(Kabir's POV)
The office was deceptively calm. To anyone else, it might have appeared that the storm from Aryan's interference had passed. But Kabir knew better. Chaos rarely announced itself with fanfare. It seeped in quietly, through gaps, overlooked edges, and unguarded variables.
Veer had returned today, subtle as ever, lingering at the periphery. Kabir observed him without moving. Veer's posture, the faint curl of his smile, the casual way he leaned against the partition — all signals. All potential disruptions. Kabir's mind catalogged every micro-expression, every possible outcome.
"Morning, Kabir," Veer said lightly, voice smooth. "Busy morning?"
Kabir's fingers hovered over the keyboard, calculated pause. "Observing patterns. Ensuring stability."
Veer's eyes flicked to Anaya, who had just walked past, her expression calm, though Kabir could see the traces of tension she carried from yesterday's confrontations with Aryan. Veer's smile deepened ever so slightly. He was testing something — but Kabir didn't flinch.
Minutes later, an unexpected discrepancy appeared in the rollout data — subtle, almost imperceptible, but enough to trigger minor alarms in the system. Kabir's instincts reacted instantly. This wasn't Aryan. The pattern was different. Intentional, but… clever.
Veer, leaning casually against the wall, offered, "Need a hand?" His tone was disarmingly casual, but Kabir recognized the precise timing — a calculated insertion into the system he had been monitoring.
"Not necessary," Kabir replied evenly, eyes scanning the anomaly. Every variable, every influence, was under control. "I am aware of the source."
Veer raised an eyebrow, that faint glint of amusement in his gaze. "Smart man. But even smart men sometimes miss currents they can't see from the surface."
Kabir's jaw tightened imperceptibly. Veer's currents were invisible to most, yet Kabir's precision allowed him to detect them — subtle shifts in team behavior, minor inconsistencies, whispers of doubt. Veer was testing both him and Anaya, nudging reactions without ever touching the surface directly.
Anaya approached, sensing his tension without words. "Kabir… is it him?"
"Yes," Kabir said, voice low, precise. "But he's predictable if you read the patterns." He paused, letting the weight of his observation settle between them. "Do not react without awareness. That is the key."
She nodded. Her presence was steady — a human variable Kabir relied on, even if he would never admit it aloud. Together, they began isolating the discrepancy, following Veer's subtle current backward without allowing it to dictate their path.
Hours passed in calculated silence. Kabir noticed, as always, that Anaya observed more than she spoke. Her eyes caught details he would have missed, her intuition supplementing his strategy. And yet, even with her presence, the solitude he bore remained — the invisible weight of controlling not only the system, but the chaos Veer introduced.
By evening, the anomaly was resolved. Stability returned, but Kabir didn't relax. The currents had shifted, and Veer had tested them both — not aggressively, but enough to leave a subtle mark.
He glanced at Anaya, who had leaned slightly against the partition, silent, watching him. For a fraction of a second, he allowed himself a recognition: she saw the isolation he carried — the weight of handling every disruption alone, the calculated solitude he chose.
No words passed between them. None were needed. The slow burn, the awareness, the tension — it had evolved into something tangible, quiet, and entirely dependent on trust and observation.
Veer's laugh echoed faintly in the hallway, soft, teasing, invisible yet unmistakable. Kabir didn't react. He calculated, adjusted, and prepared for the next move — because in this game, the system was never truly secure. And neither was anyone.