Our Secret Love : Office Romance.

8. Tara

(A month into the internship)

The air in the conference room crackled with a tension that could have powered a small city. My heart pounded a frantic rhythm against my ribs as Nikitha presented her architectural plans for the new wing. They were impressive, undeniably so, but they prioritised aesthetics over functionality in a way that made my skin crawl.

"Breathtaking, isn't it?" Nikitha purred, gesturing at the holographic display showcasing a sleek, glass-encased structure that seemed to defy gravity. "Floor-to-ceiling windows offer panoramic views, and the use of natural light eliminates the need for excessive artificial illumination."

Everyone murmured their agreement, all except me. The environmental impact of such a design sent a shiver down my spine. "But Nikitha," I interjected, my voice surprisingly steady despite the tremor in my hands, "have we considered the environmental cost of all that glass? The heating and cooling requirements would be astronomical."

Nikitha's smile faltered for a brief moment, a flicker of annoyance crossing her perfectly sculpted features. "Sustainability is important, Tara," she conceded, her voice dripping with condescension, "but there's a balance to be struck. Clients prioritise aesthetics, and frankly, this design is a showstopper."

I felt a surge of anger rise in my chest. Clients might prioritise aesthetics, but surely there is a way to achieve them without sacrificing environmental responsibility. "There are sustainable alternatives, Nikitha," I pressed, my voice firm. "Advanced glazing technologies can offer the same level of transparency with significantly lower energy consumption."

Dhruv, who had been watching the exchange with a stoic expression, finally spoke. His voice, when it came, was colder than I'd ever heard it. "Tara, we appreciate your enthusiasm, but Nikitha's design is well within established parameters. We can explore alternative options for less prominent structures, but for the centerpiece of the project, visual impact is paramount."

His words felt like a slap in the face. Here I was, eager to contribute, to make a real difference, and Dhruv was shutting me down, siding with Nikitha without a second thought. The anger that flared in my chest was tinged with a deeper hurt, a raw vulnerability I hadn't anticipated.

"But—" I began, desperate to be heard.

Dhruv's icy stare silenced me. "Let's move on," he said curtly, his gaze flickering pointedly towards Nikitha.

I could see the smug face she had for a second. She's reminding me silently who's the boss.

The rest of the meeting was an excruciating exercise in forced participation. My ideas were dismissed one after another, a suffocating sense of powerlessness washing over me. This wasn't the mentorship I'd envisioned. This felt like a deliberate silencing.

When the meeting finally ended, I scrambled out of the room, the sting of Dhruv's rejection burning in my eyes. I didn't care if it was unprofessional; I just needed to escape. He hadn't seen the spark of defiance in my eyes—the simmering anger that threatened to boil over. He hadn't seen the flicker of hurt that crossed my face before I schooled my features into a mask of indifference. He hadn't seen anything but an unwelcome disruption to the tightly crafted world he'd built with Nikitha.

Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring the sterile hallway as I practically ran to my cubicle. Slamming the door shut, I sank into my chair, the weight of Dhruv's dismissal crushing me. My breath hitched in my throat, a sob threatening to erupt.

Just then, a knock on the door startled me. Wiping my eyes hastily, I forced a semblance of composure before calling out, "Come in." The door creaked open, revealing Dhruv.

He stood there for a moment, his face unreadable. Part of me wanted to lash out, to express the full force of my anger and hurt. But another part, a foolish, hopeful part, clung to the idea that maybe, just maybe, he'd come to apologise.

"Tara," he began, his voice clipped, "about the meeting..."

The air crackled with unspoken tension. Before he could finish, I cut him off, my voice surprisingly steady despite the tremor in my hands.

"Don't," I said, each word laced with ice. "There's nothing to say. It's clear you have your vision for this project, and apparently, it doesn't include any room for innovative ideas, especially not from someone like me."

Dhruv's jaw clenched, a flicker of something akin to frustration crossing his features. "That's not fair," he countered, his voice low. "We value your input, Tara. But Nikitha's design..."

"Is perfect?" I finished for him, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "Classic, sophisticated—exactly what the client expects. No room for a little...disruption, a little challenge to the status quo, right?"

The words hung heavy in the air, a stark accusation. Dhruv's gaze flickered away, his jaw working silently. For a long moment, the only sound was the hum of the fluorescent lights.

Finally, Dhruv spoke, his voice laced with a weariness that surprised me. "Look, Tara, I—"

He stopped; his sentence was left unfinished. The frustration that had been simmering beneath the surface of his stoicism seemed to bubble up for a moment, a flicker of vulnerability in his usually icy eyes. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by his usual mask of professional detachment.

"Let's just...focus on completing the tasks at hand," he finished curtly. With that, he turned on his heel and strode out of the cubicle, leaving me alone with the echo of his words and the sting of his dismissal.

Tears welled up in my eyes once more, blurring the already blurry image on my computer screen. Was this what I had signed up for? An internship where my ideas were dismissed, my voice unheard, and my presence a mere inconvenience?