ℂ𝕆ℂ𝕂𝕋𝔸𝕀𝕃𝕊 𝕎𝕀𝕋ℍ ℂ𝕌ℙ𝕀𝔻

𝟴𝟵: 𝗛𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗘𝘀𝗸𝗶𝗺𝗼𝘀?

>>>>–––– 💘 ––––<<<<

Mannan naa vanthana oor alara
Kannan naa thottanna poo malara

The office was absolute chaos — the good kind. 403 was in full celebration mode, spinning around with the staff, sleeves rolled up, shirt untucked, tie loosened halfway down his chest. Oorum Blood blasted from the speakers, and he danced like a man possessed — sunglasses on indoors, hair sticking up in every direction, body moving to the beat like he was the hero of a Tamil mass intro scene.

Ennenenna solla enna vella yaarum illa

 he sang at the top of his lungs, jumping onto a chair like it was his stage. Papers flew, laughter echoed, and half the office clapped along. He tossed his pen in the air dramatically, air-guitaring to the next line,  

Raajathi raajan naa
Raw-vaana raavanaa..aaa

But the party came to an abrupt halt when the elevator dinged. Out stepped 601 — calm, collected... and holding a butter knife. The moment 403 saw her, his dance froze mid-step. His sunglasses slid halfway down his nose as he whispered, 

Aiyayo...

before bolting like his life depended on it. Because it did.

Dei! Nillu da!

( Stop right there!)

Anjali yelled, waving the butter knife like a weapon. 403 yelped, nearly tripping over a chair as he ran across the cubicles, dodging confused interns and scattering files like confetti. 

Avasarapaattu yendha mudhivum yedhuthuradhe! 

(Don't make any hasty decisions!)

he shouted over his shoulder, but her glare said he'd better keep running because he valued his existence.

The chase circled the entire office — from the pantry to the photocopy machine, and straight into the open workspace again. 403 ducked behind a pillar, panting, peeking out just in time to see 601 narrowing in on him. 

Why are you even mad now? You're supposed to be celebrating too!

he pleaded.

601 advanced slowly, eyes narrowed, butter knife glinting under the fluorescent light. 

Sathiyama solren, saavadhichiruven unna!

( I swear to god, I'll murder you!)

she snapped. He grinned, inching backward, 

Summa pulugadhe, konjam kuda nee Ananya kaga sandhosha padhala?

(Don't lie—aren't you even a little happy for Ananya?)

601 paused for a second, her thoughts tangling faster than she could make sense of them. Did she— did she not—feel just a tiny bit happy that Ananya finally shared a kiss with a guy who actually wasn't a jerk? A guy who, for once, seemed to care for her, to actually make an effort?

Or... was she mad that the guy turned out not to be a jerk, completely ruining the mental image she had built for years? Because if he wasn't a jerk, she wasn't sure how to process that.

403 chortled mockingly at her face and that earned him a louder yell and another chase.

He darted toward the glass meeting room, trying to find backup. 

Nee yevlo dhan kova pattalum, indha development lae un contribution'um iruku!

(You're part of the reason we even got this development!)