05-08-2025, 12:28 AM
(This post was last modified: 16-08-2025, 04:11 PM by nivithenaughty. Edited 2 times in total. Edited 2 times in total.)
Chapter 2: Back in the Game
The office door swung open, and Nivi stepped into the familiar hum of Coimbatore’s busiest accounting firm, the air thick with the smell of ink and morning coffee. Her heart thumped—not from nerves, but from the thrill of being back after five years.
Her green kurti fit snugly, flaring over her hips, paired with simple black leggings that felt comfortable in the humid morning. The lobby was the same: cluttered desks, a buzzing printer, and the faint clink of teaspoons from the tea station.
She’d been invisible here once, just one of the boys, but as she crossed to her old desk, she caught a few glances from new faces—men in the hallway pausing a second too long. Maybe I’m not that girl anymore, she thought, setting down her bag.
Her desk was waiting, a stack of files neatly arranged but dusty from disuse. She ran a finger over the edge, smiling at the familiarity. The tea station called, a habit from her old days.
There they were: Ashwin, broad-shouldered and grinning, though his eyes had new shadows from fatherhood; Dinesh, glasses slipping as he waved a spoon for emphasis; and Ashok, leaning against the counter, quiet as ever, sipping his chai. They spotted her, and the air lit up.
“Nivi! The prodigal accountant returns!” Ashwin’s voice boomed, pulling her into a quick, brotherly hug. “Look at you, back to save us from budget disasters. Kids keeping you busy?”
Dinesh handed her a steel tumbler of tea, smirking. “Yeah, you’re probably running a tighter ship at home than we do here. How’s it been?”
Ashok gave a shy nod, his eyes meeting hers briefly. “Good to see you, Nivi.”
She stirred sugar into her chai, the clink of the spoon grounding her. “Kids are a handful, but worth it. Anand’s… swamped with work. What about you all? Ashwin, how’s the baby?”
They launched into stories—Ashwin’s tales of sleepless nights, Dinesh joking about his wife’s mango pickle cravings, Ashok mentioning a new chess app he’d tried. It felt like slipping into an old rhythm, their laughter wrapping her in warmth.
But as she turned to grab a biscuit from the tin, her kurti shifted slightly, and she caught Ashok’s gaze linger on her back for a moment before he looked away, cheeks pink. Was that new? She brushed it off, focusing on their banter.
At lunch, she joined Saritha and Lakshmi in the canteen, the smell of rice and tangy rasam filling the air. “Nivi, you’re glowing,” Saritha said, passing her a plate. “Motherhood suits you.”
Lakshmi nodded, her eyes kind. “Tell us about the boys—they must be little terrors.”
Nivi shared stories of their antics, laughing as the women swapped their own. Across the room, Mr. Raghavan, her boss, walked by, his stern face softening. “Nivetha, welcome back,” he said, pausing. “This place missed your sharp eye.”
His gaze was warm, professional, and she thanked him, a quiet pride sparking. As she headed back to her desk, helping Dinesh fix a formula error, their elbows brushing as they laughed over a typo, she felt it: this was her space again, and it was enough for now.
Continued......
The office door swung open, and Nivi stepped into the familiar hum of Coimbatore’s busiest accounting firm, the air thick with the smell of ink and morning coffee. Her heart thumped—not from nerves, but from the thrill of being back after five years.
Her green kurti fit snugly, flaring over her hips, paired with simple black leggings that felt comfortable in the humid morning. The lobby was the same: cluttered desks, a buzzing printer, and the faint clink of teaspoons from the tea station.
She’d been invisible here once, just one of the boys, but as she crossed to her old desk, she caught a few glances from new faces—men in the hallway pausing a second too long. Maybe I’m not that girl anymore, she thought, setting down her bag.
Her desk was waiting, a stack of files neatly arranged but dusty from disuse. She ran a finger over the edge, smiling at the familiarity. The tea station called, a habit from her old days.
There they were: Ashwin, broad-shouldered and grinning, though his eyes had new shadows from fatherhood; Dinesh, glasses slipping as he waved a spoon for emphasis; and Ashok, leaning against the counter, quiet as ever, sipping his chai. They spotted her, and the air lit up.
“Nivi! The prodigal accountant returns!” Ashwin’s voice boomed, pulling her into a quick, brotherly hug. “Look at you, back to save us from budget disasters. Kids keeping you busy?”
Dinesh handed her a steel tumbler of tea, smirking. “Yeah, you’re probably running a tighter ship at home than we do here. How’s it been?”
Ashok gave a shy nod, his eyes meeting hers briefly. “Good to see you, Nivi.”
She stirred sugar into her chai, the clink of the spoon grounding her. “Kids are a handful, but worth it. Anand’s… swamped with work. What about you all? Ashwin, how’s the baby?”
They launched into stories—Ashwin’s tales of sleepless nights, Dinesh joking about his wife’s mango pickle cravings, Ashok mentioning a new chess app he’d tried. It felt like slipping into an old rhythm, their laughter wrapping her in warmth.
But as she turned to grab a biscuit from the tin, her kurti shifted slightly, and she caught Ashok’s gaze linger on her back for a moment before he looked away, cheeks pink. Was that new? She brushed it off, focusing on their banter.
At lunch, she joined Saritha and Lakshmi in the canteen, the smell of rice and tangy rasam filling the air. “Nivi, you’re glowing,” Saritha said, passing her a plate. “Motherhood suits you.”
Lakshmi nodded, her eyes kind. “Tell us about the boys—they must be little terrors.”
Nivi shared stories of their antics, laughing as the women swapped their own. Across the room, Mr. Raghavan, her boss, walked by, his stern face softening. “Nivetha, welcome back,” he said, pausing. “This place missed your sharp eye.”
His gaze was warm, professional, and she thanked him, a quiet pride sparking. As she headed back to her desk, helping Dinesh fix a formula error, their elbows brushing as they laughed over a typo, she felt it: this was her space again, and it was enough for now.
Continued......
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)