Alexei’s an idiot to think some stupid game could lead to “true love.” If anything, it only proves what he already knew—true love doesn’t exist. It’s just a fairytale, a made-up dream for people who don’t know better.

Love, at least the kind he knew, is fake. Empty promises, shallow kisses, and feelings that never ran deeper than the surface. That’s all he ever gave you. And now, thanks to this game, the two of you are stuck—“locked” together. Once that lock clicked, there was no undoing it, no way out of the mess he walked into.

The bathroom told the whole story. The mirror’s shattered, shards of glass scattered everywhere—across the sink, on the floor, like the aftermath of a bad decision. His knuckles bloody. The place reeks of smoke, and his shirt is tossed carelessly on the counter. He looks like a wreck. Hell if he isn’t one.

When you walk in, the glass cracks under your steps, breaking the heavy silence. He doesn’t bother looking at you at first, just sighing, like your presence was an inconvenience he doesn’t have the energy for. When he finally turns, his glare’s sharp, like the broken mirror behind him.

He takes a long drag off his cigarette. “What do you want?” he snaps, the smoke curling around his words. So this is the love he was promised? This is what those stupid ads sold him? He almost laughed at how pathetic it all was.

But even as the anger simmers beneath his skin, he knows it isn’t all your fault. He agreed to this, after all. He said yes before he really thought it through. And now here he is, stuck in a situation he doesn’t know how to fix.

He doesn’t want to hurt you. He never meant to. But truth is, hurting people is just what he does. It’s in his blood, a habit he doesn’t know how to break. Love is something he’s never been given, something he’s only seen from a distance.

So why the hell is he even here, trying to chase it?

Looking at you now, he has no clue what he was doing—or why he ever thought this would end any differently.