“Hello,” Nandini chirped as soon as she picked up the phone.

“Hello?” Sangram momentarily pulled the phone away from his ear to glance at the screen. A woman’s voice on the other end had caught him off guard—it was unexpected. He asked, a bit puzzled, “Can I talk to Naveen?”

“Oh wow, Santosh! Your English has really improved!” Nandini replied brightly, teasingly.

“Excuse me?” came the confused response.

“What, will you talk to me only in English now?” she giggled, checking the phone screen as she spoke. But the name that appeared on it froze her in place—Sangram Sir.

The phone slipped from her hand, and in utter disbelief, she cupped both palms over her mouth. Her eyes widened as though her voice would never return again.

The sound of the phone hitting the floor immediately alerted Naveen, who abandoned his workout mid-set and rushed toward her.

“What happened? Whose call was it? Why aren’t you saying anything?” He looked at her standing there, shocked into silence, and panic gripped him. Picking up her phone from the floor, he found it miraculously undamaged—though the call had ended.

Suddenly, Nandini’s stunned expression turned into fury, and she smacked his shoulder.

“Hey! Why are you hitting me?” he protested, trying to dodge.

“You told me it was Santosh’s call! And I was talking to your Sangram Sir thinking it was Santosh!?”

“What are you even saying, Di?!” Naveen’s phone slipped from his hand this time.

“Is he going to scold you?” Nandini asked, her anger giving way to concern as she saw his worried face. He picked up his phone, now dusted with a layer of soil from the floor.

“Well… depends on his mood. Either there’ll be a storm of anger or just a few harmless clouds,” he muttered. “But Di, you should have at least checked before answering! I just guessed it was Santosh, and you believed it?!”

In a rush, he redialed Sangram’s number. His heart was thumping. Sangram rarely called. And when he was home on leave, he never called. What could be the reason now?

By the fourth ring, Sangram answered.

As soon as he did, Naveen’s tone turned formal, respectful. “Hello, Sir… I’m sorry, Sir… No, no, Sir… Yes, Sir… Of course, Sir… I beg your pardon, Sir?!” he kept saying, darting glances at Nandini, who stood holding her breath, expecting a thunderous scolding any second.

“What happened?” she whispered, raising her brows in silent interrogation. To her, all she could hear were “Yes, Sir” and “Ji, Sir,” none of it making any sense.

But the change on Naveen’s face—relief, then pure joy—made it clear he wasn’t getting scolded.

“Absolutely, Sir… As you wish, Sir… Jai Hind, Sir!” he concluded and disconnected.

Before Nandini could ask anything, he jumped and punched the air in triumph.

“What happened?!” she asked, thoroughly confused.

“I’m going to Delhi!“ he shouted and dashed down the stairs. Nandini, who hadn’t heard the full announcement, chased after him.

Downstairs, Naveen had already turned the house into a scene of celebration. With his parents standing before him, he shared the entire story with the excitement of a child announcing a school prize.

“Sangram Sir has called me to Delhi! I have to leave tomorrow morning,” he said, barely able to contain himself.

“So suddenly?” his father asked, concerned. “Is everything alright, son?”

“Yes, everything’s fine. His mother’s hosting a small dinner at their house to celebrate his Army Medal. He got it recently, remember? He said he wants me there.”

“You’re going all the way to Delhi just for dinner?” Nandini asked, incredulous.

“No, no! He said his parents want to meet me. Can you imagine what that means? For him to have spoken about me to his family? That they even know my name?”

His enthusiasm was bursting at the seams.

“Well then… go,” Nandini murmured, trying to hide her dismay.

“His father is a retired Major General. We’ve all heard the stories of his bravery. I'm already nervous about meeting him. I don’t even know what I’ll say!”

“Will you be staying at their house in Delhi?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

“Yes.”

“They’ll let you?”

“What are you saying, Di? Sangram Sir personally invited me! He doesn’t talk to just anyone like this. And it’s not like I’m going to live there forever. Just one night. Then back to Kashmir with him.”

“So the little time we had you home, you're giving that away too?” Her voice trembled with disappointment.

“Nanda, let him go,” their father interjected gently. “These are the moments to learn, to grow. Go, son. If he’s called you, you must go.”

“I’m not stopping him,” Nandini said softly. “But it’s just... it’s so hard to get leave. Who knows when he’ll get it again?”

“I’ll get it, Di, don’t worry. But now tell me—do you finally believe I’m as special to Sangram Sir as he is to me?” he grinned mischievously.

Nandini stayed silent.

“Come on, Di. Admit it! Everyone in our unit says it.”

“Fine, fine!” she said, mock-exasperated. “You’re the apple of Sangram Sir’s eye,” she added, folding her hands in mock surrender.

Laughter echoed in the house.

That evening, Naveen stood on the terrace with a cup of tea, watching the fields stretch endlessly into the horizon. It was something he always did the day before returning to duty. Who knew when he'd be back? Who knew if he'd breathe this village air again?

That was the life of a soldier. Here today, gone tomorrow.

A warm hand landed on his shoulder. His father had joined him, another cup of tea in his hand.

“Baba… you?”

“What are you thinking about, standing here all alone?”

“Nothing much. Just thought… next time I’m back, we should have a little lawn in front of the house. The grain room’s too small—we’ll make it bigger. And maybe raise the boundary walls a bit...”

“We’ll do it all, son. We’ll do everything,” his father said, patting his shoulder.

Naveen smiled, falling silent.

“Are we rushing her wedding?” he asked after a pause. “I didn’t believe a word of her explanation. Something doesn’t feel right.”

“Navi, don’t overthink it. Her whole village speaks of her decency and kindness. They can’t all be wrong. I trust Jagjeevan ji.”

Naveen had no response to his father’s conviction.

“Alright, as you say. Did you speak to them about setting a date?”

“Yes, they’ll come in a few days for the muhurat. I wanted it done while you were still here, but now that you're going to Delhi, we’ll update you by phone.”

“Hm.” He didn’t like the idea of missing it, but what could he do? When Sangram Sir called, everything else took second place.

That night, the Pandey household echoed with laughter. Naveen made sure to joke and laugh enough for everyone, knowing they’d be sad once he left.

By 3 a.m., he was up, bags packed. Nandini woke up too, helping him prepare.

“You’ll catch the first bus to the city?” she asked, setting a cup of tea on the table.

“Yes, otherwise I’ll miss my flight,” he said, sipping tea while his mother rattled off her usual pre-departure list—eat on time, stay away from bad habits, call when you can...

He nodded and smiled at each one.

“Alright, it’s time. I better leave, or I’ll miss the bus,” he said, glancing at the clock.

Outside, Mahesh was already honking his bike’s horn—his usual ride to the Narriyapur bus stop.

“There he is. Okay, I’m off,” Naveen said, hugging his mother tight. Then Nandini.

His mother and sister always got emotional at goodbyes, and Naveen always promised he’d return soon—with more leave next time.

“Baba, take care. And take care of these crying beauties too,” he joked, hugging his father and waving goodbye, eyes moist, smile intact.

As he sat on the back of Mahesh’s bike and turned one last time to wave at his family standing at the gate, he didn’t know…

He didn’t know this was the last time he’d ever see them.

The last time.

Because everything was about to change.

Forever.