Shourya's POV

The moment my eyes fell on her I was awestruck, the innocent yet healthy glow she had, lit up something in me, a strange emotion. Before I was caught staring shamelessly, thankfully she diverted her attention back to her call.

Get a grip Shourya!

After giving my inner self a pep talk and telling myself to stop being a teenager, I finally regained my composure and the words left my mouth, weren't the one I wanted to say but my obnoxious male ego had something other in mind.

"I would rather like to leave your complaining sarcastic self alone", these words of hers brought me back to earth as I watched her hailing an Auto and rushing past me.

Now you are a day dreamer too!

"Sir?" The voice of my junior, Raghav, gained my attention. I cleared my throat as he had an amused look on his face which was annoying the hell out of me. "What? Why are you giving me that look?"

I mustered a tough exterior which seemed to work as he straightened up and every sign of amusement wiped from his face. I felt myself relaxing and tapping him on the shoulder " We should hurry"

He quickly nodded and ran towards the car and with a final look in her direction, I retreated as well.

As soon as I sat in the car, my eyes fell on the damaged car, parked in the corner. Without a second thought, I quickly clicked a picture of the numberplate and sent it to my trusted Alby, to gain information about her.

Just a cautious measure nothing else!

Cautious? Huh! Is she a spy or something? Go kid yourself!

Shrugging away the questions that popped up in my brain as outcomes of my actions, I drifted away to my phone to focus on the task at hand. I sighed as I thought about it, nevertheless I have to do it.

As the car rushed pass the bustling roads of Mumbai, slowly we entered into a humble residential society. As the car slowly passed the neighborhood and finally came to halt, all of my senses became prominent.

The car was quiet, I was sure, as sure as about Raghav looking at me through the rear view mirror. With a quick nod to myself I hustled outside. Raghav on the other hand was waiting for me to give him instructions.

Poor guy, I didn't knew how to handle this situation myself let alone giving him instructions was something I couldn't do today.

Without zero exchange of words, I walked to the Entrance Gate of a modest house, more precisely "Jahan" (Our world). Beautiful name for a house. My palm were sweaty and my heart beat increased. It seemed like the first day of recruitment but definitely tougher than that.

Before I could ring the bell the wooden gate opened and there stood an old man assumingly, Mr. Ibrahim, in a kurta-pyjama with newspaper in hand. His eyes were going back and forth from him and his car, maybe to Raghav's uniform also.

I was in formals but chose against wearing uniform just because it didn't felt right. It wasn't just a duty for me rather my regards for their loss, regards that I didn't had the guts to pay on Asad's funeral.

He cleared his throat and looked at me through questioning eyes. " How can I help you officer?". I gulped and a sudden feeling of guilt ran through my veins. Words chose not to come out. His questioning gaze felt too sharp to bear as if it will penetrate me and find my deepest secrets.

This is how It felt, everytime whenever I loose somebody from my regimen, somebody who could have lived if my actions would have been different.

"Sir? I am Shourya Singh Rajput, Sn.(Lt) from Jheshum Regimen. I was the leading officer to Martyr (Lt) Asad Ibrahim". my monotonous tone, ran a shiver down my spine at the coldness it held whereas the heating gaze of Mr. Ibrahim was becoming unbearable.

After a few moments of silence, with just the sounds of nature, he finally spoke. "Let's talk inside", I released a breath I didn't even knew I was holding and nodded. "Can you wait for a few moments outside?"

Without waiting for Raghav's reply, I followed Mr. Ibrahim in. The driveway was gorgeous with thick borders of flowers mowed in a way that it created an arc stripe throughout the driveway till the front door.

I entered the living room while my eyes roamed all around the space capturing every inch of it. My eyes felt captive towards the side wall or more like a memory wall which held so many pictures, trophies, certificates and all those things that were reminder of the good times.

A clearing of throat brought back my attention to the man in front. Embarrassed at being caught I said, "I apologize for staring sir, your home is very beautiful". With a simple nod he gestured me to sit. We were seated opposite to each other with a coffee table in between.

It was so quiet that even the ticking of the clock was sounding clearly. "Shourya?" In a snap I looked at the source of the sound and found the old man looking at me with an unknown emotion.

Guilt started kicking again while memories flooded in. I am at fault for their pain.

"I know even if I ask how my son died, you won't be able to tell, I know how army protocol works. So don't worry I won't ask questions which you are obligated to not answer. Even though I know my son devoted himself for the sake of his soldiers and country I wanted to know, did he killed them, the terrorists?"

I felt myself nodding at him as tears brimmed in his eyes, tears of both proud and sorrow. I felt somebody walking our way , I was about to turn when I saw an elderly lady walking through the space and putting cups of tea and snacks in front of us.

"Beta, have something. You were Asad's friend right? Please feel at home" With a gentle smile she handed me the cup of tea and sat beside Mr. Ibrahim.

"Nafisa, meet Mr. Shourya Singh Rajput, Asad's leading officer and as you said close friend". At the mention of my name, surprise was easily visible on her face. She looked at me and then at her brother. With a nod and a hesitant smile she got up and went inside the house.

Huh! So they know I exist.