Nothing was announced.
No statements.
No declarations.
And yet—everyone knew.
It was in the small things.
The way Arvan waited a second longer before meetings started.
The way his gaze found me first when decisions mattered.
The way people stopped asking why I was there and started asking how.
Visibility had changed.
So had I.
That morning, an external review team arrived—consultants hired by a major client. They were polite, efficient, and clearly there to assess more than performance.
They wanted reassurance.
They wanted control.
And they wanted to see who actually held influence.
I stood near the screen as they asked questions that circled closer and closer to the same point.
"Who authorized the rollback during the breach?" one of them asked.
"I did," Arvan replied calmly.
"And the implementation strategy afterward?"
I stepped forward before anyone could deflect.
"I designed it," I said. "With his approval."
The consultant looked at me. "You?"
"Yes," I replied evenly. "And I'll walk you through the logic."
I didn't look at Arvan.
I didn't need to.
I spoke clearly. Confidently. Without apology.
When I finished, the room was quiet—not skeptical.
Considering.
"That was thorough," the consultant said finally. "Thank you."
The meeting moved on.
Afterward, as people filtered out, one of the consultants paused beside me.
"You're steady under pressure," he said. "Not everyone is."
"Practice," I replied.
He smiled. "It shows."
I returned to my office with a lightness I hadn't felt before.
I hadn't needed protection.
I'd needed space to stand.
Arvan was waiting outside my door.
"You didn't look at me once," he said.
"I didn't need to," I replied.
His expression shifted—pride, relief, something deeper.
"That's exactly how it should be," he said.
We walked down the hallway together, unhurried.
"I won't always be able to shield you," he said quietly.
"I don't want that," I replied. "I want partnership."
He stopped.
Turned to face me fully.
"That's what I'm offering," he said. "Not shelter. Not control."
I met his gaze.
"Then this works," I said.
A pause.
Then a small, genuine smile.
Later that evening, as the office emptied, I caught my reflection in the glass—calm, grounded, unafraid.
I wasn't standing behind him.
I was standing beside him.
And for the first time since this all began, I knew exactly where I chose to be.
Right here.