Will you be my Salt- Chapter 4 :)

Will You be my Salt

Chapter - 4

MR. Benerji walks GOPAL DAS RAMJI, the owner of the Sharchans company, out of the office, beaming with pride. He gestures over his shoulder to Trisha and Shalini.

MR. Benerji   Excellent work, girls. Dismissed. Go back to your desks.

Trisha and Shalini nod vigorously, murmuring formal excuses as they step toward the door. But the second Benerji’s massive frame disappears down the corridor to see off the owner, Trisha slams the office door from the inside and whirls around, her face twisted in frantic determination.

TRISHA (Hissing loudly)

Quick! His desktop computer is broken, remember? He’s working from his personal laptop! Find it!

SHALINI (Gasping)

Are you insane?! We are frisking the boss's cabin?!

They begin tearing the room apart like wild animals—rifling through folders, checking under the leather couch cushion, overturning papers on the side tables. It is a complete, unkempt mess.

Suddenly, the doorknob SHACKLES violently. Both girls let out a suffocated shriek. Trisha dives behind a filing cabinet. Shalini, in a state of pure, unadulterated panic, drops to her knees, snatches a stray tissue from the desk, and frantically begins wiping the floor as her life depends on it.

The door pushes open. It isn't Benerji. It’s the office PEON, holding a broom. He stops dead in his tracks, staring at the absolute mess of papers and Shalini desperately scrubbing the tiles.

PEON (Confused)

Uh... Madam? I came to check if the room was clean.- I could sweep...

SHALINI (Loudly, voice cracking with fake anger)

It is not clean! Look at this dust! I am... inspecting the flooring! Go away, Suresh! Come back later!

The bewildered peon slowly backs out and shuts the door. Trisha pops her head out from behind the cabinet, her eyes landing on the bottom shelf of a glass display case—hidden right behind a heavy, decorative box of premium muesli, the Poison aka DOSALOKAWA.

TRISHA (Triumphant shriek)

Found it!

She snatches the sleek personal laptop, slaps it onto Benerji's desk, and whips the screen open. Her face immediately drops. A glowing box pops up on the screen: Enter Password.

TRISHA (Biting her nails furiously, stamping her foot)

No, no, no! It needs a password! Why does a 120-kilo man need this much digital security?! Shalini, if we could just open this damn laptop, I could erase that horrific email right from his inbox, swiftly walk out of here, and be free forever!

SHALINI (Pulling her hair)

We don't know his password, Trisha! Put it back! He's coming—

The heavy footsteps echo outside. Trisha shoves the laptop back into the glass case just as the door flies open. Mr Benerji steps back in, rubbing his hands together. He stops, surprised to see them still standing there in the messy room.

MR. Benerji

You both are still here? Why are you not working on the draft? Everything is ready now! You just have to quickly write up that short draft matching the pitch, and we'll hit the market. Just go! Get them, girls! Break a leg!

He gives a booming, encouraging laugh. Trisha forces a manic, wide smile, grabs Shalini by the back of her collar, and pulls her up, showing her out of the door into the corridor. But instead of leaving, Trisha pivots right back into the room, blocking Benerji’s view.

TRISHA (Voice incredibly high-pitched)

Sir! Small problem! My laptop is completely dead. It won't turn on. Zero electricity. Can I please, please, please work on your laptop? Can I just take it for a little bit?

Benerji narrows his eyes, his brow furrowing into a suspicious frown as he observes her unusual, erratic behaviour.

MR Benerji (Squinting)

Trisha... you are always a loud personality, but today it is too much. Are you high on caffeine? What is wrong with you? And wait...

 He looks over at the glass display case, noticing the laptop peeking out from behind the muesli box.

MR. Benerji

My laptop wasn't sitting there earlier. Why is it out?

Trisha doesn't hesitate for a single second. She launches into full, dramatic, emotional blackmail, her voice dripping with fake hurt.

TRISHA (Gesticulating wildly, pouting)

Sir! How can you be so suspicious of me? I just handed you a gorgeous, magnificent, multi-million-dollar marketing pitch on a silver platter! The owner is practically crying with joy! And you can't even trust me with your laptop for a few hours so I can write the perfect draft for your company?!

Benerji hesitates, completely overwhelmed by her explosive energy and guilt-tripping. He sighs heavily, walks over, logs into the laptop with a quick swipe of his fingers, and hands it over.

MR. Benerji

Fine! Take it. Write the draft, and return it to me in a few hours. Don't break it.

TRISHA (Snatching it)

You are a saint, Sir!

Trisha turns and runs frantically out of the office, clutching the open, unlocked laptop to her chest like a newborn baby. As she dashes down the hallway, she whips out her phone with one hand, typing a rapid-fire WhatsApp message to Shalini:

“GOT THE LAPTOP. UNLOCKED. MEET ME RIGHT NOW AT THE FIRST FLOOR CUBICLES NEXT TO THE SHARED STAIRS. HURRY!!!”

The corridor is quiet, but the air is thick with tension. TRISHA sprints around the corner, clutching the wide-open, logged-in laptop to her chest like stolen government blueprints.

SHALINI is already there, pacing. The second she sees Trisha, she locks into position like a trained guard dog at a military checkpoint. Her head snaps left and right, her eyes scanning the hallway for any sign of management or corporate spies.

SHALINI (In a harsh, intense whisper)

Go, go, go! Covert ops! I’ll watch the perimeter. If anyone comes near this cubicle, I’ll cough loudly. Move!

Trisha dives into the chair, slamming the laptop onto the desk. Her heart is hammering against her ribs as her trembling fingers fly across the trackpad. She opens Gmail. The screen loads.

Inbox... 

Her eyes frantically scan the lines of text. There it is. A draft email titled: "PRODIGY REVIEW - DOSOLAKAWA / DEATH BY BAD COOKING." Sent exactly twenty-two minutes ago.

TRISHA (Gasping for breath)

I found it. I found the target.

SHALINI (Glancing nervously over the cubicle wall)

Then destroy it, Trisha! Destroy it before it destroys us!

Trisha hovers her pointer over the icon. Her index finger trembles violently above the trackpad, hovering just millimetres away from the digital executioner. She takes one deep, dramatic breath—and clicks.

A prompt flashes: Are you sure you want to permanently delete this item?

She slams her finger onto the ENTER key.

Poof. The email vanishes into thin digital air. It is completely, irrevocably gone.

Trisha explodes out of her chair, jumping up and down in the cramped cubicle space, her hands raised in absolute triumph.

TRISHA (Squealing, whispering loudly)

Mission accomplished! Mission accomplished! The eagle has landed! The evidence is incinerated!

Shalini abandons her guard post, running into the cubicle and throwing her arms around Trisha. They hug each other tightly, bouncing on their heels.

SHALINI & TRISHA (In unison, jiggling like ecstatic chipmunks)

We won the battle! We won the battle!

JAYESH (peeping pevert)

Well, well, well. What’s the big gig here?

The girls freeze mid-hug. JAYESH—the office's undisputed peeping master and gossip king—is leaning over the cubicle partition, staring at them with narrow, intensely suspicious eyes.

JAYESH

What's new happening? Why are we laughing so much? What's the secret?

Shalini breaks the hug instantly, popping out in front of Trisha like a human shield, her face locking into a flawlessly fake, bright expression.

SHALINI: Nothing, Jayesh! Absolutely nothing! Trisha has a huge date tonight, and we are just celebrating! We're going shopping for her new dress right after work!

Jayesh’s face contorts into a deeply creepy, disappointed squint. He arches an eyebrow, leaning in closer.

JAYESH: Oh... a date? Who is the lucky boy, huh? You know, Trisha... I’ve asked you so many times to go out for coffee. Why don't you just come with me instead? It will be so much better. I’ll make a very good company for you.

Trisha slowly tilts her head back, staring straight up at the acoustic office ceiling tiles, her expression a mix of pure agony and a silent plea.

TRISHA (Under her breath)

Please help me, God...

(Looking back at Jayesh with a forced, sweet smile)

Jayesh... you are like my sweet, sweet little brother. I just don't feel like that about you, please. Don't make this difficult for me. Okay? Bye!

Jayesh scowls like a petulant child who just got his candy snatched away. He forcibly caps his heels, tapping his foot hard against the linoleum floor, turns on his heel, and mops his way out of the cubicles, muttering under his breath.

The second he disappears down the shared stairs, Trisha and Shalini let out a synchronised sigh of relief, giggling and jiggling like chipmunks all over again.   :)

The chaos of the day finally settles into a peaceful hum. Trisha is back at her desk, her loud energy channelled into pure, brilliant creativity. Her fingers dance across the keyboard, typing out a gorgeous, mouth-watering marketing piece for the muesli, centring entirely on the concept of the "morning dessert."...... DOSALOKAWA..

It is flawless. It hits every single note.

With absolute, serene calmness, she hits save onto Mr Benerji’s laptop and mails it to herself too. Across the desk, Shalini finishes her own structural support piece and hits 'Send' too.

The clock on the wall ticks to exactly 5:30 PM. For the first time in weeks, they are leaving the office exactly on time.

DOMINO'S OUTLET - EVENING

The bright, cheerful aroma of melting cheese and baked dough fills the air, a stark contrast to the suffocating corporate walls they spent the day in. Shalini leans against the ordering counter, looking at Trisha.

SHALINI

Honestly, today was so bizarre, haphazard, and completely torturous. We deserve to decompress the stress. This little victory dinner is non-negotiable.

TRISHA (Nodding vigorously)

I feel like I aged ten years between two and three o'clock. I'm going to order a massive pizza and—

Trisha steps forward in the queue, completely distracted by the menu overhead. She takes one blind step sideways—

OOMPH.

She collides hard against a solid, unyielding chest. It feels less like bumping into a person and more like walking straight into a brick wall. She stumbles back, her eyes travelling up.

Standing right in front of her is a strong, effortlessly masculine guy. He stands at a perfectly athletic 5'8", with broad shoulders that fill out his casual jacket, and an aura that completely stops Trisha's loud mouth dead in its tracks.

Who is this mysterious 5'8" guy?