05-03-2026, 01:56 PM
The 4:00 PM sync was a blur of Jira tickets and sprint velocities. Bavi had spent the entire hour studiously avoiding Shri’s gaze, though she could feel it like a physical weight against her skin. He sat slumped with an athletic, predatory grace in his chair, clicking his pen in a rhythmic cadence that matched the thudding of her heart.
When the meeting finally broke, Bavi bolted. She needed air. She needed the sterile silence of the server room or the anonymity of the lobby—anywhere but in a room with him.
She reached the elevator bank just as the silver doors were sliding shut. She slipped inside, pressing the button for the ground floor.
"Hold that!"
A large, tan hand caught the sensor. The doors retracted, and Shri stepped in.
The elevator was small, one of the older service lifts at the back of the OMR building. As the doors hissed shut, the space felt instantly microscopic. Shri stood behind her, his height casting a shadow that swallowed her whole.
"Running away, Bavi?" he asked, his voice low and roughened by the afternoon’s coffee. "The sync wasn't that boring."
"I have a life outside this office, Shri," she snapped, staring straight at the digital floor indicator. 7... 6... 5...
Suddenly, the lift gave a violent shudder. The overhead lights flickered, died, and were replaced by the dim, sickly amber of the emergency backup. The car jolted to a sickening halt between floors.
"Great," Bavi muttered, her breath hitching. "Just great."
"Thermal overload in the building grid," Shri said, his voice remarkably calm in the dark. He didn't move toward the alarm button. Instead, he moved toward her. "Looks like we’re stuck in a queue."
"Move back, Shri. Give me space to reach the intercom."
"The intercom is dead, Bavi. I saw the wiring diagram in the basement yesterday. Emergency power only handles the brakes and the basic LEDs."
He was so close now she could feel the heat radiating off his chest, a contrast to the stagnant, cooling air of the stalled car. Bavi turned around to push him back, but her hands landed flat against the solid, warm wall of his chest. The charcoal fabric of his shirt was soft, but the muscle beneath it was like granite.
"Shri, stop," she whispered, though she didn't pull her hands away. Her fingers curled instinctively into the fabric.
"Stop what?" he breathed. He reached up, his hands settling on the handrail on either side of her waist, effectively caging her against the mirrored back wall of the lift. In the dim amber light, his eyes were two dark pools of intent. "Stop wanting you? Stop thinking about how you looked when I touched your knee at lunch?"
"We're at work," she protested, her voice failing her.
"No one can see us, Bavi. We're suspended in mid-air. The logs won't show anything but a power fault."
He leaned down, his face inches from hers. The scent of him—sea salt and raw, masculine heat—was intoxicating. Bavi looked up at him, her glasses slipping slightly down her nose. Gently, Shri reached out and took them off, placing them on the small ledge of the handrail.
"Better," he murmured.
He didn't kiss her. He did something worse. He pressed his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the cramped, silent space. Bavi felt her resolve melting like an uncooled processor. She reached up, her small fingers tracing the line of his jaw, the slight stubble of the afternoon prickling her skin.
"You're a junior," she whispered, a final, weak attempt at logic. "I'm your senior."
"Then teach me something, Bavi," he groaned, his lips finally grazing the corner of her mouth. "Show me the protocol for when the system crashes."
He shifted his weight, his heavy, athletic frame pressing her firmly against the glass. The cool surface against her back and his searing heat in front created a sensory overload that made her head spin. His hand traveled to her waist, his large palm spreading across the small of her back, pulling her flush against him.
The elevator groaned, shifting an inch downward. Bavi gasped, her arms winding around his neck for stability—or perhaps just because she couldn't stay away any longer.
"Shri..."
"I've got you," he whispered against her skin. "I've had you since the moment I walked into that induction room."
Just as his lips moved to the sensitive dip of her collarbone, the lights flickered back to a brilliant, blinding white. The lift hummed, the motor whirring back to life.
4... 3... 2...
Shri stepped back instantly, his expression smoothing into a mask of casual indifference just as the doors slid open to the busy lobby. He handed Bavi her glasses with a steady hand.
"After you, Lead," he said, his voice perfectly professional, though his eyes were still burning.
Bavi stepped out into the humid Chennai evening, her legs trembling. She didn't look back, but she knew one thing for certain: the next time the power went out, she wasn't going to be the one trying to fix it.
When the meeting finally broke, Bavi bolted. She needed air. She needed the sterile silence of the server room or the anonymity of the lobby—anywhere but in a room with him.
She reached the elevator bank just as the silver doors were sliding shut. She slipped inside, pressing the button for the ground floor.
"Hold that!"
A large, tan hand caught the sensor. The doors retracted, and Shri stepped in.
The elevator was small, one of the older service lifts at the back of the OMR building. As the doors hissed shut, the space felt instantly microscopic. Shri stood behind her, his height casting a shadow that swallowed her whole.
"Running away, Bavi?" he asked, his voice low and roughened by the afternoon’s coffee. "The sync wasn't that boring."
"I have a life outside this office, Shri," she snapped, staring straight at the digital floor indicator. 7... 6... 5...
Suddenly, the lift gave a violent shudder. The overhead lights flickered, died, and were replaced by the dim, sickly amber of the emergency backup. The car jolted to a sickening halt between floors.
"Great," Bavi muttered, her breath hitching. "Just great."
"Thermal overload in the building grid," Shri said, his voice remarkably calm in the dark. He didn't move toward the alarm button. Instead, he moved toward her. "Looks like we’re stuck in a queue."
"Move back, Shri. Give me space to reach the intercom."
"The intercom is dead, Bavi. I saw the wiring diagram in the basement yesterday. Emergency power only handles the brakes and the basic LEDs."
He was so close now she could feel the heat radiating off his chest, a contrast to the stagnant, cooling air of the stalled car. Bavi turned around to push him back, but her hands landed flat against the solid, warm wall of his chest. The charcoal fabric of his shirt was soft, but the muscle beneath it was like granite.
"Shri, stop," she whispered, though she didn't pull her hands away. Her fingers curled instinctively into the fabric.
"Stop what?" he breathed. He reached up, his hands settling on the handrail on either side of her waist, effectively caging her against the mirrored back wall of the lift. In the dim amber light, his eyes were two dark pools of intent. "Stop wanting you? Stop thinking about how you looked when I touched your knee at lunch?"
"We're at work," she protested, her voice failing her.
"No one can see us, Bavi. We're suspended in mid-air. The logs won't show anything but a power fault."
He leaned down, his face inches from hers. The scent of him—sea salt and raw, masculine heat—was intoxicating. Bavi looked up at him, her glasses slipping slightly down her nose. Gently, Shri reached out and took them off, placing them on the small ledge of the handrail.
"Better," he murmured.
He didn't kiss her. He did something worse. He pressed his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the cramped, silent space. Bavi felt her resolve melting like an uncooled processor. She reached up, her small fingers tracing the line of his jaw, the slight stubble of the afternoon prickling her skin.
"You're a junior," she whispered, a final, weak attempt at logic. "I'm your senior."
"Then teach me something, Bavi," he groaned, his lips finally grazing the corner of her mouth. "Show me the protocol for when the system crashes."
He shifted his weight, his heavy, athletic frame pressing her firmly against the glass. The cool surface against her back and his searing heat in front created a sensory overload that made her head spin. His hand traveled to her waist, his large palm spreading across the small of her back, pulling her flush against him.
The elevator groaned, shifting an inch downward. Bavi gasped, her arms winding around his neck for stability—or perhaps just because she couldn't stay away any longer.
"Shri..."
"I've got you," he whispered against her skin. "I've had you since the moment I walked into that induction room."
Just as his lips moved to the sensitive dip of her collarbone, the lights flickered back to a brilliant, blinding white. The lift hummed, the motor whirring back to life.
4... 3... 2...
Shri stepped back instantly, his expression smoothing into a mask of casual indifference just as the doors slid open to the busy lobby. He handed Bavi her glasses with a steady hand.
"After you, Lead," he said, his voice perfectly professional, though his eyes were still burning.
Bavi stepped out into the humid Chennai evening, her legs trembling. She didn't look back, but she knew one thing for certain: the next time the power went out, she wasn't going to be the one trying to fix it.
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