I Love you… I fell for you like a madman the very first time I saw you.”

The words struck the college field like a bolt of lightning on a quiet morning.

Faisal Rahman—captain of the National College football team, jersey number ten—stood there with beads of sweat glistening on his forehead. In his hand, he held a bright red rose. Around them, nearly two hundred pairs of eyes were fixed on the scene, buzzing with anticipation.

The moment the girl heard those words, something inside her snapped.

Her fingers tightened around her notebook, the pages crumpling under the pressure. The word “love”—she couldn’t stand it. Not even a little. That single word carried memories she wished she could erase forever.

Her mother’s muffled cries in the afternoon…

Sleepless nights filled with silent tears…

And her father’s empty pillow—cold, untouched.

To her, “love” didn’t mean warmth.

It smelled like betrayal.

But within seconds, she composed herself.

A cold, unreadable mask settled over her face. Step by step, she walked toward Faisal. The entire field fell into pin-drop silence, as if even the wind had stopped to watch.

Faisal’s grip tightened slightly around the rose as she approached.

Then—

She took it.

A wave of whispers spread instantly.

“Did she just accept it?”

“Is she saying yes?”

But she hadn’t taken the flower to accept his love.

Smack.

In the very next moment, she tore the petals one by one and threw them straight at his face. The red petals clung to his sweat-drenched jersey, his hair, his stunned expression.

Faisal froze.

His eyes widened in disbelief as the girl turned around and started walking away.

Then she stopped just for a second, her voice loud and sharp enough for everyone to hear—

“Don’t ever come to me again with this ‘love’ nonsense. I’m not the kind of girl who gets sold for a goal and a rose.”

The field went completely silent.

This was Faisal Rahman—the most popular guy in college. The one girls waited hours just to watch during practice. And yet, he had just been humiliated in front of everyone.

For a few seconds, he didn’t move.

A strange ringing filled his ears.

A girl who looked so calm… so composed… had just shattered his pride in seconds. It didn’t make sense.

Before he could process it, a voice came from behind—

“Hey, Faisal! Why are you standing like an idiot? Let’s go—if we’re late for strategy class, coach is going to chew us alive!”

Faisal turned.

It was his vice-captain, Deep.

Faisal’s jaw tightened.

“Who is she?”

Deep smirked, patting his back lightly.

“New admission. Arpita Banerjee. Just transferred from Gopalganj. Today’s her first day. Heard she topped the admission test. Total ice queen.”

A slow, crooked smile appeared on Faisal’s lips.

He brushed a petal off his cheek and said quietly—

“Love at first sight… huh?”

Then his eyes darkened slightly.

“But what she did to me… no one says no to Faisal Rahman.”

Deep raised an eyebrow, surprised.

“Don’t tell me… you’re actually falling for her?”

Faisal didn’t answer immediately.

His gaze remained fixed on the empty spot where Arpita had been standing just moments ago.

Then, in a low, controlled voice, he said—

“It’s not just that… I need her.”

A pause.

“That ‘no’—that was the first one I’ve ever heard in my life.”

He exhaled slowly, determination settling into his expression.

“Find out everything about her, Deep. I want to know why she hates me… why she hates the word ‘love’ so much.”

Meanwhile, in another part of the city…

Brishti was still buried under her blanket, fast asleep.

After staying up all night watching a documentary on Lionel Messi, she was completely knocked out. The TV still played goal highlights in the background.

Today was her first day at college too—

But she couldn’t care less.

She had only enrolled because her father insisted.

Suddenly, her phone started ringing.

And ringing.

And ringing.

At the same time, across town, Rupa stood frozen in her living room as she saw guests sitting on the sofa—the groom’s family. Her mother, hands trembling, served them tea.

Panic shot through her.

She immediately called Brishti.

After twenty-one rings, a sleepy voice finally answered—

“What is it… I’m sleeping…”

Rupa didn’t waste a second.

“I broke up with Rahul last night—and today they came to see me! Mom is fixing my marriage! Do something, Brishti! You said you’d help me!”

Brishti yawned lazily.

“Relax… this marriage isn’t happening. Not over my dead body.”

“I’m serious! Stop joking!”

“Okay, okay…” she sighed, sitting up slowly.

“Give me the details. Name, job, weaknesses. If we’re making a plan, we do it properly.”

But one question lingered over the entire college like dark clouds gathering before a storm—

Why does Arpita hate the word love so much?

What had love done to her?

And what will happen when the boldest boy in college decides that the one girl who hates him the most… is the one he can’t live without?

To be continued…

*“She is my personal bird”*

"Not happening, seriously. You won’t get married. You’ll go there, understand? I’m Rupa, I’m saying no."

Rupa’s voice trembled on the other end of the phone. Anger, fear, or helplessness—impossible to tell which.

Brishti let out a long sigh. "Have you lost it? You broke up with Rahul last night, and today your mom has the groom’s family sitting in the living room? This isn’t a movie, Rupa."

"I’m not your ‘honey’! I’m dying here!" Rupa screamed. "Do something, Brishti. You said you’d be there if I ever needed you."

Brishti rubbed her eyes and sat up. "Okay. The guy’s name, what he does, his weakness—tell me everything. We need a plan."

The second she hung up, Brishti’s mind drifted elsewhere. She had to catch Arpita at college. After what happened on the field yesterday... throwing flower petals at Faysal and humiliating him in front of everyone. The guy’s ego must be shattered for sure.

*College Gate, 8:45 AM*

Arpita, Rupa, Brishti—all three walked in together. The second they entered, the air felt heavy. Every girl’s eyes were on them. Whispers hit their ears.

"...that’s the girl... she said no to Faysal..."

"...did you hear? Last night Faysal apparently went to her house..."

"...no way, Faysal’s telling everyone they’re getting married!"

Arpita froze mid-step. Her jaw clenched tight. "What? Married?"

Rupa grabbed her hand. "Don’t listen to them. Let’s go to class."

But it was already too late. At the end of the corridor, Faysal stood there. Jersey number ten, Coke can in hand. Eyes red. He clearly hadn’t slept all night.

The moment he saw them, he walked straight toward them. Only two arms’ distance left between them.

"Arpita," his voice was calm, but there was a storm underneath. "Sorry about yesterday. But let me clear one thing. I didn’t spread any rumors about you."

Arpita let out a sarcastic laugh. "Really? Then why is the whole college saying you and I already said ‘yes’? Who was under my house last night, Faysal?"

Faysal went still. "I didn’t go. I swear—"

"Liar!" Arpita screamed. Shaking with rage, she grabbed an empty Coca-Cola can from the nearby bench. Crushed it in two seconds. Then she hurled the crumpled can straight at Faysal’s chest.

_Thang!_

The can hit and rolled on the floor. Faysal didn’t move an inch. He just stared at Arpita like he wanted to devour her with his eyes.

The next second, Arpita grabbed him by the collar. His white shirt stretched tight. "How dare you spread these lies? You bastard! You think just because you’re captain, every girl will fall at your feet?"

The entire corridor went dead silent. A hundred pairs of eyes, a hundred phone cameras.

Faysal slowly covered Arpita’s hand with his own. Her hand was ice cold, his was burning hot.

"I don’t lie, Arpita," he whispered, low enough that only she could hear. "And I’m not scared of you. I want you. You’re my first ‘no.’ And I’m not used to hearing ‘no.’"

Arpita yanked her hand away with a jerk. The top two buttons of Faysal’s shirt tore off.

"I’m shocked at your audacity," Arpita spat the words out. "Don’t you dare cross my path again."

She turned and walked away. Rupa and Brishti ran after her.

Faysal just stood there. Torn shirt, Coke stain on his chest, and a crooked smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Dip ran up to him. "Bhai! You okay? That girl is straight-up fire!"

Faysal didn’t even try to fix his shirt. His eyes were still locked on the end of the corridor, where Arpita had disappeared.

"Fire is exactly what I needed, Dip," Faysal whispered. "Until now they were all wax dolls. This is the first time someone actually burned me."

He paused, then added, "I need her. She is bird. She is my personal bird. I won’t cage her. But the sky will be mine."

Dip’s throat went dry. "Bhai you... are you serious...?"

"I will marry her," Faysal said without breaking his stare. "Whether she agrees or not. Arpita Banerjee will become Arpita Rahman."

---

To be continued..

14th April. Shubho Noboborsho.

The girls’ mess at Cumilla Victoria College was buzzing. Arpita, Brishti, Rupa, and Ahona—four friends—decided they’d wear sarees and go watch the football match today. It was Pohela Boishakh, and the field had a festive vibe.

“Hey Opi, hold my anchol for a sec!” Rupa was struggling to manage her red-bordered white saree.

Orpita stood in front of the mirror, adjusting her yellow Jamdani. Red bindi on her forehead, silk bangles on her wrist, beli flowers in her bun. Until yesterday, her life was just classes and Faisal’s threats. Today, everything suddenly felt colorful.

Ahona came back after a phone call, jumping with excitement. “Guys! My cousin Sajjat bhaiya got the tickets! He said to wait by the gate. After the match, he’ll even take us to Dhormoshagor Par.”

“Sajjad bhaiya? Who’s that?” Brishti asked.

“Arrey, my maternal cousin. He lives in Cumilla. He planned everything for us,” Ahona said.

Cumilla Stadium was packed. Pohela Boishakh banners everywhere, the sound of dhak drums, kids running around with kites.

Sajjat bhaiya was standing by the gate. Four tickets in hand. “Shubho Noboborsho! Here, take these. Hurry up, the match is about to start.”

They climbed up to the gallery and sat down. The two teams were entering the field. Victoria College vs the other college.

Suddenly the commentator announced on the mic, “And playing as the striker for Victoria College is everyone’s favorite, BUET student, Aditya Roy Chowdhury ”

Arpita looked toward the field. A boy in the number 10 jersey was walking in. Nearly 6 feet tall. Dusky skin, glowing in the sun. Trimmed beard, hair down to his neck fluttering in the wind. Every muscle in his body moved as he ran. But there was no arrogance on his face. Just an oddly calm aura.

Sajjad said from beside them, “That’s Aditya. Studies at BUET, but whenever he’s home for vacation, he plays for our college. He’s basically all of Cumilla’s crush.”

Orpita couldn’t look away. Just yesterday, the boy who grabbed her collar and called her ‘personal bird’ was fire. And this boy? This boy was like the green grass of the field. Gentle, but powerful.

The first goal came from Aditya. The moment the ball hit the net, the entire gallery erupted. But Aditya didn’t jump around. He just looked up at the sky, placed a hand on his chest, then gave a slight nod toward the gallery.

For one second, Arpita felt like Aditya was looking right at her. Her heart skipped a beat.

*[Scene 3: Chatting at the mess & making plans]*

Match ended. Victoria College won 2-0. Both goals by Aditya.

Back at the mess, everyone was tired but happy. Ahona brought chilled lassi.

Sajjad said, “So, how was the match? Aditya killed it, didn’t he?”

“Bhaiya, does Aditya live in Cumilla?” Rupa asked.

“Nah, he lives in Dhaka. Third year at BUET. Came home for the Noboborsho holidays. You’ll meet him again tomorrow at Dhormoshagor Par. Talked to him after the match. He said he’ll hang out at the fair with you guys,” Sajjat said with a grin.

Orpita was listening silently. In her ears, she could still hear the roar from the field, the calm way Aditya acted after scoring. The fire that’s always in Faisal’s eyes—this boy didn’t have that. In his eyes, there was a deep, still lake.

Ahona said, “So, tomorrow at 10 AM, Kandirpar. Final?”

Everyone agreed.

Unnoticed by the others, Orpita looked out the window. New leaves on the krishnachura tree. The scent of beli flowers in the wind.

Until yesterday, there was only one person in her world—Faisal. Who comes like a storm, breaking everything in his path.

Today was 14th April. Shubho Noboborsho.

Today, for the first time, she saw a different kind of boy. Who doesn’t jump after scoring, but bows his head. Who doesn’t threaten, but smiles with his eyes lowered.

If Faisal is a Kalboishakhi storm, then is Aditya the first rain of Noboborsho?

*[To be continued...]*