Day 2
15 July 2025, Tuesday
Jaipur,
10:45 PM
Today was the first proper workday and I already feel like I'm in way over my head. We got thrown into small teams right after the morning stand-up to fix a dashboard bug that was breaking on mobile. I ended up in the same group as Aarohi, just four of us plus the senior dev hovering in the background. She went straight to the whiteboard like it was her personal territory, drawing wireframes with quick, confident strokes, explaining the flexbox collapse without once second-guessing herself. I kept quiet at first because I didn't want to sound dumb in front of her, but then she asked if anyone else was seeing a delay in the data fetch. The room went quiet for a second and I finally spoke up, saying I thought the API response was lagging on mobile simulation. She turned to me, looked me right in the eye, and said "You're right. I missed that. Good catch." Just like that. Five words. No big deal to her, but to me it felt like the air got sucked out of the room for a moment. I managed a weak "Thanks" and immediately buried my face in my laptop, heart pounding so hard I thought everyone could hear it. The rest of the afternoon we worked side by side — her tweaking CSS, me testing endpoints — and every time she leaned over to point at my screen I caught this faint citrusy clean smell that's been stuck in my head ever since. She doesn't talk much outside of work stuff, but when she does it's so direct, no filler words, no apologies. At one point someone suggested a lazy fix and she just shook her head and said "That'll break accessibility. Let's not." No drama, just fact. I love how she doesn't soften herself to make other people comfortable. I came back on the metro again, earphones in but no music, just replaying those five words on loop until they started sounding fake. I ironed my blue shirt tonight even though I've worn it a hundred times before — suddenly it feels like it matters. I'm going to wear it tomorrow. Maybe she'll notice. Maybe she won't. Either way I want to feel like someone who could maybe earn another "good catch" someday. This is ridiculous and I know it. I've known her for two days. We've barely spoken. And yet I'm sitting here writing in a diary like some hopeless idiot because for the first time in forever I feel something that isn't just going through the motions. I feel nervous and hopeful and stupidly alive. I'm going to try talking to her tomorrow. Nothing big. Just a normal sentence. If she answers, great. If she doesn't, I'll live. But I want to try. Because she makes me want to be better at being me. And that's new. Goodnight, diary. And goodnight to the girl who has no idea she's turning my ordinary days into something I actually look forward to.