As soon as Naveen woke up, there was an unusual stir in the Sanger House. Perhaps calling it a stir was too generous, but after the echoing silence of last night, even a few stray sounds felt like commotion to his ears. He figured it must be the relatives—after all, there had been a dinner party last night.

But stepping outside his room, he realized it wasn’t guests that bustled about; it was the staff, meticulously preparing for the evening’s event. His gaze wandered—and then stopped—at the sight of Mrs. Kaveri Sanger, gracefully commanding the kitchen and housekeeping like a quiet general. Not just supervising—if something didn’t meet her standards, she dove in herself, sleeves rolled, focus unwavering.

Naveen quickly retreated to freshen up, returning to find her now engrossed in kitchen work.

“Can I help you with something?” he asked, smiling.

She turned—and for a fleeting second, her breath hitched.

That smile… It was Vikram’s smile. His smile. Reborn on a different face.

She stared for a moment too long.

“Ma’am, may I?” he repeated gently, noticing her momentary stillness.

“Oh… no, no. It’s all being handled,” she said, flustered, her eyes dropping.

Then something struck her. She looked up again, this time with a softer tone.

“What did I tell you last night? No ‘ma’am’ nonsense! You’ll call me Aunty, beta,” she said, smiling.

Naveen chuckled. Only she knew how that single smile on his face felt like a balm to her soul.

“Alright, Aunty. But don’t think I’m offering help just to score points in front of my superior officer’s mother. I help out at home too—my mom and sister depend on me. I’m pretty handy in the kitchen, if I may say so.”

That made her laugh. A warm, full laugh.

“Oh really? That’s wonderful. You should’ve passed some of those skills on to your sir. He doesn’t even know how to boil water!” she said, still laughing.

“Vikram used to help us. He was a wonderful boy... very much like you,” she added with a quiet smile. It was a smile soaked in memory—faded, dimmed, but still glowing.

Naveen didn’t respond. He simply picked up a task and started helping. She gave him a sideways glance, hand on her hip, half-scolding—but he just grinned and didn’t budge.

“So, who all are there in your family?” she asked eventually, surrendering to his persistence. How could she resist that endearing grin that mirrored her lost son’s? Deny him? Never.

“My mother, my father, and an elder sister.”

“Is your father in the army too?”

“No, he’s a farmer. I’m the only one in our family who joined the army. Everyone else is into farming or runs small shops.”

“Ah! And your sister? Is she married?”

“Not yet, just got engaged recently. Her fiancé is in the army too—a havildar.”

“That’s lovely. My best wishes to you all,” she smiled.

But Naveen was nowhere near done. He was now completely at ease in the kitchen.

“My sister is highly educated. I barely made it past twelfth grade, but she has a Master’s in English and teaches in a government school. You know, she’s the most educated woman in our village. The first girl to leave for university. Our village is really backward—no roads, water scarcity, you name it...” He went on, and Kaveri listened patiently, smiling, nodding at intervals with an occasional, “Hmm… really?”

Just then, Sangram returned from his workout. Hearing laughter from the kitchen, he raised an eyebrow at his father, who sat nearby and gestured with amusement.

“Your junior officer isn’t yours anymore, Kunwar-sa. He’s your mother’s devotee now. She took him under her wing the moment he arrived. You go sweat it out in the gym—your post has been captured without a fight!” his father chuckled.

“Dad…!” Sangram rolled his eyes with a smile and headed to the kitchen.

“Pandey,” he said, stepping in.

Naveen, startled, stood at attention. “Sir!”

“Relax, man. Don’t you want to meet the third passion in my life?” Sangram asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“Third passion?! Horses? Here?” Naveen looked at Kaveri, who nodded.

“Not horses—horse. Come, I’ll show you.”

A few minutes later, they were in the stable behind the house. Two elegant horses stood tall.

“This one’s Snow. And that beauty there? Mikhail,” Sangram said, pride glinting in his eyes.

“Wow, absolutely stunning! Do you have more?”

“Yeah, in Sanganer. We’ll go sometime.”

“I’m always ready, sir!”

“Good.”

They spent quite some time there. Sangram taught him the basics of horsemanship. And Naveen, like a good student, soaked in every detail. These rare moments—when Sangram opened up to teach—were the most precious to Naveen. To learn from his hero, to be this close to the man he idolized—it was beyond anything he’d dreamed.

As evening fell, Naveen dressed for the dinner party. Nandini had personally chosen his outfit and sent strict instructions to wear nothing else. Guests had begun arriving—mostly close acquaintances.

Sangram walked into his room.

“Ready, Pandey?”

“Always, sir.”

“Good. I’m glad you’re here. You’ll be a buffer.”

“Why, sir? Something wrong?”

“Not something, Pandey—things.”

Naveen didn’t fully understand then, but it didn’t take long before he saw Sangram’s “problems” in all their finery.

The party was swarming with beautiful, well-dressed women. Naveen had never seen so many elegant women in one place—and nearly all eyes were subtly, but unmistakably, on Sangram. They may have masked their intentions, but it was clear they were there to impress him. Their rapport with the Sanger family made it obvious—they were no strangers. Mostly military families, it seemed, hosted personally by Mr. and Mrs. Sanger.

Sangram stood quietly in a corner. Naveen joined him.

“Drink?” Sangram asked.

“No, sir. You know I don’t drink… My sister would skin me alive if she found out!” he joked.

“Should I ask for a glass of milk instead, Pandey?”

“No, sir…” he replied, suddenly unsure if he’d overstepped.

“I know you don’t drink. A drink doesn’t have to mean alcohol, you know.”

“Yes, sir…” he said, breathing easier.

“Then grab a soft drink and stay away from this circus.”

“What circus, sir?”

“These parties. Just wait—you’ll see.”

Naveen chuckled softly, staying by his side. He knew Sangram disliked crowds. He was a loner at heart.

“You did well, Mrs. Sanger, hosting this lovely evening. We’d nearly forgotten your hospitality,” said a woman, elegantly dressed, sipping her drink.

“Yes, Mrs. Chopra. The noise and celebration feel appropriate only at the right time. And honestly, though we’ve grown used to these parties, we’ve never grown fond of them. And now… the heart no longer finds joy in them. Time changes everything,” Kaveri replied graciously.

The woman nodded.

“And where is the hero we’re celebrating tonight? Our lion—where is he hiding?” asked her husband, a retired brigadier, twirling his moustache.

“Yes! Where’s our Major Sanger?” the woman added.

Kaveri scanned the corners of the room. She knew where to look—in the silence, far from the noise.

There he was, at the window, looking out into the garden. Naveen stood beside him, both lost in quiet conversation. She signaled a staff member to call Sangram over.

A few moments later, Sangram appeared beside her, his stare sharp. Naveen followed.

“Smile, Sangram,” she said, patting his back.

He tried, but the smile wouldn’t come. Pretending was never his strong suit. Naveen struggled not to laugh at the awkward attempt.

Sangram shot him a warning glance. Naveen immediately sipped his juice to suppress the grin.

The ceremony began. Speeches flowed. Compliments were endless—from the retired brigadier and his wife, praising Sangram’s courage, leadership, valor.

And then came the reason behind it all.

Their daughter.

Eva Chaudhary.

Twenty-four. Elegant. Stylish. Accomplished.

And stunning!

"My daughter Eva… and Eva, meet him—Sanger Sahab’s eldest son. This is Major Sangram Singh Sanger, and he was recently awarded the Sena Medal for his bravery! I’ll say only this: like father… like son!" Brigadier Sahab declared with a proud laugh, introducing Sangram to his daughter.

"Hello, Major," Eva said with a dangerously charming smile, extending her hand toward him.

"Hello," Sangram replied in his usual tone—curt, composed, unchanged, like the man himself.

At a short distance, Mrs. Kaveri and Naveen stood watching Sangram and Eva conversing. They seemed engrossed now, speaking softly, and Kaveri’s eyes sparkled with quiet delight.

"Well, they are talking… What do you think? Could something come of it? I really like Eva," Kaveri said with a hopeful gleam in her eyes.

"I do too. They look like a perfect match—both equally formidable!" Naveen grinned. If Sir Sangram found his match, maybe others would get their chance too. His heart was already bursting with sweet anticipation.

But across the room, a girl watched them with eyes burning with jealousy. She was the daughter of one of Kaveri’s kitty party friends—someone who had been trying to catch Sangram’s attention for years. As if impressing a man was the only worthwhile pursuit in her life. In her narrow world, marrying an Army officer equaled a successful life. Otherwise, what was even the point? Dreams and identity—those didn’t exist for her.

Eva stepped aside for a moment, leaving Sangram standing alone. That was all the opportunity the girl needed. Tonight, she would make her final move. No matter what, she had to try.

"Hello, Major," she purred as she walked up and placed a hand on his shoulder.

Without a word, Sangram brushed her hand off.

"Hello," he said shortly, about to turn away when she grabbed his arm.

"Don’t you get tired… leading all those operations?"

"It’s my duty… ma’am," he said flatly, his face devoid of even a trace of a smile.

"Sit with us sometime… talk. We’ll take all your tiredness away," she murmured, her eyes now gleaming with a drunken, unfiltered intent.

"How?" Sangram asked, suddenly leaning closer. His tone was oddly different now—low and edged with something unreadable.

"Take me to your bed, Major," she whispered into his ear.

Without a word, he set down the drink in his hand, gestured for her to walk ahead, and silently followed behind her.

The glow of triumph lit up her face as if her wildest dreams had just started to unfold.

From across the room, Naveen stared in disbelief. Unable to contain himself, he followed them at a distance. Sangram took the girl’s hand and led her into a room, shutting the door behind them. Her heart soared like a kite in a summer breeze. Naveen’s eyes, meanwhile, looked like they were about to fall right out of their sockets.

But just moments later, Sangram stepped back out, calmly shut the door from the outside, and looked completely unbothered.

"Take the bed. Please, feel at home, Miss…? Never mind," he said with a dismissive wave as he turned away.

And there stood Naveen, hands folded in dramatic reverence like a devotee at a temple.

"All hail, O Lord! All hail!" he said, bowing low with mock-worshipping eyes.