Chapter 47
KAVYA
The letter was a secret I kept locked deep inside my heart. Abhiraj called every day, his voice heavy with grief, trying to convince me to move back to the city or join the memorial services. I told him I needed time alone. I told him I needed to process everything in the silence of the villa.
But the truth was, I couldn't just sit and wait. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Saurav lying in a cold, unfamiliar room in a village I couldn't even name. The thought of him in pain, surrounded by strangers, was more than I could bear.
He had asked me to wait, but he didn't realize that my heart had already started its journey the moment I read his words.
I packed a sturdy backpack with essentials like bandages, medicines, warm clothes, and some of his favorite snacks that wouldn't spoil. I didn't tell anyone. I didn't want to be stopped. I took a flight to Guwahati and then a long, bumpy bus ride toward the border of Assam.
The air in the mountains was thick with the scent of damp earth and pine. I started my search in the small town where the letter had been postmarked. At first, people shook their heads when I showed them his picture. The language barrier was a wall, but my desperation was a hammer.
I spent three days talking to locals in tea stalls and markets. Finally, I met a young girl named Khushi who recognized the description of the "man from the sky."
"The Hidden Valley," she said in broken English, pointing toward the towering green peaks that were swallowed by clouds. "No roads go there. Only paths for the goats and the brave."
Khushi introduced me to her uncle, a weathered man who knew the jungle like the back of his hand. He agreed to take me, but he warned me that it would be a long, difficult walk. I didn't care. I would have walked across the world if it meant finding him.
The journey was grueling. We trekked through dense jungles where the sunlight barely touched the ground.
My feet blistered, and my muscles screamed in protest. Leeches clung to my boots, and the humidity made it hard to breathe.
We spent the first night under a makeshift tent of leaves, listening to the roar of distant waterfalls and the calls of wild animals.
I was exhausted, but I didn't complain. Every step forward was a step closer to him. The locals looked at me with curious, kind eyes. They didn't understand why a city girl like me was pushing herself so hard, but they respected my silence.
On the afternoon of the second day, the trees finally thinned out. Below us lay a tiny village of wooden huts with thatched roofs, nestled in a basin of emerald green. It looked like a place that time had forgotten.
My heart began to race. "Is he there?" I whispered.
The uncle nodded and led me down a steep, narrow path. When we entered the village, children stopped playing to stare at me. We were led to the largest hut at the center of the clearing. An elderly man with a long white beard and skin like wrinkled parchment stepped out. He was the Village Head.
Through Kushi’s uncle, I explained who I was. The old man’s eyes softened. He didn't say much; he simply turned and gestured for me to follow him to a smaller, quieter hut near the edge of the forest.
Inside, the air was cool and smelled of burning herbs. My breath caught in my throat.
There, on a simple wooden cot, lay Saurav.
He was sleeping quietly, his chest rising and falling in a shallow rhythm.
He looked so weak. Both his arms and his left leg were wrapped heavily in white gauze.
He had lost so much weight that his cheekbones were sharp, and his skin had a pale, waxen tint.
He looked nothing like the powerful, confident pilot I had seen in those Bali videos.
He looked like a man who had been broken and put back together by hand.
I gestured for the Village Head to leave us. I walked up to the cot on tiptoes, afraid that even the sound of my breathing would shatter him.
I sat on a small wooden stool beside him.
I didn't wake him. I just sat there for an hour, watching him.
I watched the way his eyelashes flickered and the way his fingers twitched in his sleep.
I reached out, my hand trembling, and hovered it just above his forehead, wanting to feel his warmth but afraid to touch his wounds.
The silence of the room was heavy, filled only with the sound of the wind rustling the trees outside. I felt a mountain of guilt for every day I had spent away from him, for every secret I had kept, and for the month I had spent in Switzerland while he was fighting for his life.
Finally, he groaned softly. His head turned on the pillow, and his eyes slowly blinked open.
At first, they were clouded with confusion. He looked at me, and for a long moment, he didn't move. He stared at me like I was a dream he had been having for fifteen days, a beautiful hallucination that would vanish if he spoke.
"Kavya?" he whispered, his voice like sandpaper. “Is this you?”
"Yes, I'm here," I choked out, the tears finally breaking free. "I'm right here, Saurav."
In an instant, the confusion in his eyes vanished, replaced by a raw, desperate hunger. Despite the bandages, despite the fractured leg and the broken ribs, he lunged forward. He pulled me into his arms with a strength I didn't think he had left.
He groaned in pain as his movements jolted his injuries, but he didn't let go. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his breath hot against my skin.
"You came," he said, his voice breaking. "You actually came."
I wrapped my arms around him as gently as I could, holding him as if he were the most precious thing in the world. The pain of the jungle, the fear of the crash, and the distance of the last few months melted away in that one, agonizing hug.
He was alive. He was mine. And this time, I was never letting him go.
The silence of the hut was broken only by the sound of our breathing. Saurav held onto me for a long time, his grip tightening every time I tried to pull back to check his bandages. It was as if he was afraid that if he let go, I would turn back into the mist of the Assam mountains.
"You’re hurting yourself," I whispered into his hair, my heart aching as I felt him wince. "Saurav, please. Lie back down."
He finally pulled away just enough to look at my face. His eyes were red, searching mine with an intensity that made me feel exposed. "How did you find me? I told you to wait. I didn't want you to see me like this."
"You should know by now that I don't listen very well," I said, a small, watery smile breaking through my tears. I reached out and brushed a stray hair from his forehead. "And I don't care how you look. I only care that you're here."
I helped him settle back onto the wooden cot.
Every movement was a struggle for him. He told me more about the crash, the terrifying moment the engines died, the smell of smoke, and the sudden, violent impact.
He spoke about the villagers who had carried him on a makeshift stretcher for miles through the rain to get him to this hut.
"They saved my life, Kavya," he said, his voice soft with gratitude. "But the whole time I was drifting in and out of that coma, I only heard one thing. I heard you calling my name."
I took his hand, lacing my fingers through his.
His skin was rough and scarred, but his touch was still the only thing that made me feel grounded.
I told him about the agony of the last few weeks, the flight from Switzerland, the grim briefing at the Air Force station, and the broken watch they had given me.
"They think you're gone. There’s going to be a memorial."
A shadow crossed his face. "Let them wait a little longer. I’m not ready to be an officer now. I just want to be your husband for a while. No ranks, no missions, no secrets."
I nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. For two years, our lives had been a whirlwind of expectations and hidden feelings. Here, in this village at the edge of the world, there were no cameras, no Chauhan family legacy, and no academy pressure. There was just us.
Over the next few days, I became his nurse. I worked with the Village Head to learn which herbs to boil for his pain and how to change his dressings without tearing his skin. I fed him warm broth, and slowly, the color began to return to his face.
One evening, as the sun dipped behind the peaks, painting the sky in shades of violet and gold, Saurav looked at me and asked the question I had been dreading.
"Why did you go to Switzerland, Kavya? Truly?"
I looked down at our joined hands. The time for lies was over. "I was scared, Saurav. I thought that if I stayed, I would lose you, too. I thought I was cursed for you too. But when I heard your jet had gone down, I just couldn't..." I shook away tears.
Saurav pulled my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles. "We have a lot to fix when we go back," he murmured. "But for now, this is enough."
I leaned my head against his shoulder, watching the first star appear over the valley. We were miles away from civilization, surrounded by jungle and mystery, but after a long time, I felt like I was exactly where I belonged.
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