The Game Has Just Begun

Aina steps away from her stall, finally catching a breath between waves of visitors. Her nerves are still buzzing, but her lips hurt from smiling.

That's when she spots Sarah, standing a few tables away, adjusting something on her board.

Aina makes her way over.

"Hey," she says softly.

Sarah turns, and her face instantly brightens. "Aina! Girl, you're killing it."

Aina laughs, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Thanks. I needed to hear that."

Sarah holds up a cold bottle of water like a prize. "You look like you need this more."

Aina accepts it with gratitude. "Lifesaver. I swear my throat's going dry from all the talking."

Sarah grins. "You sound like a pro, though. I passed by earlier. People are just glued."

Aina unscrews the cap and takes a long sip. "They're curious. Also skeptical."

"They'll come around," Sarah says. "You're showing them something real."

Aina leans against the wall, her shoulders easing a little. "What about you? How's your project going?"

Sarah's eyes sparkle. "Mine's not translating cats, but… It's a smart waste separator. Using AI and camera input to detect and sort plastics, organics, and metals."

Aina raises her brows, impressed. "That's huge. You're fixing the planet, and I'm decoding meows."

They both laugh.

Sarah bumps her shoulder gently. "You're giving pets a voice. That's beautiful."

Aina smiles. "Thanks, Sarah."

Just then, someone calls from a few steps away.

"Aina!"

It's Murat, one of her classmates from the machine learning class. He jogs over, slightly breathless, pointing behind him.

"There's someone at your stall. He says he's been waiting."

Aina frowns. "Who?"

Murat shrugs. "I don't know. Tall guy. Dark jacket. Didn't say much. Just… intense vibe."

Aina's eyes dart toward her stall.

And there he is.

The same man.

The one who has been in the crowd earlier, watching. Not the app. Not the setup. Watching her.

He stands by the table now, hands in his coat pockets, calm yet unreadable. His eyes sweep slowly over the waveform screen, the colorful cards, and the soft blinking interface. But when Aina's gaze meets his, he doesn't look away.

A strange chill runs through her. Not fear. Not recognition either. Something in between.

"Aina?" Sarah's voice brings her back.

"I… I should go," Aina says, already stepping away.

Aina returns to her stall, sipping the last of the water Sarah has handed her. The hall buzzes, yet one presence cuts through the noise.

Him.

The same guy silently watching her earlier is standing right at her stall, examining the poster like he's reading between the lines.

He is striking — tall, effortlessly put-together in a black shirt, sleeves rolled up, sharp jaw, sharper gaze. But it's the look in his eyes that catches her off guard.

Not curiosity.

Not awe.

Challenge.

"Hello," Aina greets, voice polite but cautious. "Interested in the project?"

"Hmm," he tilts his head slightly. "It says your app translates cat emotions?"

"Yes," she answers, folding her arms. "It uses ML to classify feline vocalizations into emotional states."

He nods slowly, then asks casually, "But... what's the point of that? Isn't it just guessing?"

She blinks. "It's trained on labeled data. It's not guessing — it's prediction based on patterns."

"Right. But humans barely understand cat behavior. You think a machine can do better?"

A few students nearby turn their heads. Aina feels it — the shift. His voice isn't loud, but the confidence in it draws attention.

She stands a little straighter. "I think machines can help us understand what we often ignore. Patterns in sound, frequency, tone — things we dismiss, but are real."

The guy looks almost amused. "So you're saying this is more accurate than a vet's instinct?"

"No," she snaps. "But it can support it. It's an assistant, not a replacement."

He smiles faintly at her fire. "Interesting."

He walks around to the other side of the stall, eyes still locked on her.

"So... all this effort just for cats?"

Aina clenches her jaw, then says, voice clear, "I'm a cat owner. I know what it feels like not to understand what your pet needs. And I know others feel the same. So yes — for cats, for their humans, for peace of mind. That's the point."

Aina's hands tremble slightly as she gestures toward her display, frustration bubbling over. "You don't get it, do you? You're just another skeptic trying to knock it all down without even understanding what's at stake."

Rayyan's expression is unreadable, but the flicker of something dangerous in his eyes says he's not about to back down. With slow, purposeful strides, he closes the gap between them, his towering height making him feel like a wall. The air between them thickens, charged.

Before she can say anything else, he's there—so close that she feels the heat radiating from his body. His broad shoulders block out the background, and Aina has to tilt her chin up to hold his gaze. She glances around—students, faculty, movement—but everything fades. All she sees is him.

Her chest tightens, her breath quickens. What is he trying to prove? Or is this something deeper… something she doesn't want to admit?

"You've got a lot of fight in you," he murmurs, voice low, just for her. His fingers brush lightly against her arm, the contact sending a jolt of heat through her. "But you're not fighting the right way."

Aina opens her mouth to answer, but before a word escapes, Rayyan moves—swift and smooth. In a breath, she finds herself pressed against the edge of the stall. His body looms over hers, the height difference forcing her to crane her neck. One hand braces beside her head on the wall, cutting off any path to escape.

The edge of the stall digs into her back, her breath growing shallow and uneven. The heat from his body seeps into her, dizzying. Around them, the noise of the exhibition fades into a dull hum. All she hears is her own heartbeat, pounding like a war drum in her ears.

She should push him off. She should speak. But her body feels frozen—like the tension is gripping her just as tightly as he is.

"Let go," she says, though her voice lacks its usual sharpness. It's shaky, small.

Rayyan chuckles, the sound low and dark. "I'm not here to let go, Aina. I'm here to see how you defend what you've built. Not with words… but with conviction."

The pressure of his body sends heat crawling up her neck. Is this a game? A test? Or something else entirely? She clutches the edge of the stall harder, grounding herself. He can't win—not like this.

Rayyan leans in close, his lips brushing just near her ear. "You wanted to talk… we can talk like this."

Aina's breath catches. That voice, that nearness—it coils something tight and burning in her stomach. She hates the way it gets to her, but it does.

Rayyan's eyes lowered, slowly, hesitant, to her lips.

Soft. Slightly parted. Those pink, cherry-tinted lips that just spit fire at him. They look sweet—too sweet. Like strawberries. Or sin.

How would they taste? That question hits harder than it should. Would she kiss like she argues—sharp, bold, unyielding? Or would there be softness buried beneath?

If he stays a second longer, he'll cross a line neither of them is ready for.

His jaw tightens. He steps back—fast. Abrupt. The pressure vanishes, but the heat lingers.

Aina blinks, breathless and off-balance as the noise of the exhibition floods back in. She doesn't know whether to be angry or… something else.

Rayyan straightens to his full 6'2", a smirk tugging at his lips like he knows exactly what he's done.

"Catch up, Aina," he says, voice smooth and cutting. "It's not just about the app. It's about how you handle pressure."

She stands there, fists clenched at her sides, heart pounding, thoughts tangled. She won't let him control the moment—not completely.

[A Moment Later]

Aina stares at the empty space where he just stood, her heart still racing with a mess of confusion and irritation.

"Ugh, what was that even supposed to mean?" she mutters, rolling her eyes.

Just then, a familiar voice cuts through her haze.

"Whoa… what just happened here?"

It's Mehmet—a tall, laid-back guy from her department. He raises his eyebrows, glancing between her and the curious faces still lingering near her stall.

"Some random guy walks in, asks a bunch of questions like he's a judge or something—and then says he's here to watch me, not the project."

Mehmet grins. "Wait… tall, black shirt, walks like he owns the room?"

Aina nods slowly. "You know him?"

Mehmet chuckles. "Not personally. But yeah. Rayyan Demir. He's doing his Master's in AI at Boğaziçi. Top of his class—"

"Rayyan…?" she echoed, unsure. The name felt unfamiliar, but the intensity? That tracked.

"—Smart as hell," Mehmet continued. "People say he reads situations better than he writes code, which says a lot, because the guy's a freak with code."

Aina raises her eyebrows despite herself. "He's here for a project, too?"

Mehmet points toward the far end of the hall. "Yeah. That's his stall. Something about emotion recognition for deaf-blind communication. Super advanced. You should check it out—it's nuts."

Aina follows his finger. The booth is sleek, minimal, yet clearly popular—judges lean in, students ask questions. Rayyan stands behind the table, calm, confident, completely in control. Like he belongs in the spotlight.

She crosses her arms. "Good for him. Doesn't mean he gets to test people like that."

Mehmet laughs. "Maybe. Or maybe… he sees something in you."

She gives him a sharp look.

"I mean it in a good way!" he adds quickly. "He doesn't do that. Doesn't talk to people like that. Let alone walk into someone else's stall."

Aina looks away, lips pressed into a thin line. But her eyes betray her—because they drift.

They keep drifting to him.

She checks her screen. Adjusts a pen. Pretends to focus. But her gaze keeps flicking back.

And this time—Rayyan catches her.

He doesn't turn at first. Doesn't make it obvious. He waits, still talking to someone, until her stare lingers just a second too long.

Then, casually, without moving his head, his eyes find her.

Aina freezes.

Their eyes lock across the room, and the air tightens again. Her jaw clenches, her brows furrow, but her heart stumbles.

And that's when he does it.

That slow, wicked smile curls onto his lips. Not cocky. Not smug. But knowing. Like he's just confirmed something.

She's watching him.

Aina looks away fast, heat creeping into her cheeks—but it's too late.

He's seen it.

Rayyan turns back to his stall like nothing happened. But the smile stays.

If anything, it deepens.

Like the game has just begun.