The rooftop restaurant looked like someone had taken a Pinterest board and hit "make it real." It was all soft fairy lights and lazy jazz - like someone tried to make small talk with the sky and got bored halfway. Senior editors, new hires, and department heads drifted between buffet stations, clinking mocktails that tried too hard to taste like actual drinks.
I found a spot beside Kanika at the corner of the long table - well, makeshift long, made out of many small ones. A custom I find unnecessary. Everyone's engrossed in their own conversations, but no, the entire team must sit together like we're a family from a mid-budget TV show. Across from us sat Ryan - the marketing guy Kanika kept pushing into my orbit - and Shlok, who I absolutely did not look at the moment he arrived.
Kanika had insisted we sit together. Which meant she also had a front-row seat to my awkwardness throughout the dinner, why am I even friends with her?
"So, Shlok," she began, leaning forward with a grin that spelled trouble in at least four languages, "you said you're into music. Do you sing, or do you play any instruments?"
I shot her a look. Subtlety had never been her strong suit.
Shlok gave a small shrug, sipping from his glass. "A bit of both, I guess. I used to perform at open mics during college. It continued after that. Nothing major."
Kanika said, chin in her hand, eyes flicking toward Shlok. "So... musician by night, editor by day? Intriguing."
He chuckled, almost shyly. "Editing pays rent. Music keeps me sane."
"Hahaha, that's interesting" she laughed dramatically, I fight an urge to roll my eyes at her, taking a sip of her drink, she goes "By the way? Navya loves open mics. Don't you, Nav?
I froze, my drink halfway to my mouth. If stares could combust, Kanika would be a pile of ash.
She continued "Which song you were mentioning you heard live at a cafe, and that stuck in your head? What was that melody?" She rubs her forehead pretending to remember the melody. I am going to kill her tonight.
She knows. Of course she knows. And of course she brings it up now.
My brain went into emergency mode. What if I denied it? He didn't mention that day. Maybe he didn't recognize me. maybe he didn't get a look at my face in that poorly lit cafe. Yes. That must be it. Just lie.
Kanika shook me by the shoulder. "Where's your head at?"
Ryan perked up. "I never knew you liked music. I have concert tickets, if you are interested, we can go" He smiled warmly.
Why are people suddenly interested in my likes and dislikes? I glanced at Shlok - he looked uncomfortable, fingers tightening slightly around his glass.
Maybe this conversation is making him uncomfortable.
Should I change the topic?
"Yeah, no, what? Music is overrated."
I facepalmed mentally. Great. Absolutely smooth. Offend the guy who's clearly passionate about music.
"I… appreciate it, but concert is a bit much for me." I corrected myself weakly.
Trying to recover, I changed the topic. "Oh, I remember - I need your input on that new marketing campaign."
"Yes, we can catch up next week," Ryan offered with a low chuckle.
What's funny?
Kanika, undeterred, turned to Ryan. "So, how's your latest campaign going?"
"Oh, we're in the storyboard stage. Lots of mood boards. Visioning exercises, brand essence drills---"
"Sounds... exhausting," I offered.
Ryan smiled, and for a moment, it was easy. He was good-looking in a polished kind of way, all sharp suits and well-timed humor. We talked campaign briefs, new author tie-ins. I tried to focus, but I could feel Kanika's eyes flicking between us like she was collecting data for an internal report.
"You two work surprisingly well together," she said, way too casually.
I nudged her under the table. She smirked.
Somewhere between me laughing at one of Ryan's jokes and trying not to slap Kanika with a napkin, I noticed Shlok was quiet. Too quiet. His eyes were on his drink, but he wasn't really sipping. Just watching.
Did I offend him earlier? Maybe I should apologize. But what if that's not even it? Maybe it's work. Maybe family. Or maybe he's just tired.
I caught Kanika looking at me, then at Shlok. She didn't say anything. Just raised an eyebrow, like she knew something I didn't.
Buzz. My phone.
Saved by the bell.
"I need to take this," I said, already halfway out.
It was, as I suspected, a bank offering me a personal loan. Because clearly, my credit card history screamed "help this woman."
I stood by the balcony, the city smeared out in blurred lights. I was tucking my phone back into my pocket when I heard footsteps behind me.
Shlok.
He pulled out a cigarette and leaned against the railing. The flame from his lighter briefly lit up his face - amber and shadow.
I turned toward him. "Seriously? Is that still considered cool?"
He glanced sideways, amused. "Bad habit. Don't tell others."
"Unless it's marijuana, nobody would care. But you gotta be careful around me, I'm your peer with judgmental eyes and a strong sense of lung preservation."
He laughed - low and easy. The tension softened.
"Wow. You have a very specific way of scolding people."
"It's part of my charm," I said dryly. Then, with a tilt of my head, "You know it's a terrible habit, right?"
He exhaled, the smoke curling up and out. "Yeah. I know."
He walked over to the bin and stubbed the cigarette out, tossing it in.
Okay. That... wasn't expected.
I waited, hesitating. Should I say something? Apologize?
I must have looked weird just standing there fidgeting because he smiled - softly amused.
"See you tomorrow, Navya."
He turned and walked away.
Wait. I'm not coming to the office tomorrow. Didn't I tell everyone that?
Ah well. He was already gone.
I sighed and looked up at the starless sky, feeling tired, looking forward to going back to my bed.