Our Secret Love : Office Romance.

4. Tara

I don't know if I heard him correct yesterday night or not, but I'm standing in the WOS architecture lobby.

I see a huge sculpture of Hephaestus, the Greek god of fire, metalworking, sculpture, and craftsmanship.

I've always had just one thought in mind whenever I see this piece of art. Hephaestus wasn't always the respected god of craftsmanship. He was born deformed and cast out of Mount Olympus by his parents. This rejection could fuel his determination to become a master smith, ultimately earning the respect of the gods and creating magnificent works for them. This rags-to-riches journey adds a layer of depth and resilience to his character.

For a normal person, the sculpture being here in the lobby makes sense. It goes well with the aesthetics of making this firm look regal and ancient. But all I could see, knowing the story inside out, was the meaning and value it brought by being here. I know for a fact that Dhruv knows the story behind it, and it isn't put here just for aesthetics.

Dhruv never does things half-assed. He does things only when he's assessed the situation. Who am I kidding? I've never seen or known Dhruv watch a movie or television. He only prefers reading. He reads his news every morning. He reads articles, stories, novels, and what not.

The receptionist, a young woman with a power suit and a smile that seemed painted on, gave me a once-over. "Hi," I started, voice cracking a little. "I'm here to see Dhruv Singhania. He was expecting me."

An eyebrow shot up on her perfectly made-up face. "Dhruv Singhania?" She tapped on her keyboard, the sharp clicks echoing in the vast lobby. "There's no appointment for Mr. Singhania today."

My stomach did a nervous flip. "Are you sure? He specifically asked me to come in."

The receptionist pursed her lips and reached for the phone. Her voice was clipped as she spoke in hushed tones. I couldn't catch the words, but the tension in the air tightened like a tuned guitar string.
Finally, she hung up. "Mr. Singhania is unexpectedly out of the office," she announced, her voice cool. "But he did leave instructions for your arrival."

My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. "Instructions?" I echoed, barely a whisper.

She gestured towards a sleek black folder on the counter. "He left this for you. There's a tablet too, preloaded with a 3D architectural model. He wants you to fill out the interview form in the folder and explore the model. You can finish it and wait on the 5th floor, where interviews are being held."

I stared at the folder, a knot of curiosity and apprehension tightening in my gut. Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and reached for the folder. The receptionist directed me to a waiting area.

What on earth had Dhruv gotten me into this time?

—

The sterile white walls of the interview room felt like they were judging me. Dhruv sat across from me, a mountain of seriousness behind his polished mahogany desk. Each click of his pen against the surface was like a tiny hammer blow to my already jittery nerves.

"Alright, Tara," Dhruv finally spoke, his voice as devoid of warmth as the room itself. "The folder mentions you have an architecture degree. Does anything else stand out on your resume that might make you a good fit for this... unconventional interview?"

Okay, unconventional? I tried not to let my smile turn into a full-blown grin. "Unconventional? I'd say intriguing. My passion for architecture goes beyond blueprints, Mr. Singhania. It's about breathing life into spaces, creating a dialogue between the structure and its inhabitants."

A flicker of surprise crossed Dhruv's face, a tiny crack in his stoic facade. "Dialogue, huh? Sounds a bit poetic for this line of work."

"Perhaps," I conceded, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "But don't underestimate the power of human connection within a building's design. Take the sculpture downstairs, for example."

Dhruv's pen tapping stopped dead. "The what?"

"The giant marble dude in the lobby," I clarified, unable to contain a giggle at his bewildered expression.

"Hephaestus," Dhruv interrupted, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"The Greek god of fire, metalworking, sculpture, and craftsmanship."

"I know that."

"I was wondering earlier as to why you chose to design this firm the way it is."

"What do you mean by that?" He narrowed his eyes at me.

"It's good looking but, doesn't quite go with the stereotypical architecture firm."

I watched his face for a reaction, anything. A flicker of something crossed his features before he cleared his throat, regaining his composure. "Interesting interpretation. Now, onto the 3D model on the tablet. It's a proposal for a new community center. Tell me what you see."

The next fifteen minutes were a blur of navigation through the intricate 3D model. I pointed out potential flaws, suggested improvements for natural light flow, and even proposed an innovative rooftop garden design. The whole time, Dhruv remained a silent statue, an unreadable sphinx across the desk. Frustration gnawed at me, but I pushed it down, focusing on showcasing my skills.

Finally, I leaned back, feeling a nervous twang in my voice. "So, Mr. Singhania, what are your thoughts?"

Dhruv sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Don't be so coy, Tara. You can call me Dhruv and  your architectural knowledge is sound; your ideas are...bold, to say the least. However, your unorthodox approach and...exuberance..."

"Exuberance?" I echoed, a playful smile tugging at my lips. "Isn't a little enthusiasm a good thing in this field?"

I could have sworn I saw the corner of his mouth twitch, a hint of a smile threatening to break through the stoic mask. "Look, Tara," he said, his voice softening a sliver. "I typically don't hire interns this way. But I have to."

My heart leaped like a startled rabbit. "So, does that mean...?"

"This is a trial run," Dhruv interrupted, seriousness returning to his voice in a snap. "Three months, intern position. Report directly to me. You impress me with your work ethic, and if you keep your...enthusiasm...somewhat in check, there's a chance for a permanent position."

Three months! I could work with that. A wide grin spread across my face. "Three months is all I need! Thank you, Mr. Singhania; I won't disappoint you!"

He just heaved a frustrating sigh.

"We'll see about that, Ms. Tara. We'll see about that."

My stomach fluttered with a mix of excitement and nerves. Working with Mr. Serious, the man who seemed to exist on a plane of perpetual stoicism, is going to be a challenge. And who knows, maybe I could even crack a smile or two on that handsome face of his. After all, a little optimism never hurts anyone, right?