The wind sliced through Mira's coat as she stood outside her old apartment building, heart racing from her confrontation with Ibrahim. Every word he'd said echoed in her ears like a ticking time bomb. He didn't confess—but he didn't deny it either. That smug look had said it all.
She didn't wait. She rushed back to Noah's place, where his warm apartment and sharp mind were her only refuge.
Noah looked up the moment she stepped in. "What happened?"
"I saw Ibrahim," she said breathlessly, setting her bag down. "He knows something. He was there, Noah. He practically admitted it."
Noah's jaw tightened. "Then it's time we bring him down."
---
Later that night, they sat across each other at his dining table, files scattered between them. Mira's laptop screen flickered with her old project folders. Together, they traced every email, every document timestamp, and they found the anomaly—just two days before the presentation disaster.
A hidden file. A replacement slide.
It had Ibrahim's login.
"I knew it," Mira whispered.
"But we can't confront him without leverage," Noah said. "We need proof strong enough to take to court—or the media."
Mira's hand trembled slightly as she clicked open an old chat conversation between her and Ibrahim. Her stomach dropped.
"I think I have it," she murmured. "He sent me a message a week before the disaster. Something strange..."
The message read:
"Just remember, in this business, it's not what's true. It's what they believe."
---
The next day, they met with Olivia, a friend of Noah's who worked in corporate law. She scanned the data they had and nodded grimly.
"You have a case. But Mira…" She looked between them. "If you go public, it will get ugly. The firm won't let this go easily."
"I've already lost everything," Mira said. "I have nothing left to protect."
Noah reached over and took her hand. "You're not alone anymore."
---
That night, sleep evaded both of them. Mira lay curled on the couch, staring at the ceiling, wondering how her life had spun so violently out of control.
Noah came in, holding two mugs of tea.
"You should be asleep," she said softly.
"So should you."
He sat beside her, close but careful, like always. They sipped tea in silence, the weight of the coming storm pressing down on them.
"I'm scared, Noah," she admitted, her voice cracking. "Not of them. But of failing again."
He turned to her, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "You didn't fail, Mira. They tried to break you, but you're still standing. That's power."
For a moment, nothing else mattered. The world could burn, and she'd still remember the way he looked at her just then—like she was still worthy of being loved.
Her eyes dropped to his lips. "Noah…"
He leaned in, slowly, giving her the chance to stop him.
She didn't.
Their lips met—gentle, hesitant, and burning with everything unspoken. And when they parted, breathless and shaken, Mira knew—
Whatever came next, they'd face it together.