(Kabir's POV)
The office was quiet, but Kabir knew better than to trust silence. It was the perfect canvas for manipulation — invisible currents moving unnoticed, subtle enough to disrupt without leaving overt traces. Veer had returned to the periphery, as if leaning casually against the wall were enough to assert influence.
"Busy morning, Kabir?" Veer's tone was effortless, familiar. But Kabir had learned to recognize the undertone: casual, deliberate, probing.
"I am maintaining operational stability," Kabir replied evenly, eyes on the data in front of him. The subtle irregularities Aryan had planted yesterday had been corrected, the system restored. But Veer's presence always introduced an unpredictability he had to account for.
Veer's gaze shifted toward Anaya, who was quietly reviewing client notes. "You know," Veer began, voice low, conversational, "sometimes I wonder what makes someone like you so… meticulous. So precise. So… contained."
Kabir didn't look up. He felt the current of observation, the testing. Veer's words were casual, but the intention was deliberate.
"Past experiences," Kabir said curtly, not inviting further elaboration. His mind cataloged every subtle expression, every inflection.
Veer's smirk deepened. "Past experiences… yeah. That explains a lot. I mean, it's rare, right? Someone so controlled, yet… you can almost see the walls behind which everything else is carefully hidden. Must have been… formative. Heavy, even."
Kabir's jaw tightened fractionally. Formative. Heavy. Veer was threading through boundaries, exploring the invisible scars that he, Kabir, never allowed anyone to see.
Anaya noticed it too, from the edge of the partition. She didn't speak, but she observed the micro-shifts — the way Kabir's fingers paused, the faint clench of his jaw, the way his eyes flicked briefly away from Veer's gaze. She realized, with a pang of awareness, that the man who handled every chaos alone carried not just responsibility, but history.
Veer continued, unconcerned, the teasing tone perfect: "You ever talk about it? Your past? Or is it all neatly filed, like the rest of your systems?"
Kabir finally looked up, precise, unwavering. "My past is irrelevant to operational efficiency." The words were measured, controlled, but the subtle edge — a warning — was there.
Veer chuckled softly. "Efficiency, yes. But humans… humans aren't just systems, are they? You know that, right?"
Kabir's eyes flicked to Anaya briefly. Her presence anchored him, gave him the awareness that Veer's subtle probing wasn't just about him — it was about testing both of them, their dynamics, and perhaps her trust in the system he upheld so strictly.
"Humans are variables," Kabir said finally, voice calm, precise. "And I account for them accordingly."
Veer's gaze lingered, then shifted, casual again, but his words had left traces, like ripples in still water. Kabir returned to his metrics, fingers poised, mind running contingency after contingency. Yet the ripple remained. Veer had planted it, subtle but undeniable.
Anaya remained at the edge, silently observing. For the first time, Kabir realized that the slow-burn tension wasn't just strategic — it was personal, subtle, and relentless. And the currents that Veer introduced could affect more than numbers; they could touch trust, perception, and the quiet walls Kabir had built around himself.
He didn't speak further. He didn't need to. Veer had left the hint, the current, the challenge. Kabir would calculate, adapt, control. But he knew this: some variables, especially human ones, weren't so easily managed.