Next Morning — Office Pantry
The overhead lights buzzed softly in the otherwise empty pantry. It was just after 9, but most of the team wouldn't trickle in for another half-hour. Saikiran was already there—leaning against the counter, arms folded, jaw tight.
His fingers tapped the side of his coffee cup, his eyes locked on the floor like he was trying to bore a hole through it.
He replayed the night again.
The way Dhiraj had smiled at her.
The way she had smiled back.
And then laughed.
Laughed like he wasn't even standing next to her.
He didn't understand why it had gotten under his skin so badly.
Well—maybe he did. He just didn't want to say it out loud.
The door creaked open.
"Hey," Ishani's voice was soft, still sleepy.
Saikiran didn't look up immediately. "Morning."
She walked in, barefoot in her slip-ons, eyes a little puffy, hoodie oversized. She looked endearingly disheveled.
He hated that noticing it made his stomach tighten.
She poured herself a cup of coffee and leaned next to him, nudging his arm playfully.
"Why do you look like someone kicked your puppy?"
He gave a noncommittal hum. "Didn't sleep well."
"Too much excitement from your shiny new toy?"
"I didn't even unbox it."
She frowned. "What? That's not like you. You were counting down to this for weeks."
"Yeah," he said, gaze steady on his cup. "Guess I wasn't in the mood."
"Why?"
He finally looked at her. His expression wasn't angry—just... muted. Careful. Guarded. "Some things just kinda kill the mood."
Something about his tone made her straighten.
She studied him. "You alright?"
He offered a small smile. "Totally. You and mystery-boy seemed to be having a blast though."
Her smile faltered. "You mean Dhiraj?"
He shrugged. "Whatever his name is."
Ishani blinked. "We just ran into him. It was a coincidence."
"Sure. That's what you said the last two times too, right?" he said lightly—but the edge in his voice was impossible to miss.
She turned to him fully now, coffee forgotten in her hands.
"Wait. Are you… mad?"
"No," he laughed—too quickly. "Why would I be mad? You're allowed to talk to whoever you want."
"But that's not what you're saying."
"I'm not saying anything," he replied, flashing her the same boyish grin he always used to dodge seriousness. "You're reading into it."
But his jaw had clenched. And his eyes weren't smiling.
A silence stretched between them.
Ishani looked down at her coffee, unsure why her chest felt tight all of a sudden.
"You're weird today," she muttered, trying to lighten the mood again.
He looked at her one more time—long and unreadable.
"Yeah. Maybe I am."
Then he pushed off from the counter, dumped the rest of his coffee in the sink, and walked out without another word.
She stood there alone, frowning at the empty doorway.
She didn't know what had just happened.
But something had shifted.
And she wasn't sure if she liked it.
Saikiran at His Desk
Saikiran sat at his desk, headphones around his neck, staring blankly at his screen.
The lines of code blurred together—he'd typed the same three functions twice and deleted them both times.
He hated this.
Hated feeling this way.
Hated how Dhiraj's face kept flashing in his mind like a glitch he couldn't debug.
Ishani is always sarcastic with him.
But last night? She looked... flattered. Caught off-guard in a good way.
He didn't like that.
He didn't like that at all.
He knew it wasn't fair—she hadn't done anything wrong.
But that didn't stop the sting.
He tugged his hoodie sleeves down, jaw tight.
He hadn't meant to be cold to her this morning.
But something inside him had coiled too tight, and he didn't know how to loosen it.
She was just... slipping away, wasn't she?
And the worst part?
He didn't even have a right to be mad.
Not when he'd spent so long pretending he didn't feel anything at all.
Ishani, Later That Morning — Messaging Koyel
Ishani sat in her chair, side-eyes on Saikiran across the floor. He wasn't looking her way. Not once.
She tapped open her chat with Koyel.
Ishani:
something weird happened this morning.
Koyel:
weird like "he confessed"? or weird like "he's acting like a weirdo"?
Ishani:
definitely option 2.
he's being… idk… cold. and moody.
not in the usual saikiran way.
Koyel:
what did u say?
did u poke the bear?
Ishani:
i just asked if he was ok.
he made a weird comment about dhiraj.
like subtle. but sharp.
Koyel:
lol jealous???
Ishani:
that's what I thought for a sec
but then he brushed it off and LEFT. just walked off mid-convo.
Koyel:
ok that's not normal.
mr. clingy turned cold shoulder.
he's definitely spiraling.
dude's rattled.
Ishani:
why tho??
I mean... we're just friends.
Koyel:
are you?
Ishani stared at that last message.
Are we?
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.
Then withdrew.
She locked the phone and looked up at Saikiran again.
Still not looking at her.
And somehow… that bothered her more than it should have.
Office Pantry – Around Lunch Time
The breakroom smelled of reheated biryani and instant coffee. A couple of colleagues sat chatting near the microwave, but the air buzzed with quiet.
Ishani stepped in, holding her tiffin. She noticed Saikiran already seated by the window, poking at his food with a spoon, earbuds hanging loose around his neck.
She hesitated for a moment—then walked over.
"Hey," she said lightly. "Mind if I join?"
He shrugged, still not looking up. "Free country."
Ishani sat across him, brow furrowed. "Okay... what's your deal today?"
"My deal?" He laughed once, bitterly. "Nothing. Everything's great."
"You've barely spoken to me since last night."
"I'm just tired, Ishani. Let it go."
"No. You don't get to do that. You don't get to be all sulky and cold and then expect me not to ask why."
His eyes snapped up. "Why do you care?"
The sharpness caught her off guard. "What?"
"Why do you care?" he repeated, lower this time. "You laughed with him."
"Who? Dhiraj?"
"Yeah, Dhiraj. You smiled like he was some goddamn prince from a Netflix drama and—forget it."
Ishani blinked. "Saikiran… are you seriously upset about that?"
He leaned back, shaking his head. "No. Of course not. I mean, why would I be? You can laugh with whoever you want. Buy consoles for whoever you want."
She froze. "You said you wouldn't bring that up."
"I lied."
A silence stretched between them. Saikiran sighed, softer this time.
"I'm not mad, Ishani. I'm just… I don't know what I'm doing anymore."
Ishani's voice was quiet. "We're friends."
He met her eyes, finally. And for a moment, his expression softened.
"Yeah. That's the problem."
Ishani was stunned. Saikiran took his plate and kept in the counter and left the cafeteria.
'That brooding, bratty guy' Ishani thought.
Late Afternoon, Office – Ishani's POV
The office hummed quietly—soft clacks of keyboards, muted phone conversations, and the occasional shuffle of papers. But none of it registered for Ishani.
She stared at her screen, the words before her blurring into a meaningless mess of code and columns. Saikiran hadn't replied to her last message. Not even a dot of a typing bubble. She wasn't sure if he was angry, upset, or just... being Saikiran.
The cafeteria scene from earlier kept circling back—his forced smile, the clipped words, the way he didn't look at her when he said he was fine.
He wasn't fine. She knew it.
She minimized the window and opened WhatsApp. The thread with Saikiran sat silently near the top. Her last message:
Ishani: You good? Looked like you weren't.
No reply. Two blue ticks.
She tapped out a new message, paused, then deleted it. Rewrote it.
Ishani: Hey.
She hit send. Waited.
Then quickly followed with:
Ishani: Can we talk? Somewhere private maybe? Just us.
Her fingers hovered nervously.
For a moment, she thought he'd leave her on read again.
But then the notification came.
Saikiran: When?
Ishani: Now.
A minute passed. She watched the screen, heart knocking just a little harder.
Saikiran: Okay. Rooftop.
That was it. No emoji, no question, no snarky follow-up.
The rooftop was quiet, high above the chaos of the city. The wind tousled Ishani's hair as she leaned against the railing, gazing at the hazy skyline. Saikiran stood beside her, hands in his pockets, shoulders tense.
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye.
"You've been quiet," she said, breaking the silence.
He shrugged. "Not much to say."
"Liar." She folded her arms. "You've been acting strange ever since yesterday."
Saikiran didn't respond.
"You got weird when Dhiraj showed up. Admit it."
He gave a hollow laugh. "What's to admit? I didn't realize I was supposed to clap every time some random guy flirts with you."
Ishani blinked, turning toward him. "He wasn't flirting."
"He called you nice. Said you deserved the best," he turned to her now, eyes sharp, voice low. "That's not nothing."
Her jaw tightened. "So? Why does it matter to you?"
Saikiran exhaled hard, running a hand through his hair. "Forget it."
"No, I won't," she stepped closer. "Why are you being like this?"
"I'm not being like anything," he said, but his voice cracked with frustration.
"You were fine before. Now you're… guarded. Distant. And then you say things like that in the car, then pretend it didn't happen."
He looked away. "I shouldn't have said anything."
"Then why did you?"
Silence. Just the hum of the city beneath them.
Ishani waited.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter. "Because… sometimes it's hard watching you laugh like that with someone else."
Her breath caught.
He didn't look at her. "I know what we are. What we aren't. I'm not expecting—anything. But don't ask me to pretend I'm okay with it."
She stared at him, caught between disbelief and a sudden, fluttering heat in her chest. "You're not serious."
He met her eyes. "Aren't I?"
The distance between them was a whisper now.
Ishani swallowed. "I thought… we were just friends."
He gave a small, bitter smile. "Then maybe I've been a fool."
She took a step back instinctively, unsure what to say, unsure how she felt.
He noticed. "Don't worry. I won't make it awkward."
"You already did," she said, too fast, too defensively.
Saikiran nodded once. "Goodnight, Ishani."
And he turned to leave, his silhouette fading into the stairwell shadows before she could stop him.
She remained, staring out into the night, arms tight around herself. The wind had picked up. But it wasn't the cold that made her shiver.
*****to be continued*****