An Observer! 🌼

Every morning, when the glass doors of Novacorp slid open, Shriya felt a part of herself vanish. The part that hummed old Hindi songs while cooking, that smiled at street dogs, that paused to smell night jasmine on her way home—none of that fit past the biometric scanner. She was the Assistant Communications Manager here, a polished title wrapped in endless spreadsheets, muted meetings, and mechanical smiles. But what chipped her spirit most wasn't the long hours or the never-ending deadlines. It was one question. Always the same. Always from Mr. Arvind Khanna, her boss, with his grey suit, colder eyes, and a habit of asking without looking. "Who are you?" He said it without pause, as if it was part of the welcome script. Whenever she made a presentation, shared a strategy, or even offered a suggestion, he’d stop her midway— "Who are you?" Not to know her, no. But to remind her that she was no one. That her words didn’t matter. At first, she smiled through it, c...