(Kabir's POV)
The day was chaos wrapped in politeness. Deadlines closing in, clients calling in half-hour intervals, and half the team pretending productivity was a personality trait. Kabir didn't believe in panic. He believed in systems. But even systems strain when people don't follow them.
And today, they didn't.
One wrong line in the project proposal—one single misaligned data set—and the entire presentation risked imploding. Anaya had caught the discrepancy too late, and Kabir had spent the last hour trying to patch the numbers before the client call.
Except the sheet wouldn't compile.
His hand hovered over the keyboard, steady but cold. Pressure never broke him, but inefficiency irritated him like static. And when he heard that calm, too-composed voice behind him, he already knew who it was.
"Need a hand?"
Veer.
Kabir didn't look up. "No."
"Good," Veer said, walking closer anyway. "Because I'm helping you either way."
Kabir's fingers paused mid-keystroke. He hated interference. But before he could refuse again, Veer leaned over, scanning the screen once. "You're missing a line reference. The secondary sheet didn't sync. Wait—" He reached across, fingers moving quick, confident, flawless. The formula updated. Numbers fell into place.
Veer stepped back, easy grin intact. "There. You're good."
Kabir stared at the screen, then at him. "You've been monitoring the dataset?"
Veer shrugged. "Habit. I like knowing when the ship's leaking before the captain notices."
It was arrogant. And yet — helpful. Efficient. Annoyingly precise.
Kabir closed the file, recalculated his response. "You shouldn't interfere with my work."
Veer's smirk softened. "Then stop making me want to."
That one sentence lingered. Too casual. Too knowing.
Kabir studied him for a moment longer — the posture too relaxed, the tone too effortless — before finally saying, "You did well."
Veer's smile dimmed just slightly, replaced by something sharper beneath. "Coming from you, that's practically an award."
Kabir ignored the comment, turning back to his screen. "Don't make a habit of it."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Veer said, already walking away.
But as Kabir resumed typing, he caught his own reflection in the monitor — and the faint trace of something unfamiliar. Gratitude.
It was unnecessary. But it was there.
And for the first time, Kabir wondered if maybe he'd misjudged Veer — just a little.