(Kabir's POV)
The office hummed with a rhythm Kabir would normally call familiar — the quiet cadence of keys, distant phone rings, the low murmur of colleagues — yet today it felt off. Disjointed. Unstable.
He had known Aryan Mehra's interference was inevitable. The warning had been clear. But seeing the evidence of it — emails redirected, instructions quietly overridden, junior leads nudged toward mistakes — was different. Precise chaos had a way of undermining control, and Kabir valued control above almost everything.
Anaya Kapoor was on the phone again. Her voice, though steady, carried the tightness of someone being pushed against the edge.
"I need to see you," she said. "Now."
Kabir's pulse remained measured. He didn't react emotionally; he simply calculated. Every possibility. Every outcome. Every vector Aryan could exploit.
By the time she stepped into his office, her posture was rigid, composure carefully maintained. But he could see the tension in the micro-shift of her shoulders, the subtle drag in her exhale.
"Anaya," he said, voice precise, neutral. "What's happening?"
She explained, carefully, deliberately — Aryan's manipulations, the pressure on her to override his decisions, the way the junior leads were being subtly corralled into compliance.
Kabir listened, eyes narrowing fractionally, computing both the human and procedural variables. Every interference, every subtle pressure point Aryan was exploiting, fell into a pattern Kabir had seen before — only this time, the human variable was active, unpredictable.
"You do not confront him alone," Kabir said finally, deliberate and measured. "If this escalates, we calculate. We intercept. We neutralize the leverage. Not emotionally. Strategically."
Anaya's eyes flicked up. "I can't keep reacting. I need to act."
A micro-adjustment of his stance — lean forward slightly, hands resting lightly on the desk — a silent calibration. "Then we act correctly. Together. One variable at a time. You will not be left exposed."
Veer Malhotra appeared at the doorway, casual, effortless, but the subtle undercurrent of his presence was unmistakable. Kabir's mind registered the shift immediately: influence, distraction, pressure — Veer didn't need to interfere overtly; he merely altered the atmosphere. Kabir ignored him. Focused. Contained.
When the call with Aryan Mehra went live, Kabir positioned himself behind Anaya, a silent anchor. Aryan's tone was calm, measured — probing for a reaction. Kabir anticipated it, calculating both her responses and the possible angles of attack.
"Calculations are only effective when guided by data and control," Kabir said smoothly, voice low but audible, cutting through the tension. "Not manipulation."
Aryan's expression flickered for the briefest fraction of a second. Kabir caught it immediately — a misstep, a crack. He didn't exploit it with words, only with presence. The room, the reflection, the subtle gravity of authority he projected — all became a buffer for Anaya, stabilizing her actions under pressure.
By the time the call ended, Aryan withdrew — no triumph, no concession, only a shift in the board of influence. Kabir remained still for a heartbeat after, observing Anaya's subtle exhale, her fleeting relaxation.
She didn't need reassurance. She didn't need affection. She needed presence. And Kabir Mehra had ensured that she had it — quietly, precisely, with every ounce of his control.
The slow-burn tension between them didn't ease. It sharpened, concentrated into a current neither of them could yet name — a force of trust measured, tactical, and undeniably potent.