**Winner 2024 Amby Awards**
Fiza has everything planned-medical school, a respectable future, and an engagement she never wanted. Determined to escape a loveless match, she creates a checklist to find the perfect husband her father will approve of.
...
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I had missed the official tryouts. But Vineet, good guy that he is, went to bat for me. He must have talked me up something fierce, because they gave me a chance to prove myself. I did. And just like that, I had a spot on the team.
It was a different world. These guys were cool, yeah, but in a way that was about the game, about the hustle, not about what we could smoke or drink after. For the first time in forever, I had a circle of friends that felt... clean.
And then there was Salman. The legend himself. The guy had his own gravitational field, especially where the hostel girls were concerned. They would crowd under the tree near the court every practice, their cheers hitting a deafening pitch every time he so much as looked at the ball.
I had always just assumed Fiza was there for me. But watching her watch him today, I felt a sick, irrational anger. Was Salman the real reason she was always here?
That evening, I couldn't shake it. Every time Salman had the ball, I saw red. I fouled him. Again. And again. Hard, unnecessary shoves that had nothing to do with the game and everything to do with the frustration boiling inside me.
Sandeep, our captain, finally blew the whistle and pointed straight at me. "Kaliyankal! Sit. Now. Until you remember how to control yourself."
I stormed off the court, my chest heaving, humiliation burning my ears. Fiza looked mortified. I saw her hesitate, then she reluctantly came over and settled on the cemented ground next to me.
"What was that, Alan?" she asked sounding exasperated.
"Just the game," I muttered, not looking at her.
She pressed on, her voice softer now, but with an edge of worry. "You won't sabotage me, will you?"
That stung. I finally held her gaze, feeling betrayed. Was this it? Was I just her ticket to Salman? But then I saw it—the playful smile tugging at her lips. She was joking. The tension in my chest unraveled just a little. I rolled my eyes, and without thinking, I reached out and placed my hand on her thigh. "Idiot!"
The reaction was instantaneous. She took a sharp breath and immediately shoved my hand away. "Don't do that!" she exclaimed, frustration clear in her voice. "You know I'm... I'm sensitive." She bit her lip, looking flustered.
My mind raced, throwing me back to that night in my room. The soft gasp when I had buried my face in her neck. The shaky breaths when I'd held her too tight.
The confusion was a whirlpool inside me. How could she be so affected by my touch... and yet ask me to introduce her to another guy? I looked at her, sitting there, her cheeks flushed, and I couldn't for the life of me figure out what was going on in her head.
I saw Salman jogging toward us, that easy, charismatic smile plastered on his face. "All good, bro?"
Part of me wanted to tell him to get lost, but I had made a promise. I shoved down the irrational irritation and forced a lighthearted tone. "Yeah! All good," I said, taking his extended hand.
