Chapter 3: Stage Lights and Shocking Reveals

On the day of the event, I watched the live stream out of sheer boredom. My fingers itched to type in chat, to feel the rush again.

The host was introducing the guests on stage.

The camera panned across the lineup. The auditorium was buzzing; you could almost feel the excitement through the screen. Rows of fans waved neon signs and homemade banners, some aunties in sarees clapping louder than the college kids.

When it landed on the second contestant’s face, my eyes lit up.

Whoa—so handsome!

There’s actually someone this good-looking in the Indian esports scene? He could totally be a Bollywood hero. That sharp jawline, those mischievous eyes—uff, even my Dadi would approve!

The host announced, "Let’s welcome player Ankit!"

He looked at the camera, lips curling into a faint smile, the corners of his eyes lifting: "Hello everyone. I’m back."

The cheers from the audience swelled. Fans waved banners; someone even threw a soft toy shaped like a rasgulla.

The chat exploded:

"Ankit is finally returning to the stage after more than half a year!"

"Looking forward to his amazing performance!"

The comments were wild, calling him 'husband.' I couldn’t help grinning—this is the real Indian esports culture: all fun, all heart.

[A God! He’s back! Finally!]

[Fans, calm down. He hasn’t played in over half a year—who knows if he’s still worthy of WG’s starting lineup.]

[Haters, mind your own business. Dad’s skills are none of your concern.]

[Hubby! Let me worship you!]

[Look at those abs, let me bite, bite, bite!]

No wonder.

Turns out he hadn’t been on stage for half a year.

When I first met Arjun and he claimed to be a pro player, I checked the tournament rosters.

I scrolled through all the player photos but never saw Arjun’s name.

Nor did I see a face this handsome and striking.

So I lied too, saying I was a celebrity.

A relationship built on lies was never going to end well.

But from now on, I’ll forget about the heartbreak Arjun gave me and become a loyal fangirl for this handsome guy. Fangirl life is simpler. No drama, no heartbreak—just liking photos and drawing fanart!

Before the exhibition match, my sister showed off the nine-tailed fox skin I’d spent thousands of rupees trying to get—only for Arjun to gift it to me in the end. She spun her character in the lobby, admiring the animation, like she was wearing a new saree at a Diwali party.

"This skin is gorgeous. Wearing it makes me feel even more powerful in-game."

Sneha looked at her own grayed-out skin list and forced a smile: "I was too busy shooting back then, didn’t have time to draw for it. I’ll definitely get it next time it’s available."

My sister smiled sweetly: "Then I’ll wear it for now." Her tone was sugary, but everyone knew the rivalry simmering underneath.

Both teams entered the loading screen. The tension between them crackled, like two rival queens at a Durga Puja pandal.

Host: "Let’s look forward to our first match..."

Suddenly, the host’s voice cut off.

The director’s camera froze awkwardly.

The chat went silent. My breath caught in my throat.

I looked up at the live feed, my eyes wide in disbelief.

No way—his name is Bada Sher Ka Rasgulla too?

And the couple tag is still there?

The chat exploded:

[Ankit and Priya!]

[Someone please slap me awake.]

[I think I’ve had too much Thums Up. I need a break.]

[Couple IDs, level 52 couple tag...]

[Wife fans, where are you? Come cry with me.]

I was completely stunned. My hand flew to my mouth, just like when Amma catches me sneaking sweets. I stared at the screen as if it might start playing a saas-bahu twist any second.

The director quickly cut away.

The host cleared his throat and changed the subject. A classic move—divert, distract, delay!

On camera, Arjun stared intently at his phone screen. His jaw was set, eyes sharp. Then he turned to look at my sister.

Priya slowly turned to look at him, too. Their eyes met, then quickly darted away, like two teenagers caught passing notes in class.

[Are you two really going to show off your relationship this openly?]

[And Ankit, wait—did he go home for a rishta meeting?] The comments kept coming, faster than WhatsApp forwards in a family group.

Meanwhile, Sneha’s gaze flickered between Priya and Arjun. I could almost hear her plotting her next move.

I quietly entered Ankit’s fan forum and posted on Instagram. My fingers flew, half nervous, half excited.

Soon, an enthusiastic fan replied:

[Ankit, real name Arjun Mehra. Led WG to win the championship in last year’s spring split, then took a break for personal reasons.]

[Didi, did you fall for him too?]

[By the way, your fanart is gorgeous! Can I commission a drawing of Ankit showing off his abs?]

My hand trembled as I held my phone. I suddenly felt exposed, as if all my little secrets were floating around the internet.

When I first downloaded the game, he was already on break.

No wonder I couldn’t find him on the tournament roster.

So in the end—

He really was a pro player.

But I’m not actually a celebrity...

In the livestream, the match had already begun. The bright lights reflected off the players’ faces; the crowd’s excitement buzzed through the speakers.

Even in a fun exhibition match, it was obvious how much the jungler protected and looked after the mid laner. The camera zoomed in on Ankit—Arjun—hovering protectively by Priya’s character, ready to jump in at any sign of danger.

Whenever two enemies went missing from the mid lane, he would immediately rush over to guard the bush, his playstyle more careful than ever—just like those times he used to carry me late into the night, when the city outside had finally gone quiet.

As I watched, my thoughts spun. Did I regret blocking him? Did I want to reach out, to say sorry, to try again? My heart felt restless, the ache of unfinished business refusing to fade.

Even as the match played on, I couldn’t stop wondering—had I let go of something real, or was it all just another game?