The moment Naveen stepped out of the Delhi airport, he spotted him.

There, standing by the curb in his crisp casuals and commanding presence, was Sangram Singh Sanger himself.

Naveen’s eyes lit up. He hadn’t expected him to come in person. A wide smile broke across his face as he ran towards the man he admired so deeply. But the closer he got, the more his smile faded—his eyes widened, stunned by what he saw.

Sangram raised a curious brow, catching the change in his expression.

“Jai Hind, sir!” Naveen greeted, though his gaze was clearly fixed elsewhere.

“Jai Hind, Pandey. Good to see you made it,” Sangram replied, clapping his shoulder with a rare, faint smile.

“Is that... is that a Harley-Davidson?!” Naveen finally blurted, unable to take his eyes off the magnificent machine beside Sangram.

“Yeah,” Sangram nodded slowly, finally realizing what had stolen all of Naveen’s attention. The boy had been gawking at the bike, not him.

Naveen stood silently for a beat, drinking in every inch of the roaring black beast. His dream. His obsession.

“It’s... it’s so cool,” he whispered, reverently.

Sangram’s smile widened. “Then it’s yours, from today.”

“What?! No, no, sir. It’s yours. And it belongs with you,” Naveen said quickly, circling to the back and climbing on, still starstruck. “Besides, I always imagined you riding a Royal Enfield.”

“I have one.”

“You have two bikes?”

“More than that,” Sangram replied calmly. “I’ve loved them since I was a kid.”

“Horses, dogs, and bikes. I know,” Naveen grinned, repeating what he’d heard so many times before. Sangram smiled too and kicked the engine to life.

“Shall we, Commando?”

“With pleasure, sir!” Naveen laughed, donning the second helmet and saluting dramatically.

The Harley roared, cutting through the Delhi air like a bullet through silk. Naveen had been to Delhi many times for courses and assignments—but this trip was different. This time, he wasn’t here to report to headquarters and catch the next train back. He was here on invitation—Sangram's invitation. To meet his family. To share in their joy.

As they rolled up to the stately gates of the Sanger bungalow, a uniformed guard opened them without being told. The lawn was lush, blooming with colors like a painter’s palette, wrapping the home in elegance.

“Your house is—” Naveen started, but his sentence was cut off.

From behind the house, four massive dogs came charging at them like a battalion of furry missiles.

“Meet Cooper, Duke, Maverick, and Leo,” Sangram said with affection, patting each of them as they jumped around.

“They’re really friendly, sir!”

“Not with everyone,” Sangram chuckled. “You must be a special case. They don’t let anyone near me—or themselves.”

“Come on. Mom’s been waiting for you.”

“For me?!” Naveen blinked in surprise.

Sangram simply nodded and walked toward the house. Naveen followed, still puzzled.

“Mom, look who’s here…” Sangram called out as they stepped into the airy foyer.

A tall, regal woman appeared from what seemed to be the dining room. Around sixty, she looked at least a decade younger. A bold red bindi sat on her forehead, her dark eyes lined in thick kohl. She wore a crisp chiffon saree, tastefully accessorized with subtle makeup and minimal jewelry—but her presence was undeniable, radiant like sunlight on polished marble.

“Naveen, this is my mother, Kaveri Yashwant Singh Sanger,” Sangram introduced, stepping aside.

“Oh, Naveen! I’ve heard so much about you,” she beamed. “You must know—our Sangram never speaks of anyone. It’s an impossible feat to get a word of personal opinion out of him. But you? He’s mentioned you more than once. I’ve wanted to meet you for quite some time.”

Naveen was speechless. He hadn’t expected this warm, affectionate welcome. Gathering his wits, he bent down and touched her feet.

“Bless you. Welcome to our home.”

From the corner of his eye, Naveen spotted a man seated in a leather chair, a book resting in his hands. As their eyes met, the man quietly closed his book and placed it on the side table.

“Sir! Thank you for your service, sir!” Naveen suddenly snapped to attention and saluted.

This was him—Retired Major General Yashwant Singh Sanger, whose tales of bravery had inspired Naveen through his training.

“And thank you for yours, Lance Naik Naveen Kumar Pandey,” the general returned the salute with equal pride.

Kaveri and Sangram exchanged a glance and smiled.

Later, as they sat around the dining table, Naveen began to sense the rhythm of the Sanger household. Meals were quiet, precise, almost ritualistic. Each bite taken with grace, every movement elegant and restrained.

This wasn’t like home.

Back at the Pandey residence, dinner wasn’t complete unless Naveen teased Nandini into shouting at him, their mother threw in her snide commentary, and their father inevitably took his daughter’s side. It was loud, messy, full of love.

Here, everything was... composed. Silent. Disciplined.

“Can I... take some kheer?” Naveen asked suddenly, sheepish but grinning.

“Of course, beta,” Kaveri said warmly, gesturing for the servant to step back as she herself served him a bowl.

Just the sight of the creamy dessert lifted his mood.

“I love it, actually.”

“Hm. Sangram told me. I had it specially made for you,” she said, smiling as she watched him dig in.

Naveen looked at Sangram, who stayed silent but met his gaze with a quiet nod.

“Our younger son, Vikram, loved kheer too,” Kaveri added softly.

Naveen’s spoon froze midair.

He looked up at the mother—a woman whose womb had borne a protector of the nation, and lost him to it. Her eyes welled up, shimmering with pain that had clearly never left.

She looked at the empty chair beside Sangram.

“That’s where he always sat,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

Naveen followed her gaze to the vacant chair and understood—for Kaveri Sanger, Vikram had never truly left. How could he? A mother doesn’t just sever a piece of her soul.

Sangram and Yashwant Ji remained quietly focused on their plates.

That night, Naveen felt the family's grief wrap around him like an invisible shawl. The kind of pain that carves out a home in your heart and stays.

The cost of freedom is never cheap. It demands sacrifice, of blood and of bonds.

Later, Naveen stood alone on the terrace, staring out at the quiet expanse. Footsteps approached. He turned to see Kaveri Ji joining him.

“May I?” she asked with a soft smile.

“Of course, ma’am. Why are you asking permission?”

Below, in the moonlit garden, Sangram played with the dogs. The moment felt still, suspended in silence.

“Tell me... does your Sangram sir ever get phone calls from girls?” she asked casually.

Naveen blinked, thrown off.

“Ma’am, I... don’t follow.”

“Does he have a girlfriend?” she asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

Naveen hesitated. Should he lie? From the way she was asking, it felt like she already knew the answer... and dreaded it.

“None that I know of,” he finally said.

“Surely someone must have caught his eye. A fellow officer? Some relative of an officer from one of those Army parties? A civilian maybe?”

She wasn’t letting go.

“No ma’am. And that’s our complaint too,” Naveen grinned, trying to lighten the mood. “He doesn’t give any girl attention—and won’t let us either! That’s why we’re all still single, ma’am. Just imagine.”

Kaveri chuckled, but it faded into a sigh.

“Maybe there was someone... and they broke up?” she ventured.

“No, ma’am. Nothing. Just... a dry desert. No sign of rain,” Naveen said with mock drama.

She inhaled deeply.

“I sit in this vast palace alone... at the age when I should be playing with grandchildren. All I long for is a child’s laughter echoing through these walls. But no—this one won’t marry, and his father only cares about books. I should travel to Himalayas I think,” she said bitterly.

Her voice trembled. Her grief, though hidden behind pearls and poise, found its cracks.

She had once been surrounded by joy—when Vikram was alive, when she still attended kitty parties, when life felt full. But now, her world had shrunk to this mansion and its memories.

And maybe, just maybe, tonight she found someone she could speak to—who could understand that beneath the marble floors and medals on the wall was a mother who had given everything to the nation... and was still waiting for something in return to hope for.

"Do you think there's even the slightest chance that any girl might enter Sangram's life?" she asked, clinging to a sliver of hope.

Naveen stayed silent.

"Tell me the truth."

Naveen gave her an innocent look and slowly shook his head.

Seeing his expression, Kaveri burst out laughing. Naveen laughed too. Hearing her unrestrained laughter, even Sangram—playing with the dogs below—looked up at the terrace.

After all, it was the first time in years his mother had laughed so freely.

"Sorry, ma’am," Naveen said, a bit sheepish.

"I’ve never seen a face as innocent as yours. And not ‘ma’am’—call me Aunty," she said, placing a gentle hand on his head and smiling warmly.

"But ma’am…"

"Aunty is fine… You're such a sweet boy," she said with a fond smile.

Naveen smiled back, touched by her affection.