The office was unusually quiet when Meera walked in the next morning. She liked it that way—early hours gave her time to collect her thoughts before the chaos began. As always, she neatly arranged her desk, set her files in order, and opened her laptop to review the client proposal that had to be finalized by evening.
But of course, the peace didn't last.
"Good morning, partner!" Aarav's cheerful voice broke through like an alarm clock set too early. He dropped his bag on his chair with a dramatic sigh and leaned over Meera's desk. "Ready for the battlefield?"
Meera didn't even look up. "It's only a battlefield because you keep firing blanks."
Aarav clutched his chest. "Ouch. And here I thought you'd miss me when I wasn't here yesterday afternoon."
"I didn't," Meera said flatly, though the corners of her mouth almost twitched. Almost.
Aarav pulled up his chair and began shuffling through papers on his own desk, humming loudly—deliberately off-key. It was a habit he had developed just to get on Meera's nerves, and he knew it worked.
"Could you not?" she snapped after three minutes.
"Not what?" he asked innocently.
"That noise you call singing."
"It's called music, Meera. You should try appreciating art sometime."
Meera glared at him, then went back to her laptop. Aarav grinned. Score one for him.
---
The War of Small Things
As the morning dragged on, their petty battles continued. Aarav stole Meera's stapler and held it hostage, demanding a coffee in exchange. Meera retaliated by hiding his phone charger in the supply cabinet. He switched the sugar in her coffee with salt; she "accidentally" forwarded his half-done draft report to their boss, cc'ing the entire team.
Their colleagues, seated around them, were having the time of their lives.
"Seriously, you two are like an old married couple," whispered Priya, one of their teammates, as she passed Meera at the printer.
Meera rolled her eyes. "Don't even joke about that."
But when she returned to her desk, she found Aarav leaning back in his chair, smirking. "Heard that? Husband and wife. We do have the vibe, don't we?"
Meera slapped the stapler—just retrieved—onto his desk. "More like murderer and victim."
The office burst into laughter. Even Aarav couldn't help but chuckle.
---
The Client Meeting Disaster
By afternoon, the tension shifted. They had a high-stakes client presentation scheduled, and Meera was determined to impress. She had rehearsed the pitch twice, made color-coded slides, and prepared for every possible question.
Aarav, on the other hand, showed up with a crooked tie and his usual grin.
"You look like you just rolled out of bed," Meera muttered as they walked into the conference room.
"And you look like you rehearsed this in your sleep," Aarav shot back. "Balance, Meera. Balance."
The presentation began smoothly. Meera opened with a polished introduction, her voice steady, her slides crisp. Aarav followed with a section on strategy, adding humor to keep the clients engaged. For once, it seemed they might actually pull it off without embarrassing each other.
Until Aarav's laptop decided to freeze mid-slide.
The screen went black. He tapped the keys, shook the mouse, even whispered threats at the machine, but nothing worked. The room fell silent. The client raised an eyebrow.
Meera's jaw tightened. "This is exactly why I told you to check your system earlier," she hissed.
"Relax, I've got this," Aarav whispered back. Then, in a moment of reckless improvisation, he launched into a dramatic verbal pitch, pacing the room like a TED Talk speaker. He gestured wildly, cracked jokes, and somehow managed to keep the clients laughing instead of groaning.
Meera wanted to strangle him. And yet… she couldn't deny it. He was good.
When it was her turn again, she smoothly brought the focus back to numbers, tying Aarav's humor to actual data. For a while, everything clicked. They were like two parts of a puzzle—different shapes, but somehow fitting.
Until Meera slipped.
She quoted the wrong figure. A big one. The client caught it instantly. "Wait, didn't your report mention twenty-five percent, not thirty-five?"
Meera froze. Her stomach dropped.
But Aarav, without missing a beat, leaned forward and said, "Yes, you're right. The initial report said twenty-five. What Meera meant was that with our new approach, the potential growth could reach thirty-five. She was getting ahead of herself."
The client nodded, reassured.
Meera shot Aarav a sideways glance—half gratitude, half annoyance. He winked at her like it was nothing.
---
After the Storm
When the meeting ended, their boss congratulated them. "Good teamwork. I like the energy between you two."
"See?" Aarav whispered as they left the room. "Energy. Chemistry. Vibes. Even the boss agrees."
Meera gave him a tight smile. "Don't let it go to your head." But secretly, she felt a strange warmth. He had saved her, and she hated admitting how much that mattered.
---
Evening Chaos
By the time the workday ended, the office was buzzing with gossip. Priya and Raj wouldn't stop teasing them about being the "office couple." Someone even changed their team group chat name to "Mr. & Mrs. Presentation."
Aarav found it hilarious. "I like it. Should we send out wedding invites?"
Meera groaned. "You're insufferable."
But the universe wasn't done with them yet.
When they finally left the office, it was raining. Hard. The streets were flooded, and the metro was delayed. Aarav, ever the opportunist, twirled his umbrella with a grin.
"Looks like we're stuck together. Romantic, isn't it?"
Meera tried to hail a cab, but none stopped. Finally, with no choice, she ducked under Aarav's umbrella.
The walk to the metro was chaotic—dodging puddles, bumping into people, Aarav deliberately splashing water near her shoes just to make her squeal.
"Grow up, Aarav!" she shouted, hopping over a puddle.
"Where's the fun in that?" he laughed.
At one point, the umbrella slipped, and rain poured over both of them. They stood there, drenched, laughing despite themselves. For a brief moment, their eyes met. Something shifted—small but undeniable.
Meera quickly looked away, heart racing. Aarav smirked, but his expression softened when he saw the flush on her cheeks.
---
The Last Samosa
By the time they reached the metro station, both were starving. A small kiosk sold hot samosas, and Aarav rushed to buy some. But when he returned, only one was left.
"Perfect," he said, holding it out. "We'll share."
"No way," Meera said, reaching for it. "I'm not eating your half-bitten samosa."
"Fine. We'll settle this like adults." He held it above his head, out of her reach.
"Aarav!" Meera jumped, trying to snatch it. In the struggle, the samosa fell—straight into a puddle.
They stared at it. Then, to their own surprise, burst into uncontrollable laughter. Passersby gave them strange looks, but they didn't care.
---
Late Night Reflections
That night, lying in bed, Meera replayed the day in her mind—the arguments, the presentation, the rain, the laughter. She told herself Aarav was annoying, childish, impossible. And yet, for the first time, she wondered what it would be like if he weren't just her colleague.
Aarav, meanwhile, texted Raj: I think I'm in trouble, bro. I might actually like her.
Raj replied with ten laughing emojis and one word: Finally.