Kabir's steps echoed against the polished corridor floor, precise, deliberate, measured—like a metronome keeping time in a room of chaos. The office hummed with background noise: muted chatter, phones ringing, the faint scent of brewed coffee. Irrelevant.
Except for her.
Anaya.
He had noticed her before, naturally—who could miss someone like her? But today, something subtle in the tilt of her head, the quick glance at the ceiling, the hesitation in her steps, registered. Predictable enough to calculate… yet unpredictable enough to intrigue.
A flash of movement drew his eyes: Rhea. She leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, a smirk that promised mischief. Kabir didn't acknowledge her. She was noise, a distraction—but one worth noting. His focus returned to Anaya.
She moved through the corridor, unaware. He noted every detail: the way her hair caught the light, the faint tension in her shoulders, the almost imperceptible bite of her lip. Amateurish, yes—but oddly entertaining. He didn't smile. He didn't look away. He measured. Calculated. Observed.
Rhea whispered something to Anaya, probably teasing, probably complicating the dynamics. Kabir allowed himself a fraction of a reaction: a flicker of curiosity, a trace of amusement at the predictability of her chaos.
And then Anaya's glance—a brief, startled recognition in her eyes. Not fear. Not exactly. Something else. Intrigue? Hesitation? A challenge she didn't know she was offering?
It was enough to slow his pulse, imperceptibly, just a fraction. He didn't acknowledge her. That would ruin it. Instead, he let the moment stretch—small, precise, deliciously controlled.
He felt the tug in his chest, a tiny, inconvenient spark. Dangerous. Distracting. A challenge he hadn't encountered in a long time. He was used to control. Used to order. Used to people moving predictably through his world.
But she… she wasn't predictable.
Kabir moved past her, every motion flawless, intentional, untouchable. The faint scent of her perfume lingered in the air as he passed, and he caught himself noting it, storing it away like a variable in a formula he wasn't ready to solve yet.
He didn't look back. He didn't need to. He had observed everything he wanted. And that was enough—for now.
Because in this game, patience was as lethal as any strategy. And Kabir always won.