The conference room on the third floor of Zaventra was wrapped in pin-drop silence. The air itself seemed to hum under Sneha Shetty's imposing presence.

For Sneha, the entire day had felt like a cosmic joke testing her patience.
First, she'd woken up late. Then, her coffee order had been butchered beyond redemption. And as if the universe wasn't done mocking her, a brooding mountain of a man had decided to baptize her in coffee on his very first day at work. To top it all, the board had the audacity to blame her for the company's falling sales.

Sneha was difficult to deal with on her best days, so the staff knew that today there would be blood. Her frustration flickered across her strikingly beautiful face. If she didn't possess the temper of a volcano, she could have been disarmingly charming.

Her sharp eyes swept across the table, pinning each trembling employee to their chair. Sweat broke out under her silent scrutiny.
And then there was him, the one man who dared to remain calm. He met her gaze with infuriating nonchalance. Sneha had made his first few hours at Zaventra a living nightmare, yet he sat there, composed, unreadable, and entirely too comfortable. He looked completely unbothered, like the chaos around him was background noise.

The blazer was gone, replaced by a black blouse tucked into grey slacks. She stood before the white screen displaying the graphs of the previous quarter's sales. Leaning forward slightly, she rested a hand on the table, her forefinger tapping with a dangerously calm rhythm as her gaze pinned the sales manager in place for a few long seconds. Her eyes drifted across the room, gliding over every uncomfortable face before she finally began to speak.

"Alright," Sneha said, breaking the silence. Her voice was calm but carried enough weight to make everyone sit straighter. "Let's get one thing clear. The numbers from the last quarter are not good. In fact, they're embarrassing."

She clicked the remote. The projector screen shifted to a slide showing a neat downward slope. "This may not look like a major dip, but if we don't fix it now, the next quarter will be worse."

A few uneasy glances passed across the table. They were used to Sneha scolding them but when she spoke this calmly, heads always rolled.

"I'm not interested in excuses about market trends or budget constraints." She continued, her voice steady but sharp. "We all work with the same limitations. What separates us from mediocrity is how fast we adapt."

An intern from the sales team cleared his throat nervously. "Ma'am, the slowdown is mainly due to client hesitation after the scand-"

"Clients don't hesitate," Sneha cut in smoothly, looking at him as if he were an idiot. "They shift. And if we were doing our job right, we'd have shifted with them."

Another voice spoke from marketing analytics. "Ma'am, we did try pushing more social media ads, but the engagement didn't-"

"Didn't what?" she asked sharply. "Didn't magically double itself overnight?" Her gaze didn't leave the woman who said that. "When you see something failing, you pivot. You don't repeat the same strategy and hope for divine intervention."

The analyst nodded mutely, face flushed. She had joined the company the previous month and it was her first time getting reprimanded in front of so many people. Especially in front of the handsome new digital marketing manager she had been eyeing since she came into the conference room. She had only spoken to sound smart and get noticed, but her plan had tragically backfired.

Sneha let the silence hang for a beat, letting it settle like dust after an explosion. "If your department is underperforming, I expect you to already know why, and to have a solution ready by tomorrow morning."

Her gaze drifted around the table, briefly pausing on each face before landing on the one that hadn't looked away since the meeting began.

"Mr. Iyer," she said finally, her voice cool. "You've joined us at a very convenient time. Maybe you can tell us what you think we're missing here." She expected him to fumble so that she could tear into him but Siddharth hadn't intended to give her the chance.

Every head turned toward Siddharth. He looked up from his notes, calm and unreadable, as if he had already anticipated the question. He closed the notebook gracefully and leaned back in his chair.

"I think," he began, "we've been reacting instead of anticipating. Most of our campaigns are designed around trends that have already peaked. By the time we launch, the audience has already moved on."

The room stayed silent. Sneha's lips curled so faintly that no one in the room noticed except Siddharth. Contrary to her expectations, he hadn't just avoided fumbling, he'd arrived at the same conclusion she had. He had somehow managed to earn both her annoyance and her respect on his very first day at the company.

He continued, "The data shows decent reach but poor retention. That means the content is catching attention but not holding it. It's not about how much we post; it's about when and where. I believe we're focusing too much on volume instead of timing, context, and consistency."

Sneha folded her arms, studying him. The infuriating cow sitting across from her was better at his job than half of Zaventra's marketing department. "So you're saying our strategy lacks foresight?"

"I'm saying it lacks adaptability," Siddharth replied, his tone measured. "If we need approval from three departments and two review cycles before a campaign moves forward, it's going to be outdated by the time it launches. From what I've observed, we have too much paperwork and not enough action."

A murmur of agreement rippled through the room, only to die instantly when Sneha's gaze flicked toward the offenders. These people could nod at every suggestion but rarely produce any real ideas. But, much to her reluctant relief, Mr. Cow at least had some brains.

Sneha's gaze lingered on Siddharth a second longer than she intended. Most men were arrogant even when their knowledge was miniscule but she knew that Siddharth had, not an ounce of arrogance. He was confident in his work. He didn't make noise. He made impact and that was definitely an admirable character. Even in an enemy.

"Fine," she said finally, her tone crisp. "Since you've analyzed the problem already, have you come up with a solution?" From what she had observed in half a day, she knew he would already have one. But she also knew he was cautious enough to perfect it before speaking.

All eyes swung back to Siddharth. He didn't blink. He simply sat up straighter. "I'll need access to campaign archives from the past year, analytics reports, and client feedback logs. I want to identify where engagement started to drop. Once I have that, I'll submit a new content strategy with measurable timelines."

"Very well," she said, nodding slightly. "You'll get the data. But I expect a presentation ready by Monday morning."

Her words carried the weight of finality. She turned toward the projector, clicking the remote. "That's all for today. Everyone back to work. Marketing analytics, I want revised engagement reports by end of day."

Relief rippled across the room. People got up hurriedly, as if the building were on fire. They'd expected heads to roll when Sneha had called the meeting, but it had gone surprisingly well. They all wanted to keep it that way and rushed out before someone breathed too loudly and triggered her wrath.

Siddharth, however, stayed seated until the last person left. Then he stood, gathering his notebook, and met Sneha's eyes one last time.

"I'll have something concrete by Monday," he said simply.

"Good," she replied, slipping off her watch and keeping it in her pocket. "Try not to spill anything on me until then."

He allowed himself the faintest hint of a smile. "No promises."

Unbeknownst to him, annoying her brought him amusement. Her sharp eyes, lined with kohl, narrowed just enough for him to notice before she turned and walked out.

Siddharth followed her out of the room, and before he could reach his bullpen, he heard a low whistle behind him. Tejas stood there, holding two coffees, his eyes gleaming like a man ready to spill tea-and collect even more.

Siddharth ignored him and continued to his desk, but Tejas dragged a spare chair from a nearby cubicle and sat down uninvited. He placed both coffees on Siddharth's table and leaned in, lowering his voice.

"Damn, bro! Not even twenty-four hours into the job, and you're already trending in the group chat."

Siddharth resisted the urge to roll his eyes, his military discipline kicking in. "Is the HR department too free?" he asked stiffly, ignoring the last comment.

Tejas scoffed. "Colonel Prickles the Third has more humor than you." He sipped his coffee and continued despite Siddharth's disinterest.

"Don't you at least want to know the gossip about you?" he pressed, clearly intrigued. After all, what kind of person didn't want to know what was being said about them?

"Not interested," Siddharth replied dryly, not looking away from his screen.

Tejas sighed dramatically, taking a deep breath like a storyteller preparing for a grand tale. "Too bad, because it's premium gossip."

Tejas leaned back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other with the flair of someone about to perform Shakespeare. He knew that the more dramatic he acted, the more he could piss off Siddharth. The man was too stoic, much to Tejas's dismay. Hence, he wanted to get a reaction out of him. Even if it meant that Siddharth could throw a paperweight at him by the end of it, a win was a win.

"Okay, so," he began, eyes gleaming. "Word on the office grapevine is that our dear CMO called you a cow on weed."

Siddharth didn't look away from his computer. "I was there."

"Ah, yes," Tejas said, waving a hand dismissively. "But see, the legendary retelling of that moment is way better." He leaned forward, lowering his voice theatrically. "Apparently, she said it with the fury of a thousand suns, while you, cool as an arctic iceberg, called her a caffeine-deprived penguin." He almost giggled like a teen girl. He was enjoying this a little too much.

"I was also there for that," Siddharth sighed. He knew that he had to live the rest of his life with that nametag.

"Yeah, but you're missing the best part," Tejas said, grinning. "Someone from Finance caught the whole thing on camera. The video's going viral on our office WhatsApp group. There's even a remix version with dramatic background music. It's called 'Operation Latte Drop.'"

Siddharth finally looked up, unimpressed. "I assume you had something to do with that."

Tejas gasped, clutching his chest. "How dare you. I only provided moral support and... a few music suggestions, which are fire, by the way."

He scrolled through his phone eagerly. "Listen to this, someone even made a meme. It's you standing still like a statue, and the caption says: 'When your PTSD meets her PMS.' I'm searching for the person who came up with this caption. It's so lit."

Siddharth froze mid-typing, his jaw tightening. "That's highly unprofessional." It hadn't even been a day, and he was finding it hard to cope with the undisciplined workplace. He somewhat missed his army base.

"Of course it is," Tejas said cheerfully. "That's what makes it funny."

Siddharth exhaled slowly, turning towards Tejas with a calm that was unsettling. "I don't understand how people find time for this nonsense."

Tejas grinned wider. "Oh, you have no idea. The entire office has taken sides already. Half are Team Penguin, the others are Team Cow. Someone even started a poll in the group chat, 'Who would win in a cage fight?' You're losing by fourteen votes."

Siddharth gave him a long, flat look. "I'm touched."

Unfazed, Tejas slurped his coffee loudly. "Look, man, I'm just saying, no one's ever stood up to her like that before. You've basically become the office's unofficial gladiator. The memes are only the beginning." He then sniffled dramatically, his lips pouting. "My baby is growing up too fast, you already have a lot of admirers." He pretended to wipe the nonexistent tears.

Siddharth picked the coffee from his desk and turned back to his computer. "You talk too much."

Tejas smirked. "And you brood too much. That's why we balance each other out," he said proudly.

"Balance yourself out of my chair," Siddharth said so low that if Tejas wasn't a trained spy, he could have missed it.

Tejas chuckled, unbothered, and stood up. "Fine, fine. But between you and me..." He paused, lowering his voice dramatically again, but Siddharth didn't miss the hint of warning Tejas was trying to convey. "That woman's dangerous. I've seen grown men forget how to spell their names around her. Be careful. One wrong move and she'll chew you up. We don't want any distractions."

Siddharth turned back to his screen, his voice calm as ever. "She already tried. I'm still standing. And she's no distraction."

Tejas grinned, raising his cup in salute. "Okay, Captain Broody, whatever you say."

He sauntered off, leaving Siddharth alone with his half-finished coffee and a dozen unread emails. Tejas quickly took his phone out of his pocket and changed Siddharth's contact name to 'Mr. Cow.' He giggled, proud of his work, and a nearby passing intern looked at him as if he had escaped a mental asylum. But Tejas was too immersed in his phone to notice.

Siddharth leaned back in his chair, glancing briefly at her closed cabin door down the hall where she was likely terrorizing someone. For a moment, the faintest hint of a smile touched his lips before he refocused on his screen.

"Caffeine-deprived penguin," he murmured under his breath. "Fitting."

***

That evening at their apartment, Tejas sprawled across the newly bought couch, watching a cooking show. He had a packet of chips balanced on his chest. Half of its contents were spilled on his T-shirt-covered chest, and a few bits of it were on the couch and the floor.

Siddharth peeked his head out of the kitchen to ask if he wanted tea or coffee, but before he could open his mouth, he glanced at the mess and sighed. There was no need to ask about preferences from someone who looked like they would drink dishwater if it came in a pretty cup.

He quickly prepared two cups of steaming hot tea and placed them on the teapoy in front of the couch. Tejas craned his neck when Siddharth's frame blocked his vision of the TV. "Bro!... Don't block the TV," he whined. Siddharth glared at him, arms crossed, like he was about to punish the brat with two hundred pushups.

"Do you know how to cook?" he asked calmly.

Tejas craned his neck, eyes still on the TV. "No, but I'm rooting for the hot girl," he answered lazily.

"You root for all the girls in the show," Siddharth deadpanned, settling into a sofa chair with his tea. Tejas briefly glanced at Siddharth, raising his eyebrows mischievously.

"They are all hot," he began, but before he could spout some nonsense, Siddharth's phone buzzed. The ringtone was the default tone that had been set by the phone company, and Siddharth hadn't bothered to change it. Tejas's eyes snapped toward the noise, and he looked offended at the musical monstrosity.

Siddharth answered immediately when he saw that it was Colonel Aditya Mishra. He sat up straight out of habit. "Sir."

"How are you settling in?" Aditya's voice was crisp, and Siddharth's trained ears picked up the faint shuffling on the Colonel's end as the man leaned back in his chair.

"Adjusting," he answered, not bothering to get into detail about how he almost bathed a penguin in front of his office.

"Good. Remember why you're there. No distractions."
"Yes, sir."
"Keep me updated. No mistakes."

The call ended. Siddharth set the phone down. Tejas stared at him, dumbfounded. Both men spoke like they were two robots exchanging data. He now understood why Siddharth walked around with no expression on his face.

"Wow," Tejas scoffed. "Even your phone calls sound like classified military briefings. 'Yes, sir. No, sir. Three bags full, sir.'" He sat up quickly as if he'd remembered something very important. "Also, what's with your ringtone? You haven't changed it since you bought the phone, have you?"

Siddharth sipped the tea and sighed with a faint sense of relief from a long day of work. "It rings. That's all it needs to do."

Tejas stared at him in disbelief. "That's... depressing. A ringtone says a lot about your personality! Yours says, 'I've given up on life.' You need something with vibe. Something that says, 'I may hate people, but I do it stylishly.'" He scoffed, stuffing chips into his mouth.

Siddharth ignored him. "I didn't see the target today," he said, bringing attention to more important matters.

Tejas waved a hand. "That's because he was on leave. HR knows everything, baby. But don't worry. Tomorrow's a new day, new suspect, new chance for you to piss off Penguin," he ranted, grinning from ear to ear.

Siddharth finally rolled his eyes at him. "Why do I even bother?" He opened his laptop, trying to distract himself from the mess Tejas was making while stuffing his mouth with chips.

***

That night, Sneha sat across from her father in the dining room. Her skin had a faint youthful glow under the soft chandelier light. Sneha had a very youthful charm. Despite being thirty-two, she looked like she had forgotten to age after twenty-five.
Bharghav sipped coffee slowly, eyes steady on his daughter. "I heard you had an altercation with our new recruit," he said, recalling the series of memes and reels with dramatic music. Some even made him laugh, and he'd downloaded some of them with the help of his secretary.
Sneha's spoon hit the plate harder than necessary. "I have altercations with many new recruits every day. Which one are you asking about?" she said nonchalantly. She knew which new recruit her father was talking about. It had been the talk of the entire company for the day. Even a board member had asked her about it at the lunch meeting.
Bharghav almost wanted to say The Cow on Weed, but he held it back. He had an image to maintain. "So you do know that you have a problem with keeping your temper in check, don't you? I'm talking about that handsome lad from digital marketing," he said smugly. As her father, he knew which buttons to push, and he found it mildly amusing.
Just when Sneha was about to retort, their manager somehow seemed to materialize out of nowhere when he heard Bharghav call someone handsome. "There's a handsome boy in the company? Is he Snehamma's age?" Krishna Rai asked, his eyes gleaming with a possible marriage alliance for Sneha.
Though Krishna was their house manager, he was treated as a family member. He had practically helped Bharghav raise Sneha since she was born. From the moment Sneha turned twenty-eight, he'd gone on a groom-searching spree, much to her horror. Therefore, at the mention of a guy, he'd be summoned like a genie out of a lamp.
Sneha glared at the bald manager as Bharghav chuckled with amusement. He suddenly remembered that he had yet to show him all the memes and reels he'd saved. He mentally noted to do it after dinner. If Sneha ever got wind of it, they were toast.
"His name is Siddharth Iyer. He's three years older than our Sneha, but he's way too tall and good-looking for our girl, so don't bother about it," Bharghav waved a hand dismissively, teasing Sneha. His eyes darted sneakily toward Sneha from behind his glasses, trying to see her reaction, and just like he'd expected, her eyes were like lasers trying to drill a hole through him. She scoffed, leaning back in her chair.
"Papa! Did you steal me from someone when I was a baby? And if you think he's handsome, you may need new glasses." She huffed, crossing her hands against her chest defensively.
Both men ignored her comment. Krishna pulled out an empty dining table chair and settled in it, turning to Bharghav. "Our Snehamma is not too bad looking. She's a little short and dark, and she may have some anger issues, but the guy is a Brahmin." He sighed disappointedly. "Our Snehamma doesn't eat properly if there's no fish in her meal, so she'll suffer if she marries a vegetarian." He shook his head hopelessly, and Bharghav nodded, trying to hide the smirk on his face.
Sneha scoffed at the two men who chatted about her as if she wasn't in the room with them. "Rai uncle!" she raised her voice, snapping both men out of their animated chatting. "Can't you both see that I'm sitting here? Also, he looks like a drunk giraffe, so I'm way out of his league." She rolled her eyes.
Krishna tried to hide his smile. It was amusing to see her getting worked up. In his eyes, she was still the five-year-old girl throwing tantrums about going to school. "Snehamma, even if he's not good-looking, Bharghav sir said that he's tall," he turned to Bharghav, "how tall is he?"
"6 ft."
"See, that's a good height. You'll look like a Pomeranian next to him. So, he's still way out of your league," Krishna said with an amused smile.
Sneha's eyes widened with disbelief. "When did I ever say that I wanted to marry him?" She got up and turned to leave. "You guys are unbelievable! I'm done with dinner." She stomped out of the dining room. Seeing her leave, Bharghav took out his phone to show him the memes but stopped when she stomped back into the room, took the plate with a mackerel fry on it, huffed at both of them, and stomped out again.
After she left, Bharghav ushered Krishna closer, both men laughing at the memes and shipping the cow and the penguin.
Sneha banged the door of her bedroom with a little more force than necessary. She placed the mackerel fry on the nightstand and flopped on her bed. Her face burned red with anger and a little embarrassment. She wanted to pull her hair out when she remembered the audacity of the men downstairs. Just as she was rolling on her bed and throwing a tantrum like a child, her phone buzzed. She answered the call without looking at the caller ID, and her best friend's voice came through the speaker. "Babyyy!" Sanjana's voice was loud enough to rupture someone's eardrum, but Sneha's ears were used to it. Sneha's anger dissipated the moment she heard her voice.
"Sanjuu! I miss you." Sneha whined. Only Lord Shiva, her first bestie, and Sanjana, her second bestie, could see this side of Sneha. She heard some shuffling from Sanjana's side and a thud. She realized that Sanjana may have tripped on something again. Both of them were clumsy, so she didn't bother asking about her well-being. Both of them had taken a tumble infinite times, and they had always survived.
"I'll be there in five," Sanjana said, panting as she had rushed down the stairs from her apartment. Since she was on the first floor, she never bothered to take the lift.
"Okay, I want egg puffs and kachori," Sneha listed. "Oh, and don't forget dilpasand."
Sanjana made a mental note before disconnecting the call. Fifteen minutes later, both girls were sprawled on the bed, munching on the puffs. They had somehow miraculously managed not to spill food on the bed. Sneha recounted her entire day; most of it contained cursing out the infuriatingly handsome cow. Sanjana had joined in with gasps, scoffs, and offended reactions throughout the entire narration.
"Do you have his picture?" Sanjana asked, wanting to put a face to the offensive creature. Sneha pouted, muttering that her phone was too precious to have a picture of him. But Sanjana had already entered detective mode and snatched Sneha's laptop from the table. She quickly put in the password and began digging for his Instagram profile. But after an hour of searching, they found nothing. He wasn't on any social media platforms except for WhatsApp, and even there, his display picture showed the image of the Indian flag.
Sanjana was sitting cross-legged on the bed, and she directly face-planted, groaning in defeat. "Baby, I'm sure he's a serial killer. Or a psychopath, because who doesn't have an Instagram profile these days?" she said, closing the laptop shut.

Sneha grabbed a pillow and buried her face in it, groaning in frustration. "A psychopath would at least be more charming than him," she muttered, her voice muffled against the fabric. Sanjana snorted, reaching for dilpasand while Sneha rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. "First, he ruins my morning. Then, he ruins my reputation. And now, apparently, he's too mysterious to even stalk." She sighed, defeated. "I hate him."
Sanjana grinned around a mouthful of food. "Says every heroine before falling for the hero."
Sneha turned her head sharply, glaring at her. "No. This isn't a love story. It's a horror movie, and he's the villain."
She threw the pillow aside, grabbed the last bite of kachori, trying to focus on the tasty snack but before Sneha could eat it, Sanjana snatched it from her hand and stuffed it into her own mouth as she declare with finality. "Don't worry sweetie, he can hide online but not offline, I'll go to your office tomorrow."