The meeting room buzzed with that late-afternoon fatigue — coffee cups half-empty, patience running on fumes. Kabir stood near the whiteboard, precise as ever, pointing out the final projections.
"The numbers show a 12% drop in engagement. We'll need to realign strategy before—"
"Or maybe," Veer cut in, voice smooth as glass, "we're overcomplicating it."
Heads turned. His tone wasn't confrontational — it was friendly, confident, almost teasing. The kind that made people listen.
Kabir paused. "Explain."
Veer smiled. "You're looking at it from a systems angle — which makes sense, that's your strength. But maybe we need to see it from the people's side. Engagement isn't a metric; it's emotion. Maybe it's not the product that's off… maybe it's how we're connecting."
Laughter rippled around the table, the kind that wasn't cruel, but inclusive. Someone murmured, "That's actually a good point."
Kabir's fingers tightened around the marker. "Emotion doesn't fix data," he said evenly.
Veer leaned back, eyes warm. "True, but data means nothing if people don't care. That's where you come in, Kabir — you build the structure. I'll just make sure people actually see it."
The room hummed with quiet approval. It sounded like teamwork. It wasn't.
Anaya smiled faintly, almost apologetically, like she wanted to side with Kabir but couldn't. Veer noticed. Of course he did.
Kabir finished his presentation, but the attention had shifted. Every comment, every glance, circled back to Veer. His jokes landed perfectly, his tone softened every critique. The meeting ended with laughter — not for Kabir's clarity, but Veer's charm.
As people filed out, Veer clapped Kabir lightly on the shoulder. "Great work, man. You make the hard stuff sound easy."
Kabir's jaw flexed. "That's the point."
"Exactly." Veer's grin didn't falter. "You keep things grounded; I just… make them relatable."
Kabir said nothing. But when Veer left, the echo of his laughter lingered longer than it should have.
In the now-empty room, Kabir replayed every moment — tone, timing, phrasing. Veer hadn't contradicted him. He'd redirected him. Shifted the focus without ever drawing blood.
It wasn't attack. It was precision.
Kabir stared at the whiteboard, the fading words under fluorescent light. For the first time, the neat lines felt slightly… off.
Veer had smiled through the whole thing — friendly, harmless, perfect.And somehow, Kabir was the one who looked difficult.