It didn’t change overnight.
Nothing about them ever did.
But something had begun to show—
not in what they said,
but in what others started to notice.
“You two always come together?”
The question came lightly, almost like a joke.
Saanvi looked up from her desk, mildly confused. “What?”
“The lift,” the colleague smiled. “Same time, every day.”
Siddharth didn’t look up.
“It’s just timing,” he said.
“Yeah?” the colleague raised an eyebrow. “Convenient timing.”
Saanvi smiled, shaking her head. “You’re reading too much into it.”
“Maybe,” they shrugged. “Or maybe not.”
And just like that, the conversation moved on.
But something stayed.
Later that afternoon—
“Do we?” Saanvi asked, glancing sideways.
“Do we what?”
“Come together. Every day.”
A pause.
“…We reach at the same time.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I know.”
She watched him for a second.
“…You’re very good at avoiding questions.”
“Only unnecessary ones.”
She smiled faintly.
“…This one isn’t.”
He didn’t respond.
And somehow—
that felt like an answer.
The teasing didn’t stop.
It never became obvious.
Just small remarks, thrown in between conversations.
“Ask Siddharth, he probably already knows.”
“Or Saanvi—she’ll remind him anyway.”
“You two should just share a desk at this point.”
They laughed it off.
Every time.
Not defensive.
Not embarrassed.
Just… careful.
Evenings felt different now.
Quieter than before.
Not because there was less to say—
but because there was more.
One evening, the office had almost emptied out.
Only a few lights remained, casting long, soft shadows across the desks.
Saanvi sat with her coffee, not really drinking it.
Siddharth was across from her, staring at his screen—but not typing.
“You’ve been quiet,” she said.
A pause.
“So have you.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
She thought for a second.
“…I usually talk.”
“And I usually don’t.”
She smiled slightly.
“Exactly.”
Silence settled between them.
But this time—
it wasn’t as easy.
“You ever think about… changing teams?” she asked suddenly.
The question hung there, unexpected.
Siddharth looked up.
“…Why?”
“No reason,” she said quickly. “Just asking.”
A pause.
“…No.”
“Why not?”
He looked at her for a moment longer than usual.
“…No reason to.”
She nodded.
“Right.”
The silence stretched.
Not uncomfortable.
But not effortless either.
She looked down at her cup.
“…Good.”
He didn’t ask what she meant.
But he understood.
For a second—
it felt like something was about to be said.
Something simple.
Something honest.
But it didn’t happen.
The next day felt… slightly off.
Not wrong.
Just… misaligned.
“Did you send the report?” Siddharth asked.
“I was about to,” Saanvi replied.
“You said that an hour ago.”
She paused, looking at him.
“I’ll send it.”
A small silence.
“…You’re late on it.”
“I know.”
Another pause.
“…You don’t usually delay.”
She exhaled softly.
“I said I’ll send it.”
The words weren’t harsh.
But they weren’t soft either.
He nodded.
“Okay.”
And that was it.
But something shifted.
Slightly.
The space between their desks felt different that day.
Not distant.
Just… aware.
The plant near them didn’t look as bright.
The air felt a little heavier.
Even the lights above flickered once—
just briefly.
No one noticed.
Or maybe they did, but didn’t think much of it.
By evening, the silence had changed.
It wasn’t comfortable anymore.
It wasn’t shared.
It just… existed.
Saanvi packed her bag a little earlier than usual.
“Leaving?” Siddharth asked.
“Yeah.”
A pause.
“…Okay.”
She nodded.
“Don’t stay too late.”
Another pause.
“…You too.”
She walked out.
This time, she didn’t pause at the door.
Siddharth looked at the empty desk beside him.
For a second longer than usual.
He turned back to his screen.
Typed something.
Deleted it.
Typed again.
Stopped.
The lights flickered once more.
Faint.
Almost unnoticeable.
The office felt… tense.
Like something small had gone unsaid for too long.
The next morning—
they reached the lift at the same time.
Of course they did.
“Morning,” Saanvi said.
“Morning.”
A pause.
Neither of them mentioned the day before.
Neither of them needed to.
But the ease wasn’t fully back.
Not yet.
Inside the office, things returned to normal.
On the surface.
Files were shared.
Work was done.
Conversations happened.
But underneath—
there was something quieter.
Something waiting.
Not for a resolution.
Not for a confession.
Just—
for one of them to say something they hadn’t been saying.
And until then—
it stayed there.
Unspoken.
Unresolved.
But undeniably present.
Because sometimes—
what we don’t say
matters more than what we do.