Dharini's Pov

It has been a day since I lost my job. The reality still feels strange, like the ground beneath me shifted overnight. For now, I’m surviving on the part-time work I do at a restaurant as a waiter. It isn’t much, but at least it gives me a backup plan and enough savings to get by. The money I earn there is only enough for my survival; dreams like helping an orphanage feel distant for now.

Since yesterday, I’ve been trying to apply to different companies, sending applications everywhere I can. But there hasn’t been a single response. Maybe it just isn’t the season for hiring, or maybe I’m simply unlucky right now. Either way, the silence feels heavy.

While these thoughts circled in my mind, a few new customers walked into the restaurant. I pushed my worries aside, walked to their table, and asked politely, “What would you like to order, sir and ma’am?” After taking their orders, I went to inform the chef.

It was around three in the afternoon — the slow, dragging hour when time feels stretched. Usually, part-time shifts don’t bore me, but today was different. Working a full day felt exhausting, both physically and emotionally. My back ached, and my mind wandered constantly. I was only doing this long shift because one of my coworkers had an important matter to attend to, so I took her place.

The restaurant buzzed softly around me, but inside, I felt tired… not just from the work, but from uncertainty. Still, I kept moving, carrying plates, taking orders, smiling when needed — because right now, survival means showing up, even when your heart feels somewhere else.

As time passed, it was around 5:30 p.m. I was taking a customer’s order when I saw a familiar face entering the restaurant. At first, he scanned the room casually, but then his eyes stopped on me. He gave me a small smile, and I returned it automatically.

He walked to the table where he usually sat and settled down, staring outside the restaurant while I continued taking orders and handing them to the counter.

When it was time, I walked toward his table. As I approached, I noticed there were two people sitting there. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion — I didn’t recognize the other person. Trying to ignore my curiosity, I reached the table and asked politely, “What would you like to order, sir?”

The familiar man ordered his usual — white sauce pasta and a cappuccino. I nodded and then turned to the other person.

The moment I saw him clearly, I froze.

My eyes widened, and my throat went dry. It was none other than that dragon.

He was staring at me as if he could devour me whole. Still, I forced myself to stay calm. Gathering whatever courage I had, I stammered, “A-and your order, sir?”

His gaze moved slowly from the top of my head to my feet… and then back up again. The look on his face felt judging, almost cold. My jaw clenched instinctively. I asked again, this time pressing every word through my teeth.

“Your order, sir?”

Without changing his expression, he simply said, “Same order.”

I turned and walked away quickly.

Why the hell was he here? And if he wanted the same order, why take so long to answer? Then it hit me — he wasn’t thinking about the order at all. He’d been busy judging me.

I could still feel his eyes on me. Maybe there was disgust in his expression… or maybe I was imagining it. I couldn’t tell. But the way he looked me up and down made one thing clear — he had already made up his mind about me.

When the order for that table was ready, I asked another waiter to serve it. I didn’t want to face him again. Whatever he thought about me, I didn’t want to see it reflected in his eyes.

First he fired me, and now he’s here just to judge me again… what a dragon, I muttered under my breath.

Yes — it was none other than my so-called ex-boss, the man who had fired me. But what was he doing here with Aryan? The question kept circling in my mind.

Trying to ignore it, I moved to another table and took two more orders. But even while working, my eyes wandered involuntarily toward their table.

There he was… looking at me.

My chest tightened. I quickly turned away and walked toward the kitchen at the back of the restaurant, hiding myself behind the swing doors so he couldn’t keep staring at me.

Why is he here?

The thought kept circling my mind like a stubborn storm.

It felt awkward. Unfair, even. Out of all places, he had to appear in front of me… in that restaurant.

I was still replaying the moment when I reached my apartment complex. I parked my scooty, walked to the lift, and pressed the button for the eighth floor.

The ride upward felt longer than usual.

As soon as I entered my flat, my phone rang. I glanced at the screen.

Netra calling.

I answered quickly.

“Hello, Netra,” I said, trying to sound normal.

“Where were you?” she asked immediately. “I’ve been calling you since evening!”

I frowned and checked my phone. Multiple missed calls stared back at me.

“Oh… sorry,” I said softly. “My phone was on silent mode. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” she replied. “Cooking dinner for myself. What about you?”

“I just got home,” I said. “But… why were you calling?”

There was a brief pause on the line.

“I wanted to tell you something,” Netra said carefully. “Boss has already appointed your replacement.”

My grip tightened around the phone.

“What?” I asked quietly.

“His name is Aditya,” she continued. “He’s handling your project now… and he’s been made the team leader.”

For a second, I couldn’t process the words.

“What? But he’s new,” I said, my voice rising. “How can he be leading the project? And what about all the work we already did? I structured most of the security framework! The implementation plan, the risk layers—the core ideas were mine!”

The words tumbled out of me in one breath.

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Netra said gently. “Listen first.”

I forced myself to stay silent.

“They’ve made changes,” she explained. “Aditya reviewed your cyber security architecture and reworked it. He replaced the layered defensive model with a simplified centralized system.”

I blinked, confused.

“He changed the architecture?” I whispered.

“Yes,” she said. “He replaced your multi-level authentication flow with a faster access-control model. The encryption protocols were adjusted, and the data-routing structure has been redesigned to make demonstrations easier for the Russian clients.”

My chest tightened.

“That doesn’t sound safe,” I murmured.

“I don’t know,” Netra admitted. “Some parts look efficient, but he’s changed most of what you built. Even the risk simulation modules you designed.”

I leaned against the wall, my legs suddenly weak.

“The ideas… he changed those too?”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “The original concept you proposed was long-term stability. He’s shifted it toward quicker execution and presentation value.”

I closed my eyes.

The project had been mine. Every late night. Every tiny preference setting. Every security layer added like invisible armor.

And now it was being dismantled… piece by piece.

“There’s more,” Netra added quietly. “The final presentation is in five days. Everyone’s under a lot of pressure.”

Five days.

I let out a shaky breath.

“So basically,” I said with a bitter laugh, “they erased me and moved on.”

“Dharini…” Netra’s voice softened. “It’s not that simple.”

Maybe it wasn’t.

But it felt exactly like that.

I stared at the dark room around me, feeling strangely hollow.

Someone else was sitting in my place now.

Running my project.

Changing my work.

And I didn’t know whether I was angry… or just hurt.

After the call ended, silence filled my flat.

I dropped my bag on the sofa and sat down, but my mind refused to rest. Netra’s words kept replaying.

Centralized system. Simplified access control. Faster demonstration.

I opened my laptop almost instinctively.

Even though I didn’t have access to the company servers anymore, fragments of the architecture lived in my memory. I had built it layer by layer, like a fortress designed to survive curiosity and betrayal alike.

I pulled out an old draft diagram I had saved for reference.

If Aditya had replaced the multi-layered system with a centralized model…

My fingers paused over the keyboard.

That meant a single control node.

And a single point of failure.

My heartbeat quickened.

The Russians were known for aggressive penetration testing. If they pushed hard enough during a live demo, that centralized structure could overload or expose internal mapping routes.

I leaned forward, staring at the screen.

No. Worse.

If he had removed the staggered authentication checkpoints for speed, the system might look smooth in presentation—but it would be vulnerable to replay attacks or mirrored intrusion attempts.

My stomach dropped.

This wasn’t just a design preference.

This was dangerous.

I whispered to myself, “He optimized for appearance… not survival.”

I leaned back slowly, suddenly cold.

And the demonstration was in five days.