The calm did not survive the night.
By morning, the firm felt different—tighter, sharper, as if the walls had leaned in while everyone slept. Mahi sensed it the moment she stepped out of the elevator. Conversations cut off when she passed. Phones rang longer than usual. Someone whispered her name and quickly looked away.
She didn't slow.
Inside her cabin, a red folder lay on her desk.
Unmarked.
That alone made her uneasy.
She opened it.
The file was thick, heavy with implications. Newspaper clippings were stapled to the first page—headlines screaming about corporate fraud, political funding, shell companies. As she turned the pages, her expression hardened.
This wasn't an ordinary case.
This was the kind that rewrote futures.
A familiar surname appeared—not hers, but dangerously close to her personal and professional history. Close enough for the media to draw lines that didn't exist.
Her jaw tightened.
A knock came—firm, urgent.
Roohi entered without waiting for permission, her usual composure slightly fractured.
"It came in late last night," Roohi said, placing another document on the desk. "They want us to take the case."
Mahi didn't look up. "They need us."
"Yes," Roohi agreed. "And if we do, everything we do will be watched."
Mahi closed the folder slowly. "Why wasn't I informed immediately?"
"Because it came through political intermediaries," Roohi replied carefully. "And because your name—"
"—is too close to this," Mahi finished.
Roohi nodded. "Exactly."
A beat passed.
"Where's Nikhil?" Mahi asked.
Roohi hesitated. Not enough to hide it—but enough to be noticed.
"Conference Room Three," she said. "With the opposing counsel."
Mahi's eyes lifted. "Why?"
"To read them. To see how they're planning to move."
"Without telling me?"
"I didn't want your judgment questioned before we had clarity," Roohi said. "This case can't afford emotional interference."
Mahi's fingers curled against the edge of the desk. "You should have trusted me."
Roohi exhaled. "I was trying to protect you."
"That's not your call," Mahi said quietly.
She stood and walked out.
Conference Room Three had glass walls.
Mahi stopped a few steps away, unseen.
Inside, Nikhil sat across from the opposing counsel. Files lay open. Notes had been exchanged. The man smiled too easily; Nikhil's expression was neutral, controlled.
They looked… aligned.
Mahi felt something tighten—not jealousy, but something colder. Professional. Defensive.
She turned away before either of them noticed her.
Back in her cabin, she closed the door and reopened the red folder.
This time, she read it with brutal clarity.
Every clause. Every loophole. Every risk that could circle back to her.
She made a decision.
And once Mahi decided, she didn't hesitate.
Nikhil returned to his desk an hour later, unsettled.
The meeting had been careful, strategic. He hadn't revealed anything—but appearances mattered. He checked his phone.
No message from Mahi.
That silence bothered him more than scrutiny ever had.
He went to her cabin.
Knocked.
No response.
He knocked again.
"Come in," she said, distant.
She didn't look up when he entered.
"The meeting's done," he said. "They were probing. I didn't give them anything."
"I know," she replied.
He frowned. "You know?"
"Yes."
The lack of emotion in her voice unsettled him.
"You didn't think to inform me before sending me in?" he asked.
She finally looked up. Her expression was composed—too composed.
"I didn't," she said. "And I stand by it."
"Mahi—"
"This case requires distance," she continued calmly. "Professional distance."
"And personal?" he asked quietly.
She didn't answer that.
"For this case," she said instead, standing now, "you'll coordinate through Roohi. Not me."
The words hit harder than she intended.
"You're cutting me out," he said.
"I'm protecting the case," she replied.
"And what about trust?" he asked.
She hesitated.
That pause—small, restrained—was enough.
"So this is it," he said, a tight smile forming. "One difficult case, and suddenly I'm a liability."
"That's not what I said."
"It's what you meant," he replied.
Silence fell between them—thick, strained, no longer gentle.
"I thought," he continued, voice lower now, "that yesterday meant something."
Her jaw tightened.
"It did," she said. "Which is why I can't afford it today."
He looked at her for a long moment, searching for something—reassurance, maybe.
He didn't find it.
"Understood," he said finally. "I'll report to Roohi."
He turned and left without another word.
The door closed softly behind him.
Mahi sat back down slowly, her chest tight, her expression unchanged.
Outside her cabin, Nikhil stopped walking, just for a second.
The silence that had once felt safe now felt like a decision.
And neither of them knew yet how expensive it would be.