By the time Radha pushed through the glass doors of Codelink’s lobby on Monday morning, her phone was already staging a full-blown coup.
Seventeen unread Slack messages.
Five missed calls from Priya.
And one deeply alarming text that simply read:

Priya: Girl. RUN.

Never a good omen.

She stepped out of the elevator onto the QA floor and instantly felt a weird buzz, a charged flutter. People were gathered in little clusters, whispering, peeking over their monitors, and then jerking their heads away the moment she looked at them.

“Morning,” Radha said, wary.

A chorus of “Morning!” rose back at her, far too bright, far too synchronized, like a cult greeting its chosen one.

Then Priya popped up from behind her desk like a dramatic meerkat.
“Okay,” she said, sprinting over, “before the office rumor engine mangles reality more than usual...”

“What,” Radha cut in, “did I walk into?”

Priya took a breath. “Someone,” she glanced around theatrically, “saw you being dropped off by you-know-who on Friday night.”

Radha blinked. “You-know-who?”

Priya stared. “Sameer Kapoor.... Mr. Hoodie. Jira Casanova. Your unofficial co-lead in life and deliverables, and do I need to send a PowerPoint?”

“Oh my god,” Radha groaned, rubbing her face. “People seriously need hobbies.”

“They tried,” Priya said solemnly. “But apparently your love life is more interesting than last quarter’s hackathon.”

Radha stared at her. “I do not have a,,,,”

Priya held up a hand. “Please. Save your breath. The gossip wildfire has already consumed this floor.”

Radha swallowed. “Okay… how bad is it?”

Priya leaned in, whispering with the tone of someone delivering ancient forbidden lore. “It’s entered Phase Three.”

Radha froze. “There are phases?”

“Yes,” Priya said gravely. “Phase One: Curiosity. Phase Two: Theories. Phase Three…” she paused for effect, “Watercooler Mythology.”

Radha’s eyes widened. “I’m afraid to ask.”

Priya sighed. “Watercooler Mythology is when Dev’s stupid ‘Watercooler Theory’ kicks in, any mildly interesting event in Codelink evolves into myth within forty-eight hours.”

Radha felt dread pool in her stomach. “What’s the myth?”

Priya took a deep breath, bracing herself.
“According to the current official lore…” She glanced around before continuing, “…Sameer serenaded you with a bug-free deployment script before dropping you home in the rain.”

Radha stared at her. Speechless.

Priya added, “Oh! and in one version, he supposedly said, ‘Radha, you’re the only variable I’ll never redefine.’”

Radha slapped her forehead. “I hate everything.”

Priya patted her shoulder sympathetically.
“Welcome to Codelink romance. You can’t hide it. You can only survive it.”

Radha groaned. “This is a nightmare.”

Priya grinned. “Oh, trust me, the developers are having an even bigger meltdown. Dev apparently tried to open a celebratory Google Doc titled ‘Love in the Time of Jira.’”

Radha stared at her in horror.

Priya whispered, “Brace yourself. Kapoor hasn’t arrived yet.”

Across the building, on the Dev floor, Sameer was fighting the same battle except Dev’s version was louder, noisier, and about as accurate as a drunk SQL query.

Dev practically slid into Sameer’s cubicle, chair wheels screeching for dramatic effect.

“BRO,” Dev announced, already grinning like a man who’d discovered top-secret gossip. “Are you and Radha, like… officially in beta?”

Sameer didn’t even glance up from his screen. “I genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh please,” Dev said, leaning in like a conspiracy theorist. “Don’t insult me. The watercooler has spoken.”

Sameer sighed. “The watercooler also believes Rohit once auditioned for Shark Tank.”

Dev slapped the desk. “EXACTLY. High-quality intel.”

Sameer gave him a deadpan stare. “Dev, this is ridiculous.”

Dev crossed his arms triumphantly. “Deflection! Classic stage-two emotional denial. Symptoms include pretending you’re debugging when you’re actually thinking about your crush.”

Sameer pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dev, one day you’re going to die of curiosity. And I won’t attend the funeral.”

Dev ignored him entirely. “So tell me... is this love, or just exceptional cross-team synergy?”

Sameer finally leaned back, unable to stop the tiny smile tugging at his mouth. “It’s neither. It’s… none of your business.”

Dev gasped dramatically. “You’re SMILING. That’s 100 percent confirmation. This is basically a production-ready relationship.”

Sameer laughed under his breath. “You’re unbelievable.”

Dev wagged a finger. “No, Kapoor. You’re unbelievable. I’ve never seen you this nervous. Or this… happy?”

Sameer’s smile faltered into something more real, more vulnerable — something even Dev wasn’t used to seeing.

“I don’t know what it is yet,” he admitted quietly. “But yeah. Something’s happening.”

Dev’s jaw dropped.
“Oh my god. Emotional growth! Someone call HR, this man’s evolving!”

Sameer shoved him lightly. “Get lost.”

Dev spun away in his chair, cackling. “Broooo, the entire office is rooting for you two like it’s IPL finals!”

Sameer shook his head, but the truth lingered in his chest, warm, terrifying, and unmistakable.

Something was happening.
And he wasn’t sure how to stop it or if he even wanted to.

By 11 a.m., it had evolved far beyond harmless gossip; it had become office lore.
A full-fledged narrative.
A myth.
A Bollywood subplot in the middle of Codelink’s sprint cycle.

Someone claimed they’d seen Radha and Sameer having coffee at Blue Bean, conveniently ignoring that Blue Bean served half the staff.
Someone else swore they heard Sameer call her “Radha” instead of “QA” during stand-up, as if that one slip-up signaled imminent wedding bells.
And then came the meme.

No one knew who created it, but the whole company saw it: a badly photoshopped Jira card posted to #FunAtWork, labeled:

Relationship Status: In Progress
Reporter: Dev
Assignee: Destiny

Rohit deleted it in record time, but not before half of Codelink had taken screenshots like it was breaking news.

Radha stared at her screen, mortified.

Radha N: @Sameer K...I hate this office.
Sameer K: @Radha N... Welcome to the circus. I brought popcorn.
Radha N: You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?
Sameer K: Maybe a little. You’re cute when you threaten to rage-quit.

Radha slapped her forehead. “Unbelievable,” she muttered.

Priya slid her chair over, eyes gleaming like a gossip detective.
“You two are seriously texting… in the middle of your own meme apocalypse?”

Radha groaned. “Apparently, WE are the meme apocalypse.”

Later that afternoon, HR unleashed its latest masterpiece: a “casual bonding” session, which, as always, was neither casual nor bonded, except in the shared suffering.

Everyone gathered in the lounge, sipping chai and nibbling on stale samosas while quietly pretending not to stare at Radha and Sameer.

Radha was trapped near the snack table, surrounded by Priya and half the design team, all of whom wore identical we-know-everything smirks.

Sameer walked in late with rain-damp hair, laptop tucked under his arm, and instantly became the room’s main event.

“Sameer!” Rohit boomed, startling a nearby intern. “There’s your better half, I mean, your better half of the project!”

The room burst into delighted laughter.
Radha’s look of horror could’ve caused a system-wide outage.

Sameer shot her an apologetic smile as he sat across from her.

Rohit, blissfully oblivious to the carnage he was causing, asked, “So tell us , what’s the secret to your QA-Dev chemistry?”

Sameer cleared his throat and said, with infuriating calm,
“Clear communication, mutual respect… and caffeine.”

Laughter exploded again. Radha discreetly kicked him under the table.

“Ow... what was that for?” he murmured.

“You know exactly what,” she hissed.

Leaning closer, he whispered, “If we keep denying it, they’ll just invent wilder stories.”

“Oh really? And what do you suggest we do?”

He grinned, low and conspiratorial. “Start a new story.”

Her eyes widened. “Sameer....”

But before she could finish, HR clapped loudly.

“Alright, team! Time for a fun ice-breaker. Pair up with someone you don’t work closely with!”

The universe crackled with irony.

“Radha and Sameer,” HR announced brightly. “You two can partner up!”

Soft chuckles rolled across the room like a wave.

Radha muttered, “Of course. Why not.”

Sameer nudged her, smiling. “See? Even fate ships us.”

“Fate is annoying.”

“Trust me,” he said, “I know.”

The activity itself was simple enough, harmless corporate fluff designed to make HR feel productive. Four easy questions about hobbies and teamwork. Everyone answered on autopilot.

But then came the fifth question.
The one nobody expected.

“Describe your partner in one word.”

The room quieted, just a little enough for tension to slip in between the chai cups and nervous laughter.

Sameer spoke first.

“Grounded.”

He didn’t blink, didn’t joke.
The word came out warm, steady, honest like he’d been holding it for a while.

Radha’s breath caught. She hadn’t expected sincerity. Not from him. Not here.

When HR turned to her, Radha hesitated not because she didn’t know the answer, but because saying it out loud felt huge.

Finally, she said softly,

“Unexpected.”

Their eyes locked in a quiet, unguarded moment in a room full of noise.

Around them, people laughed, munched samosas, complained about Monday, and gossiped in low whispers. But none of it mattered.

Between them, something else clicked into place, something real, something wordless, something that had nothing to do with watercooler rumors or Jira memes.

A truth they weren’t ready to label yet…

…but felt all the same.