Kabir never trusted smiles. Too many were masks—carefully constructed, deliberately misleading. A smile was the easiest way to hide intent.
Which is why Veer annoyed him.
Veer's grin wasn't flashy or rehearsed; it was effortless, the kind that made people lean in without realizing they were drawn. That afternoon in the hallway, Veer laughed at a trivial joke, clapped a colleague on the shoulder, and drew attention like a magnet. Warmth radiated from him, soft and natural, the kind of presence that made everyone feel lighter, safer, included.
Even Anaya noticed. Of course she did. Her eyes softened the moment she saw him, her shoulders relaxing, a faint smile touching her lips. Kabir cataloged it all—the tilt of her head, the ease in her posture, the subtle rhythm of her laugh. He didn't like it.
But he also didn't care. Data first. Emotion later.
Veer's gaze drifted to Kabir. Beneath the easy charm, a flicker of calculation glimmered—too fast for most to notice, but Kabir caught it. The slightest measurement in his eyes, a tiny pause that seemed almost… deliberate.
Interesting.
Veer approached casually. "Hey, Kabir. Didn't expect to see you here," he said, voice smooth, friendly, warm. The kind of greeting that could disarm almost anyone.
Kabir nodded once, detached. No acknowledgment, no challenge. Silence was sharper than words.
But Veer didn't push. He smiled instead, letting the warmth linger. "By the way," he added lightly, "I noticed your report yesterday. Solid work. Really impressive."
Kabir blinked. Compliments weren't Veer's style—they were calculated, yes—but they also felt… real. Too real. Almost uncomfortable in their sincerity.
Later, as the office emptied and shadows stretched across the corridors, Kabir passed Anaya near the stairwell. She was laughing at something Veer said, tilting her head as she listened. Her posture was loose, the kind of ease she never allowed with Kabir.
He slowed, unseen, noting every detail. Not what she said, but how she said it. Her laughter, her comfort, her small smiles—he cataloged them like variables in an equation.
Veer's voice broke the silence softly. "Heading out already, Anaya?" His tone was warm, genuine, easy. The kind of tone that made people trust him without thinking. He glanced at Kabir, just enough for a flicker of acknowledgment, but it was masked with charm.
She smiled at him. Small. Real. Unselfconscious.
Kabir stepped forward then, cutting through the light and shadow. Both their gazes shifted to him. Veer's smile never faltered. If anything, it deepened just slightly, the kind of smile that could feel like an embrace or a challenge, depending on who looked.
"Anaya," Kabir said, voice low, controlled. "You're late. Don't make it a habit."
Confusion crossed her face. "I was just—"
"Talking," Kabir interjected flatly. His gaze never met Veer's, but the weight of his tone hung in the air.
Veer chuckled softly, easy, friendly, disarming. "Relax, Kabir. We were just finishing." A slight flick of his fingers toward a stack of papers, casual, meaningless—or was it? Kabir noted it, mentally filing it away.
Kabir didn't reply. He held Anaya's gaze a beat too long, then turned, footsteps measured, back rigid. Enough had been observed.
Behind him, laughter floated—the warmth, the charm, the effortless presence. Veer's presence left a mark, invisible to most but palpable to Kabir.
Inside, Kabir's mind worked faster, calculating, analyzing. Veer wasn't just background noise anymore. He was a variable. A rival.
And Kabir never ignored rivals.