By the end of the day, I stopped pretending nothing was happening.
The line between me and Arvan wasn't just something I felt anymore.
Everyone saw it.
I noticed it during the afternoon review when one of the senior designers—Vikram—questioned my input a little too sharply.
"Are we sure this direction is… necessary?" he asked, glancing at me before turning to Arvan.
"It's a bit unconventional."
My stomach tightened.
Before I could respond, Arvan spoke.
"Explain why," he said calmly.
Vikram hesitated. "Well… it's just that Mira is new. Maybe we should—"
"—listen to the idea, not the tenure," Arvan interrupted.
The room went quiet.
I felt heat rush to my face.
Vikram cleared his throat. "Of course. My apologies."
Arvan didn't look at me.
But I felt it anyway—his support, steady and unyielding.
After the meeting, I avoided the executive floor and went straight to the break room.
I needed space.
I needed air.
I needed to stop feeling like my heart was sprinting every time he spoke my name.
I was staring at the coffee machine when a voice broke through my thoughts.
"You know this won't end well."
I turned.
Vikram stood near the doorway, arms crossed.
"I'm not sure what you mean," I said carefully.
He tilted his head. "You do."
My pulse quickened. "If you have a problem with my work, you can say it openly."
"This isn't about your work," he replied.
"It's about how visible you are."
I frowned. "Visible?"
"He doesn't defend people like that," Vikram said quietly.
"He never has."
I swallowed.
"That doesn't mean anything," I said.
Vikram studied me for a long moment.
"Just be careful," he said.
"Standing that close to power always has consequences."
He left before I could respond.
My hands trembled as I poured coffee I no longer wanted.
By the time I returned to my desk, Arvan was waiting outside my office.
My heart stumbled.
"Walk with me," he said.
We moved down the hallway in silence, stopping near the windows overlooking the city.
"Did Vikram say something to you?" he asked.
I hesitated. Then nodded.
"What did he say?" His voice was calm—but edged.
"That being visible has consequences," I replied.
Arvan exhaled slowly.
"He's not wrong."
That surprised me.
"You know people are talking," I said.
"Yes."
"And you're okay with that?"
He turned to face me fully.
"I don't shape my decisions around gossip."
I studied his expression—steady, honest, unguarded.
"Why?" I asked.
He held my gaze.
"Because the moment I start doing that," he said,
"I stop being myself."
My chest tightened.
He stepped a little closer—not invading, not overwhelming.
Just… present.
"I don't regret protecting you," he added.
"But I won't force you to stand in the middle of it."
I inhaled shakily. "And if I choose to stay?"
His eyes darkened—not with possession, but something deeper.
"Then I'll make sure no one crosses the line."
I swallowed.
"What if we are the line?" I asked softly.
Silence fell.
Heavy. Honest.
Arvan didn't answer right away.
Then he said, quietly,
"Then we'll decide together what that means."
My heart skipped.
He took a step back, giving me space.
"Go home," he said gently.
"You've had enough for today."
I nodded.
As I walked away, one thought followed me relentlessly—
This wasn't just about work anymore.
And pretending otherwise was becoming impossible.