Chapter 40
IRA
It had been over a month since Prashant and I returned from his hometown, and in that time, he seemed to grow colder toward me with each passing day. Yes, we talked occasionally, and he even came to my quarters for dinner a couple of times, but that was all, nothing more, nothing deeper.
I had planned to tell him everything about Kabir, to seek his help in putting that bastard behind bars where he belonged.
But Prashant was becoming more and more unavailable.
His days were consumed by duty, sometimes sixteen hours at a stretch.
He barely slept, barely ate. With Independence Day approaching, he was training soldiers for the grand parade at the Red Fort in Delhi.
I told myself it was fine. That it was okay he hadn't been able to get us a quarter yet. That it was okay he couldn't always find time for me. After all, I was in the same field; I understood how relentless the job could be.
But what hurt, what really gnawed at me was that he still hadn't told anyone we were married. I wanted my friends and colleagues to know that Prashant was my husband, but he seemed hesitant, almost resistant, to the idea.
And then there was the matter of Dr. Riddhima Kashyap.
How the heck had she managed to get transferred here?
She always hovered near him, her presence far too frequent to be coincidence.
As if fate itself had decided to assign her to his side, she was even officially posted with him to oversee the soldiers' health during the training period.
Every time I saw them together, something inside me twisted.
Tonight, there was an officers' party at the community hall.
One of our senior officers, Colonel Kunal Shukla, was retiring, and he had invited all of us for dinner.
I wasn't sure whether Prashant would attend, but I had already decided I would.
Mr. Shukla was a great officer-kind, wise, and respected by all.
There was no way I was going to miss the chance to say goodbye.
I took extra care in getting ready. I chose a formal yet elegant outfit, a red top tucked into a flowing white skirt that brushed the tops of my high heels.
My makeup was minimal, just enough to highlight my features, and I straightened my hair until it fell in sleek lines past my shoulders.
A slim belt cinched at my waist added just the right touch of sophistication.
I grabbed my purse, squared my shoulders, and stepped out into the night.
The walk to the community hall took only ten minutes, but with each step, my heartbeat grew faster, for reasons I couldn't quite name.
When I arrived, the first thing that welcomed me was the warm glow of golden lights spilling from tall windows.
Inside, chandeliers hung like they had been borrowed from a royal palace, their crystals catching and scattering light across the polished floor.
The air was perfumed with the scent of fresh lilies, layered with the mouthwatering aroma of roasted chicken and freshly baked bread.
Round tables stood neatly arranged, each dressed in crisp white tablecloths and deep maroon runners.
In the center of every table sat a vase brimming with fresh roses, their petals still glistening faintly as though they'd just been kissed by morning dew.
The soft hum of conversation mingled with bursts of laughter and the gentle clink of glasses, a rare sound of people letting go of the weight of their duties for just one evening.
My colleagues were scattered across the room, transformed by formal attire.
For a fleeting moment, it was easy to forget that we were usually soldiers, doctors, and officers in olive greens and khaki.
Men stood in tailored suits, polished shoes catching the light, while women moved gracefully in flowing sarees and sleek dresses.
They looked like they'd stepped out of the pages of a fashion magazine.
A few familiar faces caught sight of me and waved. I returned their smiles, exchanging polite nods. But my eyes, they had their own mission. They swept the room quietly, searching, always searching for him.
I moved toward the buffet, pretending to admire the display like a casual guest, though my thoughts were far from calm.
Stainless steel trays gleamed under the warm lights, each holding something that could have been served at a five-star hotel-rich, golden butter chicken; deep-red mutton rogan josh shimmering with oil; perfectly grilled fish with char marks crisping the skin; vegetable lasagna layered so neatly it looked like a food stylist had been involved.
And then there was the dessert row, pastries, puddings, and tiny tarts so perfect they seemed untouched by human hands.
But inside me, there was only that restless pull. Would he even come? And if he did... would she be with him?
I picked up a glass of juice, hoping it would calm the storm brewing in my chest. The cold sweetness hit my tongue, but it barely registered. My eyes kept drifting toward the entrance half hoping, and half dreading.
And then, as if fate had decided to twist the knife, I saw him. He was tall, composed, the sharp lines of his formal uniform fitting him like it had been sewn just for him. But he wasn't alone.
Dr. Riddhima Kashyap walked beside him, her every step in rhythm with his.
Her hair was tied into a low, neat bun, her lips painted in a shade of red far too bold for my liking.
She tilted her head toward him, smiling at something he said, and the sight made my chest tighten so sharply it almost hurt to breathe.
I didn't let it show. My face stayed smooth, polite, just another guest enjoying the evening. I sipped my juice slowly, forcing myself to look like part of the happy, glittering crowd, while my eyes burned with questions I wasn't sure I wanted answered.
I had texted him. I had called him. He hadn't replied. Yet here he was, smiling easily beside another woman as if she were the one who belonged at his side.
What about me?
I pushed down the hurt, swallowed it the way I swallowed another mouthful of juice, even though it tasted bitter now. I just needed something, anything, to stop that look from showing on my face.
When I glanced back toward the entrance, they were no longer standing there.
They'd already taken seats right next to Colonel Kunal Shukla and his wife.
Of course. I would meet the Colonel later; it was his night after all.
But for now, I had no chance, not with Prashant as Riddhima occupying his attention.
I grabbed a plate, stacking it with a little of everything chicken, grilled fish, vegetable lasagna.
I found an empty table tucked toward the side and sat down, eating alone.
The food was good as it was rich, spiced, perfectly cooked but every bite felt mechanical.
My mind kept drifting back to him, replaying moments, searching for reasons.
Why was he doing this? I thought he loved me.
Instead, he seemed to grow colder by the day.
"Mind if I join you?"
The familiar voice startled me. I looked up and broke into a smile.
"Saurav!" I got to my feet to hug him. "What a poor surprise?"
"Poor?" He smirked, pulling back just enough to look me over with deliberate slowness. "I'd call it the best surprise you're getting tonight, madam."
I chuckled despite myself and shook my head as he slid into the chair opposite mine without bothering to ask. He grabbed a plate, piling it high with butter chicken like a man who hadn't eaten in days.
"So," he said with that mischievous glint in his eyes, "how's the army's prettiest officer doing?"
"Prettiest? You've clearly not seen the competition around here," I replied, taking another small bite of fish, mostly to keep myself from glancing toward that other table.
He leaned forward, lowering his voice like we were plotting some grand mischief. "Trust me, Ira... competition or not, no one here can pull off a red top and white skirt like you can. I almost saluted when I saw you walk in."
I laughed, rolling my eyes, but his words eased something in me. Saurav had always been like this effortless charm, and quick wit. The kind of man who could flirt with a stone and somehow make it blush.
As we ate, he kept tossing ridiculous jokes my way, some so bad they made me choke on my food, others so outrageously dirty I had to swat his arm and whisper, "Shut up, you idiot, someone will hear."
"Let them hear," he said with a grin, leaning back in his chair. "At least they'll know you're smiling because of me, not because of some boring officer who barely talks to you."
I froze mid-bite, my fork suspended in the air. He didn't know or maybe he did. Maybe that quick glance he threw toward the Colonel's table before looking back at me said more than his words ever could.
"Anyway," he went on, changing the subject before my silence could stretch too long, "you're way too gorgeous tonight to be sitting alone. Good thing I came along. You owe me for rescuing you from looking like the sad wallflower in the corner."
I snorted. "And what's my payment supposed to be?"
He pretended to think, tapping his chin dramatically. "Hmm... how about a dance? Later. When the music starts."
I shook my head, but there was no real protest in it. Maybe, for tonight, I could let someone else pull me into the light. Even if it was just for a little while.
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