The shift was subtle.
So subtle I almost missed it.
People started greeting me differently.
Not warmly.
Not rudely.
Cautiously.
Like they weren't sure where I stood anymore.
I noticed it during lunch.
A group of coworkers who usually chatted loudly fell silent the moment I approached. Someone else quickly changed topics.
I sat alone, pretending not to care.
You're safe here.
Arvan's words echoed in my head, but safety suddenly felt like visibility—and visibility felt dangerous.
Back at my desk, I worked quietly, focused, determined not to give anyone a reason to talk.
That was when a message popped up on my screen.
Unknown:
You shouldn't get comfortable so fast.
My stomach dropped.
I stared at the message, pulse spiking.
Before I could respond, another came through.
Unknown:
He doesn't keep people close for long.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard.
Who was this?
Why now?
I closed the chat without replying, heart pounding.
A shadow fell across my desk.
Arvan.
He was already reading my expression.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Nothing," I said too quickly.
He didn't accept that.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"Show me."
I hesitated.
Then turned the screen toward him.
The moment he read the messages, something in his face changed.
Not anger.
Cold precision.
He straightened slowly.
"Did you reply?"
"No."
"Good."
His jaw tightened.
"Who would send this?" I asked.
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he looked around the office—calm, sharp, assessing.
"Someone testing boundaries," he said finally.
"That makes me uncomfortable."
"It should," he replied. "And it ends today."
My heart skipped. "What do you mean?"
He typed something quickly on his phone.
"Come with me."
"What? Where?"
"Now."
I followed him into the executive hallway, pulse racing.
He didn't touch me.
Didn't rush.
But the energy around him was unmistakable.
Protective.
Controlled.
Dangerous.
He stopped near the central work area where several senior employees were present.
Then—without raising his voice—he spoke.
"Any communication to or about Mira goes through me."
The room froze.
Every head turned.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
"If anyone has a problem with that," he continued calmly,
"you're welcome to discuss it directly with me."
Silence.
Heavy. Absolute.
No one spoke.
No one moved.
He turned back to me.
"You're done for today," he said quietly. "Go home."
"But I still have—"
"I'll handle it."
I swallowed, heart racing.
As I grabbed my bag, whispers started the second I walked away.
Outside, the cool air hit my face.
My phone buzzed again.
Arvan:
You don't need to reply to anyone who makes you uncomfortable.
Not here.
I stared at the screen.
Then typed back before fear could stop me.
Me:
You didn't have to do that.
The reply came instantly.
Arvan:
Yes. I did.
My chest tightened.
Because I wasn't sure what scared me more—
That people were noticing.
Or that Arvan Raichand had just made it very clear…
I was under his protection.