The Illusion of Love

Every Tuesday, Trina brought flowers to work.

Not extravagant bouquets that announced themselves, but small bunches tucked into a clear glass vase. White lilies one week. Pink carnations the next. Once, cheerful yellow tulips that seemed determined to brighten an office lit by fluorescent panels and quarterly targets.

By ten in the morning, someone would invariably wander over to her desk. 

"Fresh flowers again?"
"They're beautiful."
"Where do you find these?"

Trina always looked up with the same warm smile. "They're from the little florist near my apartment."

She never sounded rehearsed, though she must have answered the question fifty times.  

From his desk across the aisle, Shreyas watched these tiny exchanges the way some people watched sunsets. They lasted barely a minute, but somehow managed to leave the office feeling a little lighter.

It wasn't the flowers. It was the ease with which she occupied every space she entered.

---

When Shreyas first joined Arctiq Solutions eighteen months earlier, Trina had been assigned to help him with onboarding.
"Your laptop will refuse to connect to the VPN at least three times this week," she'd said with a grin.

"It already has."

"There you go. You're officially one of us."

He had laughed harder than the joke deserved. Later, he wondered if she had noticed.

Over the next few weeks, he found himself discovering reasons to walk past her desk.

Sometimes he genuinely needed clarification on a project. Sometimes he already knew the answer. She never made anyone feel like they were interrupting her. She listened without glancing at her monitor.

She remembered details people had casually mentioned weeks earlier. 

She laughed easily. When she complimented someone's presentation, it never sounded obligatory.

If someone looked stressed before a client meeting, she'd lean over and whisper something that made them smile. 

There was nothing dramatic about her. No grand gestures. Just hundreds of tiny kindnesses that accumulated quietly.

Or so Shreyas believed.

---

His friends noticed long before he admitted it to himself.

"You're taking the long route to the cafeteria again," Sameer observed one afternoon.

"I'm stretching my legs."

"Your legs only stretch past Trina's desk."

Shreyas rolled his eyes. "You're imagining things."

Sameer took one look at him. "No. You are."

---

The teasing should have embarrassed him. Instead, it gave shape to something he'd been carefully avoiding.  He liked her. Not with the urgency of teenage infatuation. Something gentler.

Something that crept into ordinary days. He found himself noticing details that had nothing to do with work. The tiny silver earrings she wore almost every day. The way she tucked loose strands of hair behind one ear before presenting. The habit of doodling geometric patterns while listening during meetings.

She preferred black coffee. She always removed the lettuce from sandwiches. She never missed wishing people on their birthdays.

He knew all this. Yet he had no idea what books she read. Or whether she cried during sad films.

Or what frightened her. Or what made her angry. 

He mistook familiarity for knowing someone.

---

There were moments that kept the hope alive.

Once, she saved him the last blueberry muffin from the pantry.

"I know you usually come late."  He spent an unreasonable amount of time wondering how she knew his breakfast habits.

Another afternoon, while reviewing a presentation together, she leaned over his chair to point at a chart.

For three glorious seconds, he forgot every word she was saying.

That evening he replayed the moment while brushing his teeth. His reflection looked ridiculous. He laughed at himself.

Then replayed it again.

---

Winter brought annual planning.

Budgets.  Resource allocation. Travel schedules.

Their manager, Vivek, walked into the conference room carrying a printed sheet.

"The Ireland deployment is confirmed."

The room instantly came alive. Two weeks in Dublin to work with the European client. Every engineer secretly hoped for an overseas assignment.

Vivek continued calling out the team.

"Ananya."

"Raghav."

"Trina." Shreyas smiled despite himself.

One more name.

"Shreyas."

For a second he forgot where Ireland was.  He simply knew they'd be spending two weeks together.

---

That evening, Sameer found him reading travel blogs.

"You suddenly seem interested in Irish history?"

"I thought I'd explore."

Sameer peered over his shoulder.

"'Most Romantic Cafés in Dublin.'"

Shreyas quickly switched tabs. "It was...recommended."

"Of course it was." smirked Sameer as he walked away. 

---

The flight was nearly ten hours with a stop in Doha. Trina occupied the aisle seat across from him.

They spoke occasionally. About movies. About jet lag.  About how neither of them had packed enough warm clothes.

Nothing unusual. Nothing that justified the ridiculous optimism blooming inside him.

When the plane finally descended through thick grey clouds, Ireland looked exactly like every postcard he'd ever seen.

Green fields. Stone cottages. Rain.  Endless rain.

"It feels like someone forgot to switch the sky on," Trina said, looking out the window.

He laughed. He had always liked the way she described things.

---

The first crack appeared before they had even left the airport.

An elderly couple stood near the baggage carousel, struggling with two oversized suitcases that refused to come off the belt.

Without thinking, Shreyas walked over.

"Can I help?"

The old man smiled with visible relief.

"Oh, thank you."

Shreyas lifted both cases onto a trolley.

By the time he caught up with his team near immigration, Trina looked mildly impatient.

"There you are."

"Sorry."

"We almost thought you'd disappeared."

"The couple needed help."

She glanced over her shoulder. "Oh."  Then shrugged.

"We should hurry. Immigration queues get horrible."

It wasn't what she said. It was how quickly the moment disappeared from her mind.

Shreyas dismissed the feeling. People reacted differently. That was all.

Or so he told himself.

---

*To be continued...*