I should've known the calm wouldn't last.
It never does.
The confrontation came from someone I didn't expect—and at the worst possible time.
I was reviewing mockups in the shared workspace when Vikram stopped by my desk again.
Too casually.
"Busy?" he asked, eyes flicking to my screen.
"Always," I replied without looking up.
He leaned against the desk. "You've moved up fast."
I finally met his gaze. "I work hard."
"I'm sure you do," he said lightly. "But people are starting to wonder if that's the only reason."
My chest tightened.
"If you have something to say, say it clearly," I replied.
He smiled. Not kindly.
"You should be careful," he said. "Standing this close to the CEO invites assumptions."
"Assumptions say more about the people making them," I shot back.
Before he could respond, a shadow fell across us.
Arvan.
He hadn't said a word yet—but his presence shifted the air instantly.
"Is there a problem?" he asked calmly.
Vikram straightened. "No, sir. Just a discussion."
Arvan's gaze moved from him to me.
"Are you being interrupted?" he asked.
"Yes," I said honestly.
That was all it took.
"Then we're done here," Arvan said coolly.
Vikram hesitated. "Sir—"
"You can leave," Arvan repeated.
No raised voice.
No anger.
Just authority.
Vikram walked away.
I exhaled slowly, heart racing.
"You didn't need to do that," I said.
"Yes," Arvan replied quietly, "I did."
I turned toward him. "People already think—"
"I don't care what they think," he said, cutting me off.
Then, softer, "I care what you feel."
That stopped me.
"I don't want you dealing with this because of me," I admitted.
His jaw tightened—not with anger, but something closer to frustration.
"I don't like anyone questioning your place here," he said.
"And I don't like watching someone look at you like you're something they can measure."
My pulse spiked.
"That sounds like jealousy," I said carefully.
He didn't deny it.
"It is."
The word hung between us.
Raw. Honest. Unfiltered.
We stood there too close again.
Too aware.
Too restrained.
"This is why we said boundaries," I whispered.
"Yes," he agreed.
"And this is why they're hard to keep."
Silence pressed in.
Then his phone buzzed.
He glanced at it, jaw tightening further.
"My mother," he said flatly.
My stomach dropped.
"She wants to meet you."
The words hit harder than anything else that day.
"What?" I whispered.
"She's noticed," he said. "Which means this isn't just office pressure anymore."
I swallowed. "You don't have to do that."
"I won't force you," he replied immediately.
"But understand this—"
He met my gaze, expression steady.
"If you stay, this gets real."
My heart pounded painfully.
"And if I walk away?" I asked.
He answered without hesitation.
"I'll let you."
That scared me more than his jealousy ever could.
Because it meant he wasn't holding me here.
I was choosing it.
I inhaled slowly.
"I'm not walking away," I said.
Something in his eyes shifted.
Not triumph.
Relief.
"Then," he said quietly, "we'll face the consequences together."
And in that moment, I knew—
Restraint wasn't about denial anymore.
It was about control.
And control was slipping.