Editing My Heart

7. Plot twist

Still holding the letter like it was made of gold and punchlines, I made my way toward Lyra’s desk. She was busy typing, probably updating her theories about her mystery admirer being some brooding poet from HR.

This was going to be fun.

I cleared my throat, dramatically.

She looked up, eyes narrowing. "What now? Another lecture on how I can’t boil pasta?"

“Nope,” I said, smirking. "Just thought I’d help you cross a suspect off your list."

She raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

I placed the letter gently on her desk, right in front of her. "This. Fell out of someone’s pocket."

She blinked. Then stared at it like it might explode.

Her eyes scanned the poem.

Then froze.

Then shot up to me. "Where—"

I leaned in, lowering my voice like we were trading top-secret information. "Mr. Bhandari."

Silence.

You could feel her brain short-circuiting.

"What?!"

"Yup. Janitor by day. Secret admirer by… also day."

She covered her face with both hands. "I am never recovering from this."

I chuckled and leaned on the edge of her desk. “"Honestly? He’s got good rhyme game."

She peeked through her fingers. "I spent my precious nights analyzing handwriting and suspecting everyone from the printer guy to the IT intern. And it was Mr. freaking Bhandari?"

I shrugged. “"Plot twist, told you."

She let out a groan and dropped her head on the desk. "Burn it. Burn the whole thing."

I laughed again. "You sure? He thinks you're the balm to his chaos."

"Can you shut up? Wait—" Lyra narrowed her eyes, pointing at the bottom of the letter. "It’s signed with an ‘S’?"

I sipped my now-cold coffee and shrugged. "Yeah. His name’s Shyam Bhandari."

She blinked. "What? How do you know that?"

I grinned. "It’s on his ID badge. You know, the one hanging around his neck literally every day?"

She stared at me, stunned. "You mean the huge badge with his name printed in bold caps—that I somehow never read?"

I nodded solemnly. "Correct. Detective Lyra, missing clues right under her nose since 2001."

She groaned."I was out here imagining some deep mystery with a hot admirer someone with nice eyes and tragic backstory—"

"Girl, I’m sorry, but your fantasy just got wrecked by a father of two who mops the pantry."

She gave me the flattest look imaginable. "Shaun."

"Yes?"

"I will staple your mouth"

"Fair. But as your loving roommate and official nemesis, I must advise— don't wear bright red on your wedding it will be too-”

"Can you shut up or do you want to die right now?" She looked at me, giving me her deadly glare

Gulp, "uh no i am good"

Just as Lyra was busy dramatically sliding the letter off her desk, my phone buzzed again.

Mom. Again.

I sighed, stood up, and mumbled, “I’ll be right back. Try not to murder anyone while I’m gone- i need to record it for views if you do”

“ No! Don't come back” Lyra muttered

I stepped out to the empty corridor and answered.

“Yes, Maa?”

“Shaun beta, come home tomorrow, I have something important to talk about.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What kind of important?”

“You’ll see. And wear that nice navy blue shirt I got you. You look so handsome in it.”

That shirt again?

Oh no.

“Maa—please don’t say—”

“It’s nothing, just dinner. With a guest,” she said all sweet, which meant: she’s setting me up. Again.

“Maa, I’m hanging up,” I groaned.

“Okay, okay! Just don’t be late. 7 p.m. sharp.”

Click.

I stared at my phone.

There was no doubt in my mind—this was another "meet-the-girl" dinner.

I stood there for a second. Thinking.

Plotting.

Then slowly walked back into the office.

Lyra glanced up, eyeing me. “What was that face? And why did you come back here? You look like you just walked out of a villain origin story.”

I walked over to her desk, pulled up a chair beside her, leaned forward slightly, and said,

“Lyra... can I ask you something totally crazy?”

She blinked. “Why do I feel like I should say no?”

I smirked.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

She blinked.
Once. Twice.

"What the actual fu-"