Mornings in the office had a rhythm. Not exactly a melody, more like a looping background track: badge scan, elevator hum, coffee machine sputtering, the muted patter of rain on the windows today. Nothing dramatic, but not entirely forgettable either.
I got in a little earlier than usual. Not by much, just enough to feel slightly smug about it. Ever since Kenji and I had that talk, the one that wasn't really about work but ended with us both pretending it was, I'd been trying to pull my mornings together. Some days that meant eating breakfast. Today it meant noticing that the receptionist swapped her sunflower mug for one with cherry blossoms.
It's weird what stands out when your brain's too tired to be useful but too wired to rest.
It's been a little while since we came back to our original floors after getting transferred to UI Testing temporarily. Thankfully, all of our colleagues came back to our original floor, including Lin.
The elevator let out its usual tired chime on our floor. IT was already arguing near the printer. Something about a recursive loop breaking the deployment queue again. I nodded to them in passing, doing my best to avoid eye contact that could lead to being roped in.
The office had this startup, but not really feel to it. Plants in every corner, jazz coming from a speaker nobody officially controlled, a vague sense of organized chaos. My desk was near the edge of our pod cluster, diagonally across from Kenji. He was already seated, hunched over his monitor.
"Morning, Mr. Early," he said, sipping from a stainless steel tumbler covered in anime stickers. "What's the occasion?"
"I slept through my first three alarms and still managed to beat you in. That's the occasion," I said, setting my things down.
He finally glanced over. "Or maybe you're just subconsciously trying to impress a certain project manager who favors lavender sweaters and minimalistic spreadsheets."
I didn't answer. He didn't need me to.
Sure enough, Lin's seat was already occupied, sort of. Her sweater was folded neatly over the backrest, and her tablet was docked. She must've stepped out for coffee.
Speak of the devil.
She walked back in just then, two paper cups in hand. Kayla was with her, laughing mid-sentence. Lin looked different today. Not dramatically, just enough to notice. Her hair was tied back with a silver clip, and her blouse was a soft shade of blue that made her eyes look... never mind. Point is, she looked nice. She always did.
Kenji followed my gaze and exhaled. "Dude. At least pretend you're not in a slice-of-life."
"Shut up."
"I'm serious. You're like, one awkward smile away from the opening credits rolling."
I was spared from more teasing by Luis walking in late with a soggy umbrella. His tie was crooked, and his shoes squeaked with each step.
"Meeting in fifteen!" he called out, raising a hand dramatically as if he were announcing a play. "And the projector is broken again, so someone better bring a whiteboard marker that isn't dry!"
"Bet," Kayla said from across the room. "I got purple."
Of course she did.
The meeting room was small, mostly glass, with beanbags no one ever used. I took a seat near the back, across from Lin. She was already jotting notes, neat cursive and no doodles, which always baffled me. How did she manage to stay that focused?
"I swear we've rotated this UI project more times than the Earth," she whispered, pen tapping against her notepad.
"Builds character," I said.
"More like chips away at what's left of it."
She giggled softly.
The meeting was the usual: Luis throwing out ideas, Kenji offering low-effort sarcasm disguised as "devil's advocate," and Kayla asking sharp questions that made everyone shift in their seats. Eventually, Lin spoke up.
"We're not getting consistent feedback between design and dev. We should build in sprint demos, even short ones. Just enough to close the loop."
Luis nodded. "Alright. Let's have Kenji and our boy here take that on the next cycle."
I blinked. Kenji raised an eyebrow.
"Congrats," he whispered. "We're married now."
Lunch felt like an exhale I needed. The break room buzzed with conversations, microwaves fighting for dominance, and the unmistakable scent of Kayla's leftover tikka masala. She and Kenji had taken over their usual table, laughing over their shared tradition of "Who's Worse?" a game where they traded the most cursed user support tickets.
"I had someone plug their keyboard into the HDMI port and then call me because their monitor went dark," Kayla said, deadpan.
Kenji whistled. "Hard to top, but I once spent three days helping someone who kept typing their password into the Wi-Fi name field."
I slid into the seat next to them with my sad salad and a fork that bent when I stabbed into a crouton. Lin followed a few minutes later, carrying her own lunch in a glass container.
She sat next to me. "Hey," she said, voice quiet, but warm.
"Hey."
She tilted her head slightly. "You alright?"
"Yeah. Just thinking."
"About the new sprint?"
I nodded, grateful she gave me an excuse.
"I've been thinking too," she said. "Not just about work. My lease ends next month. My dad wants me back upstate."
I paused mid-chew.
"Oh."
"Nothing's decided," she added quickly. "I'm still figuring it out. But... yeah."
We sat in silence for a bit. Her words stuck with me. That slight maybe hovering in the air like it was waiting to land somewhere.
The afternoon rolled in with the gray sky dimming the usual sunlight that would filter through the office's wide windows. There was a calmness to the gloom.
Kenji and I had been assigned a corner table in the test feedback workspace, slightly removed from the main bullpen, surrounded by whiteboards littered with diagrams and feedback loops. Someone had drawn a small chibi version of Luis in the corner with "I love timelines" scribbled in pink marker.
"You'd think a UI testing space would look more polished," I said, setting down my laptop.
Kenji adjusted his chair and leaned back with a stretch. "Nah, this is where the magic happens. Or where it dies."
I gave him a look.
"You've said 'huh' three times in the past minute," he said.
I hesitated, my fingers hovering over my keyboard. "Lin might move."
Kenji gave a slow nod. "Yeah, she said something to Kayla too. Sounds like her family's pushing for it."
I stared at my screen, the code blurred into nonsense.
"It caught me off guard. I mean… things were finally starting to feel normal. Good, even."
"Welcome to adulthood," Kenji said, leaning forward and clasping his hands. "You start getting close to someone, and boom. life hits with a plot twist."
I gave a half smile, then exhaled. "I know it's dumb to get ahead of myself, but I keep thinking, what if I actually had a shot? Like, really had one?"
"You do," Kenji said bluntly. "But the question is, what are you gonna do about it?"
I blinked.
"You can sit here and hope the universe throws you a bone," he said, "or you can be real with her. At least then, whatever happens, you won't regret not trying."
I stared at him for a long second, then looked down.
"I keep thinking... what if I missed my shot?"
Kenji leaned forward. "So don't miss it."
"It's not that easy."
"It never is. But if you say nothing, you'll always wonder. And regret's a worse roommate than fear."
"Since when did you start giving advice?"
"Since I saw you go full anime protagonist every time Lin walks into the room."
I huffed out a laugh. "You're annoying."
"Yep. And right."
Across the office, Kayla was deep into a UX meeting but kept glancing at her phone every few minutes. Once it ended, she made her way over to the test area and plopped into the extra chair near our table.
"I swear, if one more stakeholder uses the word 'synergy,' I'm going to legally change my name to Bandwidth."
Kenji smirked. "I'd call you that."
She rolled her eyes. "You'd call me that anyway."
Their banter had evolved lately. It used to be sharp, now it was easy. Predictable in a comforting way. She poked fun at his snacks. He always remembered to bring her favorite tea. They didn't talk about it, but something had shifted.
"Are you two flirting or just stuck in a sitcom?" I asked.
Kayla blinked. "You're one to talk."
Kenji grinned. "Yeah, Mr. Cherry-Blossom-Gaze. Man's one eye contact away from writing poetry."
"Oh shut up," I muttered, throwing a pencil at him.
They both laughed as I muttered something inaudible and went back to pretending I had a job.
But truthfully, I liked this. The small moments. The everyday nonsense. The people who made the job tolerable. Better than tolerable.
After work, the sky was finally clear. City lights flickered on as I sat outside on a bench near the bike racks, phone in hand, thumb hovering over a message.
Me:
Still up for dinner tomorrow?
She replied almost immediately.
Lin:
Of course :) Same yakitori spot?
Me:
Yeah, 6:30? I'll walk you there after work.
Lin:
Perfect. I'm looking forward to it.
I sat there for a moment, rereading it. Not overthinking, for once. Just... letting it sit.
Across the street, in a café near the station, Kayla sipped her chai slowly.
"Ever think about quitting?" she asked, watching the foam swirl.
"All the time," Kenji said. "But then I think about what I'd miss. And who I'd miss."
Kayla hummed in agreement. "Sometimes I wish I could just run a bakery in the middle of nowhere. No emails. No deadlines. Just sourdough and jazz music."
Kenji chuckled. "You do realize bread is harder to manage than software, right?"
She smiled. "Still sounds peaceful."
There was a lull between them, not awkward, but thoughtful.=
"Hey," Kenji said after a minute. "Can I ask you something?"
She looked up.
"Yeah?"
He didn't meet her eyes at first. "Do you think people like us ever get something simple? Like, real stuff. Love. All that."
Kayla blinked. "Where's this coming from?"
He shrugged. "Just been thinking. Watching our boy fumble around with Lin. Got me wondering."
She smiled gently. "It's harder. We overthink. We guard too much. But yeah, I think we do. Eventually."
Kenji gave a slow nod. Then, without looking at her, he asked, "And what if the right person's been sitting across from you this whole time?"
Kayla's breath caught in her throat. She stared at him, eyes searching, but soft.
Kenji finally looked up. "Too soon?"
"No," she said quietly. "Not too soon."