Kavya's POV

The air in the Leh community hall was warmer than the open courtyard, yet it felt suffocating—as if the ghosts of every scrutiny ever cast on a soldier's face lingered inside. I tucked my notes into the pocket of my fleece jacket and scanned the room. Twenty chairs arranged in a semi‑circle, a whiteboard scuffed at the edges, and a single window overlooking the snow‑dusted mountains. I reminded myself: these men had seen death up close. My civilian theories, delivered in neat PowerPoint slides, might not impress them—but they needed help just the same.