On the forty-sixth morning, everything broke its pattern.
She stood at the biometric machine like she always did—bag on one shoulder, eyes fixed on the glowing screen, pretending she wasn't aware of the presence behind her.
She was.
She always was.
The air shifted.
That familiar, quiet confidence settled just a step behind her.
She inhaled slowly.
Normal, she told herself.
Just punch in. One minute. Then go.
The machine beeped.
And then—
"Good morning."
Her fingers froze.
Her first thought wasn't excitement.
It was disbelief.
He's not talking to me.
Obviously not.
She didn't turn around.
Didn't respond.
Maybe someone else had arrived.
Maybe he was greeting someone behind her.
Maybe her mind was finally playing tricks on her.
She stepped aside after punching in, heart steadying itself back into place.
Then she looked around.
The corridor was empty.
No interns.
No colleagues.
No hurried footsteps.
Just her.
And him.
Her breath caught.
She turned back slowly, confusion written plainly across her face.
"Uh… did you wish me?" she asked, her voice softer than she intended, unsure, almost embarrassed for even asking.
He smiled.
Not the polite, professional one she'd imagined for weeks—but something warmer. Easier. Confident without being intimidating.
"Yes," he said simply.
Then, with a slight tilt of his head, "We weren't introduced officially. I thought I should introduce myself."
Her mind blanked.
Forty-five days of imagined conversations, and this was the moment she lost every prepared word.
"Oh," she said quickly. Too quickly.
Then, trying to recover, "Oh… okay."
She straightened, suddenly very aware of herself—her posture, her voice, her existence.
"I'm Aakrati," she said, forcing calm into her tone, a small smile forming despite her nerves.
"Nice to meet you."
He nodded, the ease still untouched.
"Hello, I'm Arsh," he said, extending the moment just enough to make it real.
"Nice to meet you, Aakrati."
Hearing her name from him—said so naturally—did something to her.
That was it.
No dramatic pause.
No lingering conversation.
And somehow, that made it worse.
Before her thoughts could betray her, she turned and walked toward her desk—steps measured, expression carefully neutral.
The moment she sat down, the breath she'd been holding escaped her in a quiet sigh.
Her hands trembled.
Her heart didn't.
It soared.
She stared at her screen without seeing anything, a ridiculous smile threatening to give her away.
He talked to me.
He introduced himself.
Seven clouds weren't enough.
For the rest of the day, she moved through the office like someone floating just above the ground—doing her work, answering questions, nodding when required.
But inside—
Inside, the silence she'd lived in for forty-five days had finally been broken.
And nothing—absolutely nothing—felt the same anymore.