Chapter 2 - The Soldier who never misses

The desert woke early....

Even before the sun stretched its arms over the endless sweep of stand, the air was already heavy with heat, shimmering faintly across the dunes. The wind carried the scent of dust and gunpowder, for here, in the middle of Rajasthan's military training grounds, war never truly slept.

Captain Aarav Rathare stood with his men, the harsh light etching sharp lines across his face. His uniform clung to him, Crisp despite the sweat already soaking through the collar. A thin scar traced along his jawline, not ugly but stark, the kind of mark that said without words: I've seen what most men would run from.

''Formation!'' Aarav barked.

Boots thundered against sand. His squad of twelve soldiers snapped into position with practiced case, rifles gleaming in the sun. Each one watched him like a compass needle locked north, waiting for his command.

Aarav lifted his own rifle, fingers moving with calm precision as he loaded the magazine. The weight was familiar, almost comforting. He leveled his weapon, eyes narrowing down the sight.

BANG

BANG

BANG

Three shots.

Three perfect bullseyes.

His men didn't even look surprised.

They never did.

Major Kabir Malhotra, his second - in - command, let out a low whistle as he slung his rifle casually over his shoulder.

Kabir was tall, broad-shouldered, with a mischievous glint in his eyes that rarely dimmed. He grinned at Aarav.

''Sir, I swear you've got iron in your veins. Do you even bleed?''

Aarav glanced at him, the faintest curve of a smirk tugging at his lips.

'' On weekends ''

Laughter rippled through the men. Even here, in this unforgiving land, humor was their shield, a momentary reprieve from the grim reality of the work they did.

Aarav allowed it, even welcomed it. Soldiers needed levity, if only to survive another day.

''Enough chatter,'' Aarav cut in, through his voice carried no real bite.

''Reset targets. Double time.''

The men moved, obedient but smiling their respect for Aarav evident in every quick step.

After the drill ended,the squad dispersed to drink water and wipe sweat from their body.

Aarav, however, remained behind. He walked slowly to the shade of a canvas tent where lockers stood lined against a metal wall, each one dented, scarred, warn from years of service.

He opened his own with a quiet creak. Inside, neatly folded clothes and weapon parts gleamed. But tucked into the corner, almost hidden, was a small photograph. The edges were worn, colours faded.

He lifted it carefully, as though it were made of glass.

A boy of perhaps ten stared back at him, grinning wide, his arms throws around Aarav's shoulders.

They were standing by a field of mustard flowers, yellow stretching as far as the eye could see.

Aarav's expression in the photo was younger, freer, a smile without shadows.

That boy's laughter still echoed in his ears sometime, in the lonely hours after missions. But it was always chased by another sound : A deafening blast, a scream swallowed by smoke, silence where joy should have been.

Aarav closed his eyes briefly. He slipped the photograph back into the locker, locking away not just the picture but the ache it carried.

Duty didn't allow room for ghosts.

Later, in the mass hall, Kabir dropped his tray heavily beside Aarav. The clatter of stainless steel plates jolted him from his thoughts.

''You're too quiet'' Kabir said, shaving a piece of flat bread into his mouth.

''That usually means You're either brooding, planning something dangerous, or both.''

Aarav didn't look up from his food.

''Soldiers don't brood''

Kabir snorted. ''You do. like a storm cloud.'' He leaned closer, lowering his voice.

''Word is, we're being considered for a UN deployment. Sundari. Civil unrest, natural disasters, the works. Rumor says Special Forces might be sent for security detail''

Aarav's hand stilled briefly over his tray. He didn't answer right away, only resumed eating with deliberate calm.

Kabir studied him, then smirked knowingly. ''And there it is - the Rathor look. Deadly calm which means You're already thinking about it''

Aarav finally lifted his gaze, his dark eyes unreadable.

''If command sends us, we go. That's all.''

''Of course, Sir'' Kabir said lightly, though his grin lingered.

''but you know what they say - Sundari is a powder keg. You'll need more than that icy stare of yours to keep the peace''

Aarav gave no response. He didn't need to. He had learned long ago that words were unnecessary in his line of work. Only action mattered.

That evening, The base quilted.The desert sky turned a bruised purple, the horizon aflame with gold as the sun dipped. Soldiers retreated to their barracks, some writing letters home, others drifting into restless sleep.

Aarav sat alone at his desk, cleaning his rifle piece by piece. The repetitive motion was grounding. Metal against cloth. Barrel gleaming under lamplight.

Outside, the desert stretched endless and indifferent. But in his mind, Aarav already saw Sundari. He saw the chaos, the violence, the faces of innocents caught in the middle.

And he knew - whether by command or by fate - his path was heading there.

.

.

.

.

.

He didn't know it yet, but somewhere in Kolkata, a young doctor name Ananya Sen had already chosen the same destination.

Their collision was inevitable.

And when it came, the soldier who never missed and the doctor who never give up would find their lives entangled in ways neither could escape.

.................TO BE CONTINUED.............

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