(Kabir's POV)
Veer leaned casually against the doorway, one hand tucked into his pocket, eyes scanning the office as if the room itself held a secret he alone could interpret. His presence was deliberate, almost theatrical — not imposing, but unavoidable. "Your brother doesn't stop," he said, voice smooth, low, carrying that easy confidence that somehow cut deeper than any confrontation. "Always meddling. Why let him?"
Kabir didn't respond immediately. Words were unnecessary; the implication hung in the air, precise and sharp. Aryan's interference was a constant, a shadow at the periphery of every decision Kabir made. But Veer's comment teased at something more — an uncomfortable truth Kabir hadn't fully confronted. Aryan was unpredictable, a variable outside the parameters Kabir's mind could map entirely.
He catalogued Veer's posture, the tilt of his head, the faint curve of his smirk. It was casual on the surface, but every microgesture carried purpose. The timing of Veer's words — during a lull in the office buzz, with just enough quiet for the insinuation to sink — was calculated. Subtle. Controlled. Psychological.
"Watch closely," Veer added, voice lowering, almost conspiratorial. "He's a variable numbers can't account for." The words were simple, yet they planted an image: Aryan as an uncontrollable factor, a disruptor in Kabir's carefully maintained system. Even as Kabir continued his work, the mental equation shifted, accommodating this new dimension.
He returned to his screen, fingers poised over the keyboard, but his mind traced back to recent interactions: Aryan's offhand comments in meetings, the minor contradictions he had seeded in reports, the way he lingered near Anaya during group discussions. Every act, seemingly innocuous to the untrained eye, had consequences. Kabir analyzed them, each a fractal of potential sabotage, each demanding attention.
Veer's presence lingered, more felt than seen. Kabir noted the precision in his approach — never confrontational, never overt, yet designed to provoke reconsideration. He cataloged the observation, the tone, the timing. He didn't trust Veer, not fully; but the seed of doubt, carefully planted, had already taken root. Kabir's calculations now included an additional layer: perception. Manipulation. Influence beyond mere numbers.
Trust, he realized, was no longer a straightforward metric. It was a dynamic, fluid equation, shaped not just by facts or loyalty, but by subtle signals, by the silent interplay of those around him. Veer had reminded him — intentionally or not — that Aryan's unpredictability could unravel everything if left unchecked.
Kabir's chest remained still, his expression neutral, but a quiet tension had entered the system. Aryan's interference wasn't a simple problem to be solved; it was an ongoing challenge, one that tested boundaries Kabir had thought immutable. He would adapt. He always did. Yet even as he recalculated contingencies, a small, almost imperceptible acknowledgment lingered: some variables resisted complete control. Some forces existed precisely to remind him of that fact.
Veer's smirk faded as he moved away, blending back into the rhythm of the office. Kabir's eyes returned to his screen, mind already tracing potential scenarios, reworking strategies, anticipating the next ripple in the web. Aryan was a shadow, yes — but every shadow, he reminded himself, could be measured. Every shadow… could be manipulated.