The phone vibrated against the mahogany conference table. A short, violent buzz—like a trapped insect. Kabir froze. He stood at the head of the boardroom table, midway through Q3 growth projections. The room was cold, lit by the glare of a projector showing a graph that climbed upward—a blue line rising toward a heaven made of money. He glanced down. Caller ID: Dad. His first instinct wasn’t worry. It was shame. Six investors watched him—men in suits that cost more than his father’s first car, men who spoke in acronyms: ROI, EBITDA, CAC. Answering a father’s call during a Series B pitch was a violation of status. It signaled you were tethered to domestic trivialities. It made you look human. And in venture capital, humanity often feels like depreciation. He probably wants to ask how to change the TV channel, Kabir thought, irritation spiking. Or he wants to tell me he made lentils. He slid his finger across the screen. Decline. “As I was saying,” Kabir continued, voice regaining its practiced baritone, “our user retention is up by 40%.”