The following morning, Astha entered the office, her mind still circling the conversation she had with Arin the night before. She had dismissed it as nothing more than his usual philosophical musings, but something about his words stuck with her.
As she placed her bag on her desk, her eyes immediately fell on something new.
A small velvet pouch sat atop her workspace. She frowned, hesitating for a moment before picking it up. Inside, she found a delicate silver bookmark shaped like a quill, its intricate design shimmering under the office lights. Attached to it was a folded note.
“Words should never be caged. Let them fly free.”
Astha stared at the message, her fingers tracing the delicate metal of the bookmark. It was thoughtful—too thoughtful. This wasn’t just some random office gift. Whoever her Secret Santa was, they were paying attention.
Her curiosity sharpened.
On the other side of the office, Arin was at his desk, typing away when Priya from HR passed by, stopping just long enough to glance at him with an amused expression.
“Seems like Secret Santa is working overtime,” she teased.
Arin raised an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”
Priya shrugged. “Oh, I just noticed Astha looking very intrigued by her latest gift.”
Arin merely smiled and said nothing.
By lunchtime, Astha was still distracted. As she absentmindedly stirred sugar into her coffee, Priya sat down across from her, grinning.
“So… have you figured out who your Secret Santa is yet?” Priya asked.
Astha shook her head. “Not yet. But it’s definitely someone observant.”
Priya smiled. “If I had to guess, I’d say someone in the editorial team. Maybe someone who works closely with you…”
Astha narrowed her eyes. “You’re enjoying this too much.”
Priya laughed. “Oh, absolutely. It’s fun watching you try to pretend you don’t care.”
Astha sighed. “It’s not that I don’t care. It’s just… personal gifts at work feel unnecessary.”
Priya leaned in. “Or maybe you just don’t know how to accept something meant just for you.”
Astha scoffed. “That’s ridiculous.”
But as she returned to her desk, staring at the elegant bookmark, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Priya wasn’t entirely wrong.
Later that afternoon, Arin was reviewing articles when he noticed Astha lingering at his office door.
“Need something, Mehra?” he asked without looking up.
She hesitated before stepping inside, closing the door behind her. “I don’t agree with some of your edits.”
He smiled. “Of course you don’t.”
Astha crossed her arms. “You changed the structure of my article—again.”
Arin leaned back, watching her. “Because I know you can write with more force. More passion. You hold back.”
“I do not hold back,” she countered, stepping forward.
Arin tilted his head. “Then why does your article feel careful instead of powerful?”
Astha opened her mouth to respond, then closed it.
“You know I’m right,” Arin said, his voice softer now.
Astha exhaled, shaking her head. “I write as I see fit.”
“And I think you see a lot more than you allow yourself to say,” Arin countered, his tone laced with quiet confidence.
She studied him for a long moment before shaking her head, exasperated. “You’re impossible.”
Arin simply smiled. “And you’re predictable.”
Astha rolled her eyes but took the article back with her. As she walked away, Arin leaned back in his chair, watching her go.
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