Chapter 8: The Final Confrontation

Unlike everyone else, my colleague was unfazed. He leaned back, arms behind his head, and announced, "Ho gaya drama, ab kaam karo sab log!"

A fresher piped up, "Aapko tension nahi ho raha? Kahin aap hi toh..."

He laughed, boasting, "Main toh asset hoon company ka. Mujhe thodi na nikalega koi!"

I kept my face blank. Let him enjoy his delusions.

Suddenly, my colleague patted my shoulder. "You might not be so lucky. You’re new here, so it’d be cheap to fire you. Naye logon ko toh sabse pehle nikalte hain, samjha?"

People started whispering, sending me sidelong glances. They forgot my transfer was already final. Being new meant I’d worked everywhere, making me the perfect candidate for HQ.

My colleague suddenly turned to HR: "Can you give me his address? Mere paise ka sawaal hai, bhai. Address do, varna fir se dhoondhna padega."

HR looked awkward. "Sorry, yeh confidential hai. Nahi de sakte."

My colleague got anxious, pacing, raising his voice. "Kal ko yeh nikal gaya toh paisa kaun dega? Address de de seedha!"

I said coldly, "Main yahin hoon, kahin nahi jaa raha. Tumhara paisa tumhe mil jayega."

He walked over to HR, grabbed the files, and started rifling through them. HR panicked, "Pagal ho gaye ho kya? Yeh file mat kholo!"

He made a public spectacle of it, as if auditioning for a reality show. HR sighed, "If you really have a financial dispute, call the police. But we can’t give you employee information now."

Only then did my colleague back down, turning to me with a smug look. "Dekhte hain, kaun pehle police bulata hai."

HR couldn’t help but say, "Yahan office hai, bazaar nahi. Shaanti rakho, please."

My colleague sighed dramatically, "It’s not my fault. He said himself when he signed that we’re done. Who knew the company would announce layoffs right after? Kismet hi kharab hai meri."

He was so over the top that even his earlier supporters laughed. Someone giggled, "Bhai, ab zyada drama mat kar. Film mil jayegi tujhe."

He sneered, "Would he treat us? Didn’t you hear him say there’s nothing between us? Khud bola tha—khatam sab kuch. Bolo, galat keh raha hoon?"

I nodded. "Right. Our relationship is over. Bilkul sahi. Khatam."

He clicked his tongue. "No need to pretend. If you’d been nice from the start, maybe I’d have cut you some slack. But now? If you don’t pay me back on payday, I’m calling the police. Last warning hai. Din gin lo."

I sighed. I’m the one who should call the police. If only he knew what trouble he was really in.

He shook his head and walked off. Everyone else started packing up, bracing for the layoffs. Some updated their CVs on Naukri. I wasn’t in a rush. I pulled out the layoff list and opened it slowly, letting the suspense build.

My heart thudded in my chest as I picked up the layoff list, the rustle of paper loud in the hushed room. "Next, I’ll read off some names. If I call your name, please stay. Everyone else, please leave."

Mouths fell open. Especially my colleague—his eyes wide, face frozen in disbelief.

He stammered, "Wait, whose names are you reading? Mera naam toh nahi hai, na?"

"The layoff list. I’m in charge of this round. Please be quiet. Jo naam bulaya hai wohi rukega. Baaki sab jao."

His face went pale. Now he understood—his arrogance had finally caught up to him. Those who’d tried to help him earlier shifted in their seats.

He asked, stunned, "You’re the specialist?"

I ignored him and continued. "Over the past month, I’ve worked with each department and thoroughly investigated everyone’s performance. Sab kuch procedure ke hisaab se ho raha hai. Koi bhed-bhav nahi."

I read the names. The room was tense. Those who’d tried to spend my money earlier now feared for their own jobs. What a turn of tables!

My colleague’s face was ashen. He asked, "What did the boss mean by ungrateful wolf? Is he firing me, and you tried to save me? Sach bol, yaar. Tu hi toh meri taraf tha, na?"

I said, "Your name hasn’t been called yet. Please leave. Tumhara number baad mein aayega. Tab tak bahar jao."

He anxiously leaned over to peek at my list. "Is my name really on it? I was wrong before—I’ll tear up the IOU right now!"

He pulled out the IOU and shredded it in seconds, folding his hands briefly in a small gesture of regret, lowering his eyes. "Bas, yeh le, khatam! Bhool ja sab kuch!"

I put away the list and said quietly, "Let’s keep things professional. We agreed—there’s nothing between us now. You said it yourself. You’re not going to take that back, are you?"

For a moment, he looked like he might protest. But then he just stared at the shredded IOU, silent, as the ceiling fan spun above us—moving, but going nowhere.