Kabir looked at Rohan, his lead developer. Rohan had dark circles under his eyes. He had missed his sister’s wedding last month to fix a server crash. "Rohan," Kabir said. Rohan flinched. "Sir, the latency issue is resolved, I just need to—" "Rohan," Kabir interrupted. "You are kind." The room went dead silent. The air conditioning hummed. "I realized today," Kabir continued, his voice steady but thick with emotion, "that if you died tomorrow, I wouldn't remember your code. I would remember that you always make coffee for the interns. I would remember that you stay late not because you're slow, but because you help everyone else finish their work first." Rohan’s mouth fell open. Kabir turned to Simran, the HR head. "Simran, you are the spine of this place. You absorb everyone’s stress so they can work. You smile when you are exhausted. I have never thanked you for your courage." He went around the room. He didn't speak of KPIs. He didn't speak of Q3 targets. He spoke of Character. He spoke of the Soul behind the role. He delivered twenty-five mini-eulogies to twenty-five living, breathing, stunned human beings. By the end, the atmosphere in the room had shifted. The sterile corporate air was replaced by something warm and heavy. Tears were flowing—not from fear, but from the shock of being Seen. "We are not just building an app," Kabir said, wiping his own eyes. "We are building a life together. And I don't want to wait until your farewell parties to tell you that you matter. You matter now." He ended the meeting. "Go home," he said. "It’s 4 PM. Go see your families. The servers can wait."