(Kabir's POV)
The office was quiet — sterile, predictable, exactly how Kabir liked it. Temperature controlled. Lighting precise. Every surface accounted for.
Until a knock disrupted the equilibrium.
It wasn't Veer's casual rhythm, nor Anaya's polite hesitation. This knock was deliberate, measured, almost surgical. Kabir didn't flinch, but his mind immediately shifted into calculation mode.
The door opened slowly.
Aryan stepped in.
The name had floated in whispers across the company — a shadow behind the data, a ghost in Kabir's otherwise orderly world. And now he had form. Real, deliberate, dangerous.
"Mr. Mehra," Aryan said, closing the door behind him. "We have a problem."
Kabir's expression remained controlled. "We don't. I don't entertain unsolicited problems."
"Consider it a courtesy," Aryan replied, stepping forward. "Your rollout data has been compromised. And you're surrounded by people you think you understand — but don't."
Kabir's eyes narrowed, scanning him. "Bold words from a man who isn't on any official directory."
Aryan smiled faintly, almost a shadow of humor. "Some of us function better off the grid."
The silence stretched, controlled and charged. Kabir's instincts told him this wasn't a casual warning.
"What do you want?" he asked finally.
Aryan's gaze flicked toward the glass wall, reflecting Anaya Kapoor's desk in the distance. "To make sure certain people don't end up as collateral damage."
Kabir's pen paused mid-note. "Define 'certain people.'"
"Anaya."
The word struck precisely, like a line of code executed without warning. Kabir's grip on the pen tightened slightly, though his face remained unreadable.
"You've been speaking to her," he said quietly.
"She came looking for answers," Aryan said evenly. "I gave her one."
Kabir's eyes locked on him. "And what was that?"
Aryan leaned slightly closer, voice low, deliberate. "That you will only hurt her."
The words hung in the air — not emotional, but predictive. Presumptuous. Dangerous.
Kabir didn't flinch, but the balance of the room shifted. Silence stretched, not the safe kind, but the kind that carries an unspoken threat.
"Be careful where you make assumptions," Kabir said finally. "I don't harm what I don't need."
Aryan tilted his head, a trace of pity crossing his features. "You think harm requires intent. It doesn't."
For a moment, Kabir thought he glimpsed memory in Aryan's eyes — not accusation, but something colder. Then it was gone.
Aryan turned toward the door. "You built this place to function like a system. But systems don't save people, Kabir. They erase them."
The door closed softly behind him.
Kabir sat still, listening to the hum of the fluorescent lights. His reflection stared back from the black glass of the monitor — jaw set, eyes steady, but a sliver of uncertainty had arrived uninvited.
Aryan's words replayed in his mind:
You will only hurt her.
It was a warning. Or a challenge. Either way, it was now part of the equation.