Kavya's First‑Person POV

The morning after the ridge, thaw had come at night. By dawn, thin rivers trickled through the barracks yard, carrying slush and hope in their shallow currents. I stepped out of my quarters wrapped in three layers—scarf, shawl, windbreaker—yet every breath felt like a shard of ice. Today was different: today I would see him not as Major Rajput the soldier, but as Shashwat the man who laughed once, who bled in silence, who dared to love.