The Room Shifted Around Me

I felt a cruel little thrill when the office manager refused Faisal in front of everyone. Not because I had won. Because his certainty had cracked just enough for me to see daylight underneath. I wanted the others present to remember that exact moment, though I know they will probably remember only who looked confident at the end.

The authorization was cleaner than I expected. For a few seconds, I hated how easily a neat sheet can make arrangements disappear. Then the lease invoices cut through the performance. I keep thinking about how many lives are managed with papers prepared after the person is already trapped inside them.

I keep the questions short because I do not trust long questions. At the ceremony, I will make Aryan and Faisal answer separately, then put the answers beside each other. If I rush them, one of them will perform grief or outrage for me. I need the contradiction without the theatre.

Yesterday’s fear has not left. I have caught lies so confidently that confidence can become another kind of mistake. If I confront them with the wrong assumption, a room full of wedding guests will watch me accuse two men while the real trick remains untouched. I am not afraid of being embarrassed in public. I am afraid of being confidently wrong in private.

When Manav screens the restored footage, part of me wants the rival crew’s camera case to stay visible forever. Proof should have teeth. I also want the couple to remember their own celebration without interruption, which is inconveniently generous of me.