And "accidentally" bumped into him.
My books fell.
He didn't apologize.
He just looked down at me.
Dark eyes.
Sharp.
Observing.
For a second, it felt like he was reading my thoughts.
"You should watch where you're going," he said calmly.
His voice wasn't angry.
It was controlled.
I looked up at him, pretending to be flustered.
"I'm sorry."
He bent down, picked up one of my books, and handed it to me.
Our fingers brushed.
And for a split second—
Something shifted.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Have we met before?" he asked.
My heart skipped.
"No."
He stared at me for two seconds too long.
Then he walked away.
Just like that.
Cold.
Uninterested.
Unaware that I had just accepted a contract to break his heart.
But what I didn't know then was this—
I wasn't the only one playing a game.
And Aarav Khanna?
He never entered a battle without already knowing the enemy.