Chapter 26
PRASHANT
THREE YEARS AGO
I watched Ira from a distance, her laughter echoing softly through the glass walls of her favorite restaurant. She was sitting with her friends, glowing in a way that only she could. I had just traveled all the way from Jammu to Udaipur just to see her.
It had been six months since I last saw her.
Six months since she looked into my eyes and coldly turned down my proposal.
Since then, there had been no calls, no messages, just silence between us.
But not in my heart, never there. Her memories were still vivid, etched into me like a story I didn't know how to stop reading. I loved her then; I still loved her.
I stood there, right outside the restaurant, watching her. She was smiling. And even though I knew that smile wasn't for me, I smiled too. That's what she always did to me. Even in pain, she made me feel warm.
Pulling the hood of my jacket over my head, I stepped inside. My heart was racing, but I pretended to be calm. I chose a table near hers, not too close, not too far, just close enough to hear her voice. That voice, soft and musical, had always been my favorite sound.
Ira didn't know I was in town. She wouldn't have liked it if she did. She'd probably think I was stalking her. Maybe I was, but what else could I do? I couldn't stay away. Not yet. Not like this.
"How's your boyfriend, Ira? When are you two getting married?" one of her friends asked, excitement bubbling in her voice.
Ira's eyes lit up, and her lips curled into a smile I hadn't seen in a long time.
It was soft and affectionate, but not for me.
"He just came back last night from his duty," she said, her tone almost dreamlike.
"My parents want us to get married soon, but Aryan says we should wait a couple of years. He wants to focus on his career first."
Aryan. That name hit harder than I expected. She said it with so much care, so much love. Every word felt like a dagger twisting slowly. She never considered me anything to her. And I was still stuck in her memories.
Just then, the door swung open and Aryan walked in. He was tall, confident, with a smile that matched hers. The way her face lit up when she saw him broke something in me. It made me feel sad.
He walked over to her, and they hugged, not just casually. It was the kind of embrace that belonged to people who had their hearts in each other's palms. They sat down, hands brushing, eyes meeting like they were speaking in a language only lovers understood.
I watched them quietly and silently. I didn't move; I couldn't. My coffee sat untouched as I saw the life I had once dreamt of playing out in front of me, only with someone else in my place.
It hurt. It hurt like hell.
I tried to focus anywhere but them at the coffee cup in front of me, at the blurred shapes moving outside the glass, at the soft clinking of cutlery and low hum of conversations in the restaurant.
But no matter how hard I tried, my eyes found their way back to Ira.
Back to her smile. To Aryan's hand gently resting on hers.
To the way her face softened when she looked at him.
They were talking, lost in each other, and forgot about the world around them. I couldn't hear what they were saying anymore. I didn't need to. The way they looked at each other said enough. There was affection in every glance and every gesture.
Then Aryan leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.
That moment was so simple and so full of love, but it hit me like a slap across my face.
She closed her eyes briefly, leaning into him like it was the safest place in the world, like she wanted to spend her whole life in his arms. And maybe she did.
My stomach twisted.
Jealousy surged through me; it was sharp and sudden.
I gripped the edge of my seat, trying to steady myself.
My fingers curled into fists beneath the table.
I wanted to look away, but I couldn't. My heart was screaming, and yet my face stayed still.
No one around could tell that I was burning on the inside.
I still plastered that shitty smile on my face like everything was going as planned, but the truth was, it never was.
It used to be my dream to hold her hand across a table, to make her laugh, to kiss her forehead and feel her melt into me. I had imagined it a thousand times. I had lived it in my mind, even if it was never going to happen.
And now someone else was living it effortlessly and deservedly, maybe. But it didn't stop the anger from rising like smoke in my chest. I wasn't angry at her. Never her.
I was angry at the timing. Fate. At myself for hoping that maybe one day, she would look back and find me there, still waiting and loving. But watching her now, with Aryan, I knew. I knew they belonged to each other. She wasn't mine to wait for anymore.
My chest felt tight as I blinked hard and looked away. The walls felt closer. The air was heavier. The coffee, now cold, was bitter on my tongue. I had to leave.
But something inside me whispered, Just a little longer. Just to see her happy. Just to remember her like this, smiling, loved, and beautiful. Even if it shattered me piece by piece. I would love her forever and stay loyal to her.
______
The next day, I returned to my base camp in Jammu. The air back at base was dry, cold, and sharp like the thoughts running through my head.
I had barely spoken since returning. The images from the restaurant played on a loop in my head: Aryan's arms around her, Ira's smile, that kiss on her forehead. It wasn't the kiss that broke me, it was the peace in her eyes. The comfort. The certainty that she had chosen the right man.
A man like him. A Captain.
I stared blankly at the mission briefing folder in front of me. The name on the front: Operation Shadow Wolf - Kupwara Sector Reconnaissance.
It was a dangerous, high-risk mission. Intel indicated that a group of heavily armed insurgents had infiltrated through the Line of Control. With surveillance having failed, we needed covert and silent eyes and ears on the ground. A voluntary team of five was required.
My Commanding Officer looked at me, concerned hidden behind his steel-hard expression.
"You don't have to take this, Lieutenant Prashant. You've already done more than enough in your last posting. We'll find someone else."
I didn't blink. My voice was calm, but it came from a darker place inside me.
"I'll do it, sir."
He studied me for a moment. "This isn't just another patrol. If something goes wrong, extraction won't be guaranteed. You understand what you're signing up for?"
I nodded. "Fully."
He gave a tight nod and signed off the orders. "If you return alive, you'll be recommended for promotion. Captain rank. It'll be fast-tracked. You've earned that."
Captain. The word echoed in my chest like a challenge. That was Aryan's rank. Ira's perfect boyfriend. Captain Aryan.
I wasn't doing this for medals, not for glory.
I was doing this because I needed to feel like I meant something. I wanted to prove, maybe to Ira, maybe to the world, maybe just to myself that I wasn't just the boy she said no to.
That I was more. That I was worth something. Even if I had to bleed for it.
______
A Few Days Later - Kupwara Sector, Line of Control
The valley was silent, as if holding its breath.
This silence was not ordinary; it was ancient. A silence that echoed through time. Rishis had spoken of nothingness, the peace before creation or destruction.
Light snow had just begun to fall, sporadic flakes landing on the tall deodars.
The trees stood like sentinels, oblivious to the presence of humans and the intrigues of nations.
The cold was no longer a feeling. It had become an existence.
A force. It was walking with us, going through every layer of our combat gear, seeping into the bones, testing our willpower.
But pain was not the enemy. It was an attachment.
We had been dropped the previous night. A silent entry. No light, no sound. Five shadows slipping into the underworld surrounded by the forests of the Line of Control. No glory awaited us. No headlines. Only the weight of duty.
Every step forward was a wager with destiny.
Every breath was a prayer beyond words. But I felt no fear.
There was no place for it. Only focus, as sharp as the blade of a Rajput sword.
And beneath that, a strange peace. The peace of a man who has already made his peace with the gods.
If this was to be the end, so be it. At least it would be a meaningful end.
I turned my head slightly, eyes scanning my team. Five men in all, including me.
Two young soldiers, Sharma and Qureshi. Eager, brave, and still untouched by the quiet despair most warriors feel after their first kill.
A trusted Havaldar, Rawat. Hard as Himalayan granite and loyal as Rama's Hanuman.
And then there was Major Nadeem. Calm. Cerebral. A man who carried not just a rifle, but centuries of combat wisdom passed silently from soldier to soldier. He didn't speak unless necessary. But when he spoke, you listened.
We were now deep inside the jungle, moving slowly, thoughtfully. Our mission: confirm enemy movement across the Line of Control. Intelligence was grim, heavily armed insurgents, trained and dangerous.
Technology had failed. Satellites showed nothing. Drones were grounded. Now it was up to us.
Five mortals in terrain where even gods might hesitate. We were no longer men. We were ghosts.
I crouched behind a fallen pine tree. Snow had settled on its bark like ash on a funeral pyre. The forest was too quiet. Even the wind had paused.
I raised a fist. Stop. The team obeyed instantly. No words. Only instinct, honed by fire, forged by loss.
I patted the patch on my chest. Frayed fabric. My name was still stitched under the fading rank, Lieutenant Prashant Pandey.
But not for long.
Promotion was approved. Paperwork pending. But I no longer cared. Ranks are given by men. Respect comes by deeds.
Captain or not, I had made peace with fate. If I returned, I'd be a hero. If I didn't, I'd be a story. Or a name carved into a cold wall.
But it didn't matter.
There was only one name that still echoed in my heart.
Ira.
She didn't know I was here. Probably never would. She had stopped taking my calls. Never once asked if I was okay.
But still...In the quietest part of my soul, I prayed that someday she would hear the name: Captain Prashant Pandey.
And maybe then just for a moment, she would remember the boy who once walked beside her in the rains of Uttarakhand. Who brought her sandalwood bangles from a roadside stall. The boy she used to ride with through nights that now felt like dreams.
The boy who died trying to prove he was enough. Not just for her. But for his motherland. For the gods watching from above.
A sharp crack in the distance.
Not loud. Soft. Like a twig snapping under the weight of intent.
I raised two fingers. Stop.
Major Nadeem shifted, hand on his rifle. I nodded. He understood.
They were close. The enemy.
We breathed the same cold air.
I gripped my weapon, jaw set.
There would be no retreat.
No room for mistakes.
Tonight, we would walk into the pages of memory.
Or into the arms of death.
But either way we would walk like soldiers.
______