Mumbai traffic greeted them like a wall of honking brass. The late-afternoon sun slid between towers of glass and concrete, turning windshields into tiny mirrors that flashed light into Nacikate Rao's already pounding head. His tie hung crooked, his briefcase bumped against his knee, and one hand remained clamped around the sleeve of the hooded menace now sulking in the passenger seat.
Mehul Shah was chewing on a straw from an empty cold-coffee cup. Every few seconds he tapped the dashboard as though testing the car's security system.
"Do you mind?" Nacikate snapped. "That dashboard costs more than your laptop."
Mehul grinned. "Relax, uncle. I'm stress-testing your airbags."
"I am not your uncle."
"Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that, partner."
Nacikate gripped the steering wheel until the leather squeaked. The word partner echoed unpleasantly; somewhere in a government server, that label was now literally attached to his name. He imagined auditors reading it aloud in meetings and felt his soul wilt.
They crawled through a knot of rickshaws and delivery bikes. At every signal, street vendors thrust cold-water bottles through the window gap. Mehul bought one, twisted the cap open, and offered it across the console. "Hydrate, alpha man. Rage raises blood pressure."
"I'm fine."
"You're vibrating like a washing machine. Drink."
Nacikate took the bottle solely to end the conversation, gulped once, and instantly regretted acknowledging the other man's existence.
By the time they reached Bharat National Bank's head office, dusk had turned the building's mirrored façade into a single sheet of molten orange. Security guards straightened as Nacikate strode past, radiating a sort of weary authority that made people clear corridors instinctively. Mehul trailed behind, balancing two laptops and looking far too pleased with himself.
"Nice place," he said, glancing at the marble floor. "Feels like a temple for spreadsheets."
"It's a bank," Nacikate said flatly. "Try not to hack anything."
"No promises."
They stepped into the elevator. Muzak hummed. The numbers climbed. Nacikate caught their reflection in the mirrored wall—him in a crumpled suit, Mehul in a hoodie that declared 404 Feelings Not Found. The visual contrast hurt his aesthetic sense.
Mehul leaned closer to the mirror and made a face. "We look good together, admit it."
Nacikate inhaled slowly. "I have endured market crashes less irritating than you."
"Aw, you do talk about feelings."
The doors slid open before Nacikate could answer.
The compliance floor buzzed with the low roar of keyboards and air-conditioning. When the pair entered, conversations faltered. Analysts looked up, blinked at the sight of their immaculate boss dragging a hoodie-clad stranger, and immediately pretended to refocus on their screens.
"Sir," one brave soul ventured, "is that—um—guest authorized?"
"No," Nacikate said. "He's the reason the alarm went off."
Mehul waved cheerfully. "Hi. Co-founder, apparently."
A few employees exchanged confused looks. Somewhere a printer jammed in sympathy.
Ignoring the whispers, Nacikate marched to the glass-walled conference room and shut the door with military precision. "Sit," he ordered.
Mehul dropped into a swivel chair and began spinning slowly. "So, what's the plan, bossman?"
"The plan," Nacikate said, opening his laptop, "is to reverse whatever bureaucratic abomination you created."
He logged into the secure government portal. The login page now greeted him with an animated banner:
Welcome to Shah–Rao Associates Pvt Ltd!Your partnership makes India stronger.
Mehul snorted. "They even gave us a slogan. Touching."
Nacikate rubbed his temples. "Don't speak. Don't breathe. Just watch."
Lines of official text filled the screen—GSTIN numbers, account IDs, verification seals. Each one included both their names. He opened the bond-verification file. A digital certificate appeared, complete with signatures and timestamps, cheerfully confirming a "permanent collaboration under Section Beta-Alpha Cooperative Regulation."
"How—how is this even legally possible?" he demanded.
Mehul tilted his head. "Probably because your system auto-paired the nearest valid pheromone and biometric data. Beta me, alpha you. Congratulations. We're statistically compatible."
"This isn't compatibility, it's identity theft wearing marriage papers!"
"Eh, semantics."
An email notification pinged. Nacikate clicked it and immediately wished he hadn't.
From: HR DepartmentSubject: Welcome Package for Newly Bonded Partners
Attached were digital forms titled Joint Medical Coverage and Team Building Retreat Registration. A pink footer proclaimed #LoveYourWorkplace.
Mehul leaned over his shoulder. "Free retreat! I vote Goa."
Nacikate closed the laptop with a snap. "You're coming with me to IT. We're scrubbing every record."
"Field trip number two," Mehul said, standing. "At this rate I'll need a company T-shirt."
They crossed the floor again, the murmur of gossip following like a tide. In the server room, rows of blinking machines cast a sterile blue glow over their faces. The hum of processors filled the silence between them. Nacikate plugged his system into the diagnostic console and began typing commands with furious precision.
Mehul watched, arms folded. "You're fast. For a banker."
"I was coding before you were learning to bypass login screens."
"Ouch." He smiled. "I like the fight in you."
"Stop talking."
"I mean it's impressive. You multitask rage and syntax."
"Stop. Talking."
Mehul fell silent, but the grin stayed. The cursor blinked on the screen, waiting. Nacikate entered the final command and hit Run.
The monitor froze, then produced a single line of text:
Error 403: Entity Cannot Be Unlinked During Active GST Filing Period.
For a heartbeat they both stared at it.
Mehul broke the silence first. "So… temporary problem?"
Nacikate exhaled through clenched teeth. "It means we're stuck until filing season ends."
"Which is—?"
"Thirty days."
Mehul's smile widened until it reached chaos-artist levels. "Perfect. Plenty of time for team bonding."
Nacikate turned slowly, every syllable measured. "Mr. Shah, I have survived currency reforms, audit raids, and six finance ministers. Do not test the limits of my patience."
"Too late," Mehul said brightly. "Already filed under long-term assets."
Outside the server room, the office lights dimmed for closing hours. Inside, an Alpha and a Beta stood surrounded by humming machines and the faint scent of burnt coffee, staring at the error message that had accidentally tied their lives together.
Nacikate rubbed a hand down his face. "I'll fix this."
Mehul leaned against a cabinet, casual as gravity. "Sure you will, partner. See you tomorrow for our first joint audit."
He strolled out whistling the opening bars of a patriotic jingle, leaving Nacikate alone with the blinking cursor and the distinct realization that fiscal year 2025 was about to be a very long year.