Aara made a decision the moment she woke up that morning.
She would keep her distance from Kabir Rathod.
Not because she hated him. Not because she feared him entirely. But because every conversation with him left her more unsettled than before—like she was standing at the edge of something too deep, too dark, to measure.
At the office, she buried herself in work. She arrived early, avoided looking toward Kabir's cabin, and kept her interactions limited to what was absolutely necessary. When her phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number, she ignored it. When she felt eyes on her, she pretended not to notice.
But Kabir noticed everything.
From his glass cabin, Kabir watched Aara move through the office with deliberate care. She didn't look at him once. Not even accidentally. She spoke politely to others, smiled when required—but none of that warmth reached him.
Distance.
It irritated him more than he expected.
He told himself it shouldn't matter. That she was just an intern. That he had dealt with far worse distractions. Yet his jaw tightened every time someone else stood too close to her, every time she laughed softly at someone else's words.
Rahul noticed first.
"She's avoiding you," he said casually during lunch, as if discussing the weather.
Kabir shot him a sharp look. "No, she isn't."
Rahul raised an eyebrow. "You're wrong. And you don't like being wrong."
Kabir said nothing. Because he did like control—and this was slipping from his hands.
---
During the afternoon, the office atmosphere shifted.
Aara felt it before she understood it. Conversations quieted when she passed. Two girls from another department whispered and glanced her way. One of them brushed past her intentionally, spilling coffee on her file.
"I'm sorry," the girl said, not sounding sorry at all.
Aara forced a smile and cleaned the papers silently.
She didn't see Kabir standing at the end of the corridor.
But he saw everything.
The next five minutes were enough to remind the office why Kabir Rathod was feared.
The girl was called into HR. A quiet warning followed—cold, precise, devastating. By evening, her transfer request was approved.
Kabir didn't raise his voice. He never needed to.
When Aara found out, unease crept into her chest.
She walked straight to Kabir's cabin, her heart pounding.
"You did this," she said, standing in front of his desk.
Kabir didn't deny it. "She crossed a line."
"That wasn't your line to draw," Aara replied, her voice shaking—not with fear, but anger.
Kabir stood. Slowly. "Anyone who tries to hurt you makes it my line."
Her breath caught. "I never asked for your protection."
His eyes darkened. "You didn't have to."
Silence.
Dangerous, charged silence.
"I can take care of myself," Aara said quietly.
Kabir looked at her like she had challenged something sacred. "No," he said. "You think you can. That's different."
That was the moment Aara realized something terrifying.
Kabir Rathod didn't see protection as a choice.
He saw it as ownership.
She stepped back.
"Please don't do this again," she said. "Whatever this is… it scares me."
And for the first time, Kabir looked shaken.
---
That night, Rahul confronted him.
"You crossed a boundary today," Rahul said.
Kabir poured a drink, silent.
"She asked you not to interfere," Rahul continued. "And you did it anyway."
Kabir's voice was calm. "I removed a threat."
"She wasn't a threat," Rahul snapped. "She was jealousy."
Kabir turned sharply. "Don't psychoanalyze me."
Rahul sighed. "You're turning affection into control. That's not love."
Kabir's grip tightened around the glass. "Don't use that word."
Because love made men weak.
And Kabir Rathod could not afford weakness.
---
Elsewhere, Aara sat with Kavya, recounting everything.
"He scares me," Aara admitted. "Not because he's cruel. But because he decides things without asking."
Kavya took her hand. "Then you need boundaries. Strong ones."
Aara nodded. "I'll keep my distance."
But somewhere deep inside, she knew distance alone wouldn't save her.
---
Late at night, Kabir stood alone on his balcony, city lights reflecting in his eyes.
He replayed her words.
It scares me.
For the first time, Kabir Rathod felt something unfamiliar.
Fear.
Not of enemies.
Not of blood.
But of becoming the monster she would one day run from.
And yet, even with that fear tightening his chest, one truth remained unchanged:
If the world tried to take Aara from him—
It would burn first.