Vihaan's POV
The air in the boardroom was thick with silent judgments. The kind of cold, intellectual air that left no room for emotion—but Vihaan could feel it pulsing beneath his skin anyway.
Aleena was seated across the table from him, her elbows resting lightly on the glossy wood, her hair pulled back in the precise, deliberate way she always wore it when she wanted to be taken seriously. Her eyes were razor-sharp as they flicked toward the digital projection of the patient file on the screen.
"The treatment was a risk," she said smoothly. "But it saved his life. We acted in the best interest of the patient."
Vihaan clenched his pen between his fingers. Not hard enough to snap it—yet—but enough that the plastic creaked.
"You skipped three steps in protocol."
"Protocol isn't always built for split-second judgment calls," Aleena replied, voice calm. "You know that."
She turned her head slightly to glance at Aryav—who sat at the end of the table, shoulders hunched, thumb anxiously circling the lip of his coffee cup. But Vihaan noticed she didn't meet his eyes. Not really. Like she was watching for his reaction without wanting to acknowledge it.
Vihaan looked between them, a sharp spike rising in his chest. Jealousy, perhaps. Or maybe just protective instinct. Or irritation.
"This isn't about how fast you acted," Vihaan said slowly. "It's about how often you think the rules don't apply to you."
Aleena blinked once, then tilted her head ever so slightly, smiling with that dangerous softness that always made Vihaan feel like she was holding back something crueler.
"You're right," she murmured. "I do break rules. But only when I know I'm the one who has to clean up the mess."
She looked at Aryav again, but this time there was a flicker of something in her face—regret? Guilt? Nostalgia?
Vihaan's chest tightened.
He hated the way she looked at Aryav. Like he was some fragile thing she'd once held and then let slip between her fingers.
He hated that Aryav didn't seem to notice.
"Stop speaking for him," Vihaan said suddenly, sharper than he meant to.
Aleena's brow lifted. "I'm not."
"Aren't you?" Vihaan folded his arms. "Every time you talk, it's like you're trying to justify something not just to us, but to him."
A heavy pause.
Aleena's lips parted slightly, but no words came. For once, she didn't offer a rebuttal. Just looked... off-balance.
Good.
Let her feel off-balance for once.
The others around the table murmured, shifting awkwardly. Aryav looked up slowly, eyes murky and tired.
"We're not here for personal history," he said quietly.
Vihaan's stomach twisted.
Personal history.
That was it, wasn't it?
He wasn't imagining it. The tension between Aleena and Aryav was always there, like the trailing end of a flame that never quite went out. Even after everything. Even after all this time.
And yet it unsettled Vihaan in ways he couldn't explain.
His voice was tight as he stood.
"We'll revisit this once the review panel completes their analysis."
He didn't look at Aleena again.
Didn't let himself glance back at Aryav either.
But as he left the room, every cell in his body hummed with something ugly. Something unnamed.
He told himself it was resentment. Toward Aleena. Toward her recklessness. Toward the way she moved through Aryav's orbit like she still belonged there.
He told himself that was all it was.
He didn't dare dig deeper.
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