Where Heart Returns-4

Chapter 7: Attack and Recovered

Advice

Meanwhile, back at her home, Ekansh’s mother sat quietly after hearing Aadhya’s story. Tears welled up and spilled over as she finally understood the pain her son was causing.

With a trembling voice, Aadhya confessed,

“Ma, I can’t make your son love me. He’s so cold… jealous, harsh, and yet I see it in him—he’s in love. But he won’t say it, won’t let it show.”

Mrs. Batra’s heart broke. She thought of the boy she once knew—warm, lively, full of life. Now, he was a stranger to her, a stone heart wrapped in duty.

“Poor Aadhya, she whispered to herself, I should have warned you about my son’s walls. He hides everything—his pain, his feelings. Forgive me for not preparing you. One day, he’ll trust you enough to speak his heart.”

She reached out gently, her voice soft but firm,

“Don’t chase him, Aada. Don’t fight his silence. Instead, be the storm he can’t ignore. Let him feel what he’s missing.”

Aadhya spent the next two weeks with her family, slowly healing and gathering her strength. Each day, she reminded herself not to let Ekansh’s coldness break her spirit. “He thinks he can push me away, make me regret caring—but I’ll turn it around. I’ll make him realize what he’s losing.”

Her mind sharpened with a quiet determination. “If he won’t admit his feelings, then I’ll make him chase me. I won’t be the one who’s hurt anymore. This time, he’ll see what it means to lose someone who truly cares.”

When she finally returned to the base, there was a new fire burning in her eyes— stronger, fiercer, and ready to face whatever came next.

The Changed General

When Aadhya finally came back, she was different. The warm, cheerful general who used to light up every room was gone. Now, she walked around the base with a serious, almost distant expression. Her voice was sharp and professional, leaving no room for her usual friendliness.

At the morning briefing, Ekansh noticed her immediately. “Welcome back,” he said quietly.

She nodded but didn’t look at him. “Thank you, Commander,” she replied in a flat tone, keeping her eyes fixed straight ahead.

The distance between them was clear, and the easy connection they once had felt like a memory.

Throughout the day, Ekansh watched her from a distance. Every time they met, her response was cold and distant — no smiles, no warmth.

The recruits whispered quietly,

“Did something happen while she was away?” “She doesn’t even joke like before…”

Ekansh knew deep down it was because of his own harsh behavior. His coldness and jealousy had pushed her away.

She used to smile at me, even when I was distant or rude, he thought, but now, she won’t even look my way.

That invisible wall between them made him realize how much he had hurt her — and how much he truly missed the connection they once shared.

Awkward Conversations and Distant Replies

Over the next week, Ekansh tried to start conversations with her, but his attempts were subtle and awkward.

“How’s your unit doing?” “Fine.”

“Any problems with the training schedule?” “No issues.”

Each time, Aadhya gave short, formal answers and quickly walked away. Her bright, lively self-seemed gone, replaced by a distant, cold presence — like a wall between them.

Ekansh often stayed near the training grounds, watching her lead the troops. Seeing her talk to others, even without her usual laughter, made him feel uneasy.

One afternoon, he finally managed to catch her in the corridor.

“General Aashi,” he said, stepping in her path.

Aadhya stopped, her gaze sharp but unreadable.

“ Yes! Commander. Do you need something?”

He hesitated, then shook his head.

“No… nothing urgent.”

“Then if you’ll excuse me,” she said evenly, sidestepping him and walking away without a backward glance.

Ekansh stood there for a long moment, her clipped tone echoing in his mind.

“She used to light up when she saw me… now I’m just another officer in her way.”

Night Shift and Lingering Distance

That night, they were patrol partners. The air was colder than usual, and thick fog covered the forest. Aadhya walked ahead, her face calm but unreadable since she came back. Ekansh followed a few steps behind, his eyes shifting between the trees and her.

“Why am I still watching her?” he thought, tightening his grip on his rifle. “She’s here, but feels so far away.”

The team moved quietly, boots softly crunching on the wet ground. Suddenly, a gunshot cracked through the silence.

“Trap!” someone shouted.

Chaos broke out. Bullets flew, sparks flashing as they hit metal. Aadhya dove to the side and shouted clear orders.

“Take cover! Squad Alpha, left side! Bravo, hold position!”

Ekansh fired back, his eyes on Aadhya. She moved calmly, sure and fearless.

“She’s changed… tougher, colder,” he thought.

Aadhya glanced back briefly, noticing Ekansh watching her.

“Why does he look at me like that?” she wondered, feeling a strange mix of anger and something softer inside.

In that moment, everything felt different — the fight around them, and the distance between them.

A shot rang out, and Aadhya staggered.

“Aashi!” Ekansh’s voice burst out before he even realized he’d called her by her first name — not ‘General.’

She collapsed against a tree, her hand clutching her chest as blood soaked through her uniform. For a moment, Ekansh froze, the world shrinking until only she mattered.

Then he pushed through the rain of bullets to reach her side.

“Stay with me!” he said, his voice trembling even though he tried to sound firm. He pressed his hand over hers, feeling the warmth of her blood.

“You’re going to be okay. Do you hear me?”

“Why did I call her Aashi?” he thought, guilt crashing over him. “All the harsh words, the coldness… what have I done these past few days?”

Aadhya’s mind was clouded with pain, but even in that moment, she thought,

“He’s scared. Maybe he’s not as cold as I thought.”

Her lips parted, a weak laugh escaping. "Bossy… as always…"

"Shut up," he snapped, panic rising like a tide. “Not her. Not now. Not like this.”

The firefight raged around them, but all Ekansh saw was her paling face. His unit covered their retreat, dragging them back to safety. He carried her in his arms, refusing to let anyone else take her. Every step felt endless, each second a battle against the terrifying thought that he might lose her.

Recovery

Aadhya was rushed into surgery. Ekansh paced the hospital corridor like a caged animal, the walls closing in with each passing hour. He hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten. Every time a doctor passed, his heart stopped.

“Why does it hurt this much?”

“Why does the thought of her not being here feel like the end of everything?”

On morning at 5 o’clock, the doctor finally appeared.

"She’s stable," he said.

Ekansh didn’t realize his hands were shaking until his knees nearly gave out. Relief hit him so hard he had to steady himself against the wall.

He entered her room quietly. Aadhya lay pale on the white sheets, her breathing slow and steady. He stood there for a long moment, watching her chest rise and fall. Then, without thinking, he reached out and took her hand.

“You scared me,” he whispered, his voice breaking. A tear rolled down his cheek, and he didn’t wipe it away. He covered her hand with his as he sat beside her.

Hours later, Aadhya’s eyes fluttered open. She looked at him, and for a moment, the room felt weightless.

“Commander?” she said weakly.

Ekansh snapped awake, swallowing hard, the lump in his throat making words hard. “Yeah… I’m here.”

She tried to smile but it faded. “You’ve been here the whole time?”

He wanted to say no, but his tired eyes, pale face, and dirty uniform told the truth. He nodded.

“I’m not leaving you. Not ever.”

He didn’t realize how much his heart ached until tears came, but he wouldn’t let her go. When she woke, those tears gave him away.

Something unspoken passed between them, heavy and clear. Ekansh didn’t say the words in his mind — “I can’t lose you. I can’t imagine this place without you.” But she saw it in his eyes.

For the first time since she came back, Aadhya’s face softened. She gently squeezed his hand, her lips moving like she wanted to say something, but then she stayed quiet.

In that silence, she wondered, “Why is he doing this? Why is he making it so hard for me to let him go?”

The quiet between them was louder than any words.

After a long, heavy silence that seemed to last forever, she finally asked softly,

“Did you cry?”

He shook his head quickly, trying to deny it, but a tear still rolled down his cheek. She gently wiped the tear away.

His whole body shook quietly. His voice was weak as he whispered, “I don’t want to lose you… not now, not ever.”

For a moment, the walls between them broke. Feeling overwhelmed by all he had kept inside for so long, he leaned against her waist, holding her tight as silent sobs shook him.

She wrapped her arms around him, feeling his pain. She thought to herself: “What did you suffer when you were away from me? How much did you hide to stay strong?”

In that fragile moment, they didn’t need words—only the quiet comfort of being close, holding on to what mattered most.

Uneasy Healing and Guarded Interactions

Aadhya spent the next few days in the recovery ward, lying on the narrow hospital bed, the strong smell of antiseptic filling the air. Every time she opened her eyes, Ekansh was there—slumped in the chair, half-asleep but always nearby. His uniform was no longer bloodstained, but his hair was still messy, and his eyes… they looked different. Softer, though he never said a word about it.

"Do you have nothing better to do, Commander?" Aadhya asked one morning, her voice dry as she picked at her blanket.

Ekansh looked up from the data pad he hadn’t been reading. "No," he said flatly.

"And even if I did, I wouldn’t leave."

Aadhya raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into the smallest of smirks. "Protective much? I’m not made of glass, you know."

"You were almost gone," he said quietly, his voice low enough that she almost didn’t catch it. He turned away before she could read his expression.

Her smirk faltered, a flicker of warmth in her eyes quickly hidden behind a teasing scoff. "I’m still here. You can relax, Ice heart."

He said, "Ice Heart… hmm, interesting that you call me ice after everything… uff, I just don’t understand girls."

A soft giggle escaped from her mouth. He watched her with full emotion from his heart.

By the fourth day, Aadhya was sitting up, reading through reports her unit had sent. Ekansh hovered nearby, pretending to check his wrist  but glancing at her every other second.

"Commander," she said suddenly, without looking up.

"What?" he replied.

"You’re hovering," she spoke.

"I’m making sure you don’t push yourself too hard."

She finally looked at him, her lips twitching. "And here I thought the Commander of this base had more important things to do than babysit one stubborn general."

Ekansh’s jaw flexed. "Apparently not."

Aadhya laughed — a soft, genuine laugh — and shook her head. "You’re impossible."

But even as she teased him, there was a softness beneath her playful words. Her tone was light and warm, and her smile touched her eyes this time. She no longer held back; instead, she let him see a glimpse of the feelings she’d been hiding, quietly inviting him closer.

Returning to Duty and the Cold Distance

Late one night, when the ward was quiet and the only light came from the monitors, Ekansh sat in his usual spot, watching her sleep.

“Why can’t I leave?”

He had spent years building walls, keeping emotions locked behind duty and discipline. But with her, it was different. She was in his thoughts even when he tried to push them away. The image of her falling in the forest haunted him, the flash of blood, the weight of her body in his arms.

“I can’t lose her. I… don’t want to.”

His hand moved without thinking, gently pushing a stray hair away from her face. She shifted a little and murmured something while sleeping, making him stop and quickly pull his hand back.

“What is happening to me?”

Two weeks later, Aadhya was cleared to return to active duty. She stepped onto the training grounds, her uniform crisp and her expression unreadable and cold.

The bubbly, teasing general the recruits once admired was gone. Now, she was strict and efficient, her commands sharp and commanding.

The soldiers whispered among themselves:

"General Aashi’s different…"

"Do you think it’s because of the attack?"

Ekansh watched from a distance, his jaw tight. She didn’t look at him once. When he finally walked up to her, she greeted him with a calm, steady voice,

“Commander Ekansh.”

No teasing, no playful spark—just formal respect. She was doing it on purpose, keeping her tone cool to tease him in her own way.

"Is this how it’s going to be now?" he asked quietly.

Aadhya’s gaze stayed steady as she said, “We’re soldiers, Commander. We do our duty — no emotions involved.”

He felt a sharp pang at the word Commander, so formal, so distant. She said it deliberately, a subtle tease, hoping it would push him to finally admit what he’d been holding back.

Chapter 8: The Chase

The Return of Teasing and Unspoken Bonds

Aadhya had just finished overseeing the evening drills, her sharp commands still ringing in the air. The recruits scattered, their chatter filling the training yard. She kept her arms crossed, that cold, unreadable expression firmly in place.

Ekansh watched her from a distance, his usual stoic face betraying nothing, but inside, frustration twisted in his chest.

When the last soldier left, Aadhya turned on her heel to leave.

"General Aashi," Ekansh called after her.

She stopped but didn’t turn around. "Commander Ekansh," she replied coolly, her voice steady.

"You’re being different," he said, stepping closer.

Aadhya finally turned, her eyes narrowing just slightly. "You’re just noticing now?"

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. "Just kidding. I like teasing you, Commander… especially when you take everything so seriously."

There was a pause—the air heavy between them.

Ekansh’s brow twitched, his usual composure cracking. "Tease me?"

She gave a short nod, almost challenging. "Yes. Maybe I enjoy watching you try to figure me out."

And with that, she turned and walked away, her boots clicking against the ground. "Aashi," Ekansh called again, his voice lowers this time. But she didn’t stop. “Why does she always have to walk away?”

He quickened his steps, his long strides closing the distance between them. “You’re not getting away that easily,” he called out, his breath catching as he followed her.

Aadhya glanced back, the icy mask on her face breaking just enough to show a hint of a smile.

“Oh? Is the mighty Commander Ekansh actually chasing me?” “You’ve left me no choice,” he replied, his tone unexpectedly playful.

She moved faster, weaving through the dimly lit corridors of the compound.

“You’re determined, I’ll give you that,” she teased over her shoulder.

Ekansh finally reached her, his hand closing around her arm—firm, but not harsh. She stopped abruptly and turned to face him, surprise flickering in her eyes.

“Why?” she asked softly, tilting her head. “Why chase me?”

Ekansh held her gaze, his breathing uneven as though he’d been running much farther than a single corridor.

“I’m chasing you,” he said in a low voice, “because you’re worth it. Even if I don’t always know how to say it.”

Aadhya blinked, stunned into silence. For a moment, all she could hear was the pounding of her own heart.

Her cold expression faltered, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable.

“You’re impossible,” she murmured finally, shaking her head, though there was the ghost of a smile on her lips.

Ekansh’s lips curved — not into his usual tight smirk, but a genuine smile, the first she had ever seen from him.

It was disarming. Warm. Real.

For a heartbeat, they just stood there — his hand still around her arm, her breath catching in her throat.

Then Aadhya chuckled softly, looking away. “You shouldn’t smile like that, Commander. People might start thinking you’re human after all.”

Ekansh’s smile only deepened. “Maybe I only smile for you.”

Aadhya rolled her eyes, but there was a soft warmth in her voice as she teased,

“Careful, Commander. You might just fall in love with me.”

Ekansh smiled like an idiot, unable to hide it.

Ekansh didn’t reply. He just held her gaze, his thumb brushing unconsciously against her sleeve before letting her go.

As she turned to walk away again, her lips curved into the faintest of smirks — one that left Ekansh standing there, realizing he didn’t mind chasing her at all.

Seeking Answers at the Cliff

Later that night, as Ekansh lay in his room staring at the ceiling, a thought kept circling in his mind.

"Why does she always call herself General Aashi?"  he wondered."" I’m sure her real name is Aadhya. I don’t think it’s just a nickname… I need to ask her."

“Where is she?” He kept looking for her almost all the time from morning to dawn.

In the evening, the air was cool, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. Aadhya stood at the edge of the cliff, her hands resting on the rough stone railing, eyes fixed on the vast stretch of sky painted in pinks and gold.

This had always been her place — a rare corner of peace among the chaos of military life. Here, she could breathe, away from the constant noise of orders, drills, and expectations.

Behind her, boots crunched on gravel.

“I knew I’d find you here,” Ekansh said, his voice calm but carrying that edge of something unspoken, with a slight huff as he searched for her almost all over the base.

Aadhya didn’t turn around. “You’re following me again, Commander,” she said, her tone teasing, though it lacked her usual bite.

“I needed to ask you something,” he said, walking closer until he stood beside her. Aadhya tilted her head toward him, her profile soft in the fading light. “Go on.”

Ekansh hesitated; his gaze fixed on the horizon rather than her face. “That name you go by here… ‘Aashi.’ Why? Your name and Aashi — what is the connection? Isn’t it strange to keep a name like ‘Aashi’?”

Aadhya’s lips curved into a faint, almost wistful smile. “Strange? Not to me. It’s… precious, and it’s a lucky name.”

“Precious?” Ekansh finally turned to face her, his brows knitting together. Hearing that name stirred something sharp inside him — a hint of jealousy he hadn’t expected. For a moment, he almost forgot where he was.

She nodded slowly. “It was given to me by someone very special in my childhood. Someone I never forgot.” Her fingers traced absent patterns on the railing. “Every time I hear it, I remember who I wanted to be — and who believed in me back then.”

A silence stretched between them, filled with the distant calls of night birds.

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