The call came just before lunch.
Not for me.
For Arvan.
I knew because the entire executive floor shifted the moment his assistant rushed past my glass office, face pale, tablet clutched tightly to her chest.
Ten minutes later, my inbox pinged.
Executive Council — Emergency Review
My stomach sank.
I wasn't listed as a required attendee.
That didn't make me feel better.
The conference room felt colder than usual.
Not physically—
socially.
People sat straighter. Spoke less. Avoided eye contact.
Arvan entered last.
The room stilled.
He took his seat without looking at anyone, calm as ever, but I noticed the tension in his shoulders. The kind you only see if you're paying attention.
The head of the council, Mr. Khanna, cleared his throat.
"Arvan," he began, "we need to discuss recent… internal dynamics."
I stiffened.
Arvan didn't react. "Go on."
"There's concern," Khanna continued carefully, "about favoritism. Visibility. Perception."
The words landed exactly where they were meant to.
I lowered my gaze, heat crawling up my neck.
"Your decisions are being questioned," another member added. "Not your competence—your judgment."
Silence followed.
Then Arvan spoke.
"If this is about my work," he said calmly, "I'm happy to address it."
"It's not," Khanna replied. "It's about who you choose to elevate."
My fingers curled into my palms.
I shouldn't be here.
I shouldn't be hearing this.
Arvan leaned back slightly.
"Are you suggesting my decisions are compromised?" he asked.
"No," Khanna said quickly. "We're suggesting optics matter."
Arvan's jaw tightened—just a fraction.
"Optics matter when substance is lacking," he replied evenly.
"That's not the case here."
The room went quiet.
Someone shifted uncomfortably.
"You've made it very clear," Khanna said, "that Mira is under your protection."
My heart slammed.
"I've made it clear," Arvan corrected,
"that harassment and intimidation won't be tolerated."
"That's not the same thing," another voice said. "People are uncomfortable."
Arvan's gaze sharpened.
"Then they should ask themselves why."
That ended the discussion.
Or at least, it should have.
When the meeting adjourned, no one spoke to me.
Not a word.
I left quickly, heart pounding, chest tight with something that felt too close to shame.
Back in my office, I stared at the city beyond the glass, trying to steady my breathing.
I'm the problem.
The thought hit hard.
A knock sounded.
I didn't turn.
"Mira."
Arvan's voice.
I closed my eyes. "You shouldn't be here."
"I know," he said softly.
I turned then—too quickly, too honestly.
"They talked about me," I said. "Because of me."
"They talked about me," he corrected.
"No," I shook my head. "They talked about your judgment. Your reputation. Your position."
"And?"
"And I don't want to be the reason you lose control of your world."
He stepped closer, expression serious but calm.
"My world isn't that fragile."
"Maybe not," I said, voice shaking, "but I am."
That stopped him.
Truly stopped him.
"I didn't ask for protection," I continued.
"I didn't ask to be visible. I didn't ask to matter this much."
He studied my face carefully.
"And do you want me to stop?" he asked quietly.
The question hurt more than the pressure ever had.
I didn't answer immediately.
Because the truth sat heavy on my chest.
"No," I whispered.
"But I'm scared of what it costs."
Arvan exhaled slowly.
"Then listen to me," he said.
"I don't protect people because I'm impulsive. I do it because I'm deliberate."
He met my gaze.
"I chose to stand where I did."
I swallowed. "Even if it costs you?"
"Yes."
The certainty in his voice terrified me.
I looked away.
"I need space," I said. "Not from you—just from the noise."
He nodded without hesitation.
"You'll have it."
He stepped back, giving me room.
"But Mira," he added gently,
"don't turn yourself into the villain just because others are uncomfortable."
My throat tightened.
He turned to leave.
At the door, he paused.
"And one more thing."
"Yes?"
"This isn't the end of anything," he said quietly.
"It's just the first time power has pushed back."
The door closed softly behind him.
I sank into my chair, heart racing.
Because deep down, I knew—
If power was pushing back now…
It meant something real had already begun.