Monday mornings at Codelink usually blended into one sleepy blur where developers shuffling in with cutting chai that smelled stronger than their will to live, testers blinking at their screens as Jira loaded, and the AC humming valiantly against Mumbai’s sticky, determined humidity. Keyboards clacked, someone’s headphones leaked Bollywood lo-fi, and the pantry brewed its signature overboiled coffee that tasted like ambition and regret.

But this Monday?

This Monday had a different pulse, subtle yet almost invisible, but very real.

Maybe it was the sunlight spilling through the smeared office windows, warm enough to feel hopeful. Maybe it was the scent of fresh rain still clinging to everyone’s clothes. Maybe it was the buzz of the floor, louder than usual, carrying whispers and sideways glances.

Or maybe it was just the two people sitting at opposite ends of the office, where Radha was on the QA side with her dark hair still damp from the drizzle, Sameer in the dev pit tapping his pen against the desk, and both pretending to read emails, both secretly waiting for a certain Slack notification.

It wasn’t written anywhere, but the air knew.
Something had shifted.
And everyone else was about to notice.

Radha logged in early for the first time in… ever. Her hair was still slightly damp from the drizzle outside, leaving soft, rain-scented curls resting against her scarf. She told herself it was just another Monday. Another sprint. Another backlog waiting to judge her life choices.

But her brain clearly disagreed.

Every Slack ping made her pulse jump like she’d swallowed espresso straight. Every Jira update had her scanning for one name in particular. She caught herself smiling at her monitor - smiling - and immediately forced her face into a stern “QA-at-work” expression.

Priya, of course, spotted everything.

“Who’s making QA so cheerful this early?” she chimed, sliding into her seat with suspicious enthusiasm.

Radha didn’t turn. “Caffeine.”

Priya raised an eyebrow. “Right. Caffeine with dimples and a hoodie, perhaps?”

“Priya....”

“Don’t bother. You have post-date glow.”

“I have post-weekend exhaustion.”

“Sure you do.” Priya leaned in, eyes sparkling with gossip hunger. “So? Was it awkward?”

“No.”

“Cute?”

“…Yes.”

Priya squealed so loudly she had to cover her mouth. “I knew it. Okay, spill. What happened? Details. Dialogue. Background music. Everything.”

Radha sighed in defeat. “We had coffee. We talked. We laughed. That’s literally all.”

“That’s all? Girl, you two have been flirting through Jira for two months!”

“It wasn’t flirting.”

Priya blinked. “You called his pull request ‘a work of art.’ That is not professional terminology.”

Radha groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Why are you like this?”

Priya beamed, patting her shoulder. “Because someone needs to maintain proper documentation of your romance arc. Think of me as emotional QA.”

By noon, both Radha and Sameer were officially “back to work” or at least doing convincing impressions of people who were.

Atlas 2.1 had entered the dreaded integration phase, which meant the office felt less like a workplace and more like a war zone. QA was buried under regression tests. Dev was frantically putting out fires they swore weren’t their fault. Slack channels buzzed like angry beehives. Jira overflowed with tickets labeled urgent, critical, and please fix before we all cry.

But beneath all that corporate chaos, something between them had undeniably changed.

When Sameer tagged her in a ticket—

Sameer K: @Radha N needs QA confirmation on the rollback test. Should I push the patch?

Her reply came unusually fast, fingers flying before she could think twice.

Radha N: Yes, you may proceed, Mr. Kapoor.

A moment later

Sameer K: Mr. Kapoor? Since when are we formal?

Radha N: Just maintaining professionalism.

Sameer K: And failing magnificently.

Radha N: Touché.

Across the QA bay, a couple of heads turned. Priya caught one of the looks and smirked, her expression screaming I know exactly what’s going on, and I will be insufferable about it.

Radha pretended not to notice but her smile, small and helpless, gave her away.

At 3:00 p.m., everyone piled into the sprint demo call, the weekly ritual where half the team appeared as frozen pixels, the other half stared dead-eyed into their webcams, silently questioning their life choices.

Rohit kicked things off in his usual monotone, flipping through slides full of KPIs no one emotionally connected with. “Alright, team, let’s begin. Sameer, walk us through the new API flow.”

Sameer unmuted, sounding calm in that practiced developer way. “Sure. The main enhancement is in our async handling. Radha’s team validated the regression suite last week, and...”

“Good, good,” Rohit cut in, nodding like a dashboard bobblehead. “QA, anything to add?”

Radha unmuted smoothly. “Yes. We tested multiple iterations. Sameer’s patch reduced the failure rate by eighty percent. It’s stable for now.”

“Excellent,” Rohit said, beaming like he’d coded it himself. “Great collaboration between QA and Dev this sprint.”

On two separate screens, miles apart in spirit but inches apart in thought, Radha and Sameer both allowed the faintest hint of a smile though small, quick, but unmistakable.

A shared moment.
A quiet acknowledgment.
The kind of smile two people wear when they know something the rest of the call doesn’t.

After the call ended, Radha leaned back in her chair, letting out a long breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her monitor finally went silent, the tiny green borders fading from around everyone’s faces.

Priya swiveled her chair around, eyebrows raised in a full dramatic flourish. “You two have chemistry,” she whispered, like she was revealing a corporate scandal.

Radha groaned. “Please stop.”

“I’m serious! You talk like co-leads in a romcom startup drama. Very founders who fall in love while pitching to investors energy.”

“Priya!”

“What? I’m simply observing workplace dynamics. Also, the entire QA bay ships you two now.”

Radha buried her face behind her mug. “Great. Fantastic. I’m transferring to another project. Maybe to HR. Or Facilities.”

Priya patted her shoulder like a supportive villain. “You won’t transfer anywhere. He’s your favorite bug. The one you secretly don’t want fixed.”

Radha peeked at her through her fingers, cheeks warming. “You’re unbearable.”

Priya grinned. “And yet, always correct.”

Later that evening, long after most of the office lights had dimmed and the work chats had gone quiet, Radha’s Slack blinked with a private message.

Sameer K: nice save in the demo today.

She smiled, the compliment warming her more than the chai on her desk.

Radha N: you didn’t need saving. you handled it really well.

A few seconds passed.

Sameer K: still… thanks.

The typing bubble appeared.
Disappeared.
Returned.
Vanished again.

She could almost picture him on the other end — overthinking, typing, deleting, drafting and redrafting.

Then finally

Sameer K: doesn’t it feel… different now?

Radha’s breath hitched just a little. Not in fear, but in recognition. In understanding. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard before she finally typed:

Radha N: yeah. it does.
Radha N: in-progress.

She hit send, leaning back in her chair, feeling the words settle between them — not a confession, not a conclusion, but a quiet, steady beginning.