One month into the overseas project.
The new office still smelled faintly of fresh paint and new furniture. The walls gleamed white, the glass partitions were spotless, and the carpet was that strange gray-blue that tried very hard to look “professional.”
Sana had gotten used to the rhythm of life here—different city, different food, even the way the sunlight hit the streets felt alien—but the one constant was Arjun.
Somehow, in just one month, he had gone from “the infuriatingly composed colleague from X branch” to her best friend. Not the casual “let’s grab lunch” kind of friend. No. The teasing, eye-rolling, “you annoy me but I can’t survive this without you” kind of best friend.
Their daily routine had turned into an odd kind of comedy show:
He always stole her coffee creamer.
She always replaced his pens with ones that didn’t work.
He never laughed out loud, but his raised eyebrow counted as a victory.
She laughed too much, usually at her own jokes, which irritated him endlessly.
And yet, neither of them complained.
That evening, after a meeting that dragged on for two hours longer than it should have, they walked together toward the elevators. Sana was ranting about the presentation.
“…and honestly, if that guy used one more pie chart, I would have walked out. I mean, we get it, you know Excel. Bravo. Clap for yourself.”
Arjun gave her one of his side looks. “You say that now, but tomorrow you’ll be remaking his charts to ‘make them look less like a funeral.’”
Sana gasped, mock-offended. “Excuse me, my charts have flair. They sparkle.”
“They give people headaches,” he corrected.
Before she could retort, someone stepped directly into their path.
She was tall, polished, with glossy dark hair and a confidence that seemed to fill the entire hallway. Her heels clicked against the floor like punctuation marks.
“Hey, Arjun,” the woman said smoothly, her voice carrying just the right amount of charm. She didn’t spare Sana a glance. “I was wondering if you’d like to grab dinner sometime? Just the two of us.”
Sana froze mid-step.
Oh. Oh.
Her head snapped toward Arjun, then back at the woman, then back at Arjun again. This was better than TV. Her entire face lit up like she had just stumbled into the juiciest subplot of the year.
She leaned in dramatically, stage-whispering, “Say yes. Please say yes.”
Arjun gave her a flat look, his lips twitching like he was trying very hard not to sigh. “Why exactly are you so happy about this?”
“Because!” Sana clasped her hands under her chin, eyes wide with fake innocence. “You’ll get a girlfriend, and she and I will become best friends. We’ll hang out, gossip endlessly, and complain about you behind your back. It’ll be glorious.”
The woman laughed softly, clearly entertained by Sana’s antics. “Well, she seems fun. So, what do you say, Arjun?”
Arjun didn’t even hesitate. “No.”
The sound of Sana’s gasp echoed down the hallway. She spun toward him, scandalized. “WHAT? Why no?!”
“Because I’m not interested.” His tone was cool, almost bored, as he pressed the elevator button.
“You’re impossible,” Sana huffed, throwing her arms up. “Do you realize what you just did? I had the perfect plan! Me, your girlfriend, secret gossip alliance—ruined!”
The elevator dinged, but Arjun didn’t smile. His jaw tightened, just a fraction. “I don’t need anyone getting close to me just so they can talk about me behind my back.”
Sana blinked. The humor slipped right out of her expression. His voice wasn’t playful. There was an edge there, sharp enough to sting.
“Hey,” she said carefully, her tone softer now. “I was joking—”
“Maybe you should stop making those jokes.” His words were quiet but heavy. Without waiting, he stepped into the elevator.
Sana followed slowly, arms crossed, but her brain was buzzing.
He wasn’t just annoyed.
He was angry.
Not roll-his-eyes, I’m-tired-of-your-sarcasm angry. This was different. It was guarded, like she’d poked at something raw.
She leaned against the elevator wall, stealing a glance at him. His face had slipped back into its usual unreadable calm, but she’d seen it. The crack in the armor.
And suddenly, she wasn’t thinking about the tall glossy-haired woman anymore.
She was thinking about him.
Why did he shut down like that? Why did a simple joke hit so hard? And why—why on earth—did his anger make her even more curious about him?
The elevator doors slid open, breaking the silence. He stepped out first, not looking back.
For once, Sana didn’t follow with another joke.
She just watched him walk ahead, her smile gone, replaced with something she didn’t quite recognize.
Excitement. But not the kind she’d been expecting.
The wrong kind of excitement.
---
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