Not A Simple Engineer Boy! | ✓

044 • torsional rigidity | three

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Scrollstck- Suganthi Lakshminarayanan

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Rathna: Hello, Sunshine.

Krithika smiled as she read the message. She knew how persistent men could be when they wanted a woman's attention.

It had been a week already, and Rathna wasn't tired at all. There was something undeniably charming about him that kept her from blocking him. His imprudent innuendo, his crappy, cringe-worthy messages, his genuine concern—everything felt oddly comforting.

He didn't ignite passion or desire in her. Instead, he brought calmness to her anxious mind. Chatting with him was joyful at best. Still, she couldn't agree to his request and kept delaying any response.

A ping from her phone pulled her attention back to the screen.

Rathna: I ate a tilgul—sesame laddoo—today. It reminded me of you.

She replied: Why? Was it round and ugly?

Rathna: No, it was dark and sweet, just like you.

She blushed at his hopeless romanticism. He couldn't stop flirting, telling her daily about the random things that reminded him of her.

Rathna: And they were so good, so tasty, that I wanted more...

Krithika: Shut up!

If she had been fair-skinned, she would've looked like a tomato, but her dark cheeks could only manage a faint tint of pink.

Rathna: I'm typing, how could I shut up?

Bye, I reached the office, she typed as she stepped into the elevator. Rathna had left for his ancestral home in Ahmedabad to celebrate Uttarayan.

Rathna: Okay... Can I call you tonight?

She read the message twice. He wasn't being unreasonable. After a week of chatting, he was just taking his chance. She sighed. Okay, but I like my sleep way more than anything. I won't be able to talk much.

Rathna: No problem. Your voice will be enough for my dreams.

Krithika: BYE!

She wanted nothing more than to put her phone down and stop smiling like a fool.

"Krithika, you're not heading home?"

Sathya's voice, warm but inquisitive, floated toward Krithika as they ambled toward the office cafeteria.

"No," Krithika replied, her tone clipped as if to sever the conversation. "Festivities and I don't get along. I prefer my own company." She ignored the dull ache tightening in her chest.

"Right. Sorry, I forgot," Sathya said, slipping in beside her with the effortless grace of royalty. The pleats of her saree swirled like autumn leaves, regal and precise. She looked like she belonged in a palace, not a drab office.

Krithika forced a smile. "It's fine. I'm grateful you convinced my father about the job."

Sathya's eyes narrowed. "Oh, yes. Your father..." she exhaled sharply, almost like she was exorcising him from her mind. "I'm sorry, but he's the most insufferable man I've ever met. How Xavier kept his composure is beyond me." She rolled her eyes. "I wanted to rip my own ears off halfway through."

Krithika stumbled to a stop, her pulse quickening. "Xa— I mean, sir was with you?" Her voice cracked as she desperately tried to sound indifferent, failing miserably.

He was there?

"Of course," Sathya said, unfazed. "I can't handle men like that. He's a walking advertisement for outdated patriarchy. I dragged Xavier into the mess because I saw potential in you, and luckily, he trusts my judgment. It's not the first time I've made him wade through the mud to find a diamond." She smirked. "He's getting used to it."

Krithika barely heard the compliment. Her mind reeled, replaying Sathya's words on a loop. Xavier stood up to my father.

He hadn't done it for her, had he? No. He'd done it because Sathya had seen something worth fighting for. And yet... she knew the kind of venom her father could spit. He had stood there anyway, absorbing it all. For me?

"Parents aren't always right," Sathya continued, her voice softening as she placed a hand on Krithika's shoulder. "They like to act like they hold the keys to wisdom, but sometimes they're just stubborn gatekeepers. Come join me for Pongal. It's just my little sister and me every year, and she'd adore you."

Krithika blinked, thrown by the sudden invitation. "Um... okay." The word tumbled out before she could think twice.

He stood against my father for me.

She went to grab her coffee, craving something as bitter as her tangled thoughts. The aroma promised solace, but her mind was still spiraling. She clung to the hope that the first sip would burn away the realization gnawing at her.

Do tell me what you feel about this and the upcoming chapters, always open to positive criticism.