The clock had barely struck 4:00 a.m. when the icy mountain air swept across the Himalayan Civil Academy ground. The moon still hung pale in the sky, and the mist swirled low over the field where three sleepy figures—Vihaan, Arjun, and Karan—stood shivering in their tracksuits, eyes half-closed and expressions completely dead.
Sameer Pandey, their trainer, stood with his hands behind his back—spine straight, jaw firm, eyes sharper than a blade. His uniform was crisp, not a single wrinkle visible. His face had that unreadable calm which usually came before a storm.
"So..." Sameer said slowly, walking in front of the three cadets. "You wanted to play lock and seek with your instructor last night?"
Vihaan, rubbing his arms dramatically, mumbled, "Sir, actually it was Arjun's idea—"
Before he could finish, Arjun jabbed an elbow into his ribs.
Sameer raised an eyebrow, "Really? And what about the part where I found you talking to yourself outside my locked cabin while the other two sprinted away like thieves?"
Karan tried to hold back a laugh, but Vihaan looked as if he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. "Sir, woh... actually main toh... I was just... verifying the lock system, sir!"
Sameer's tone turned ice cold. "Excellent. Then verify your stamina too. Start running. Ten rounds around the ground. Right now."
Vihaan's mouth fell open. "Ten? Sir, but it's four in the morning, not a marathon—"
"Eleven rounds," Sameer said without blinking. "Would you like to make it twelve?"
Karan and Arjun quietly took off running, while Vihaan followed, muttering curses under his breath about how the Himalayas had frozen his fate along with his feet.
After a few rounds, Sameer's whistle cut through the fog again. "Stop!"
They halted, gasping for breath, their faces red and sweaty in the cold air. Sameer folded his arms. "Push-ups. Fifty."
Vihaan fell to the ground like a dying soldier. "Sir, my arms are already not supporting democracy..."
Sameer crouched slightly, voice deadly calm. "Good. Let them support discipline then."
Karan bit his lip to stop himself from laughing. Arjun had already lost it, trying to hide his grin behind his palm.
"Sir," Vihaan whined mid push-up, "you should appreciate creativity... at least we didn't lock the mess hall!"
Sameer replied flatly, "Don't worry. I'll make sure you clean it after breakfast."
Just then, he glanced at his watch. "Where is Ms. Roshni Mishra? I specifically called her here."
Before anyone could answer, a voice came from behind, half-yawning and half-annoyed—
"Sir, good morning! Or should I say good midnight training shift?"
Roshni Mishra jogged up, ponytail swinging, eyes still sleepy but sparkling with mischief. She stood beside Vihaan, whispering, "Told you not to mess with him. Now we're doomed together."
Vihaan grinned. "At least I have company in my suffering."
Sameer shot them both a look so sharp that silence instantly followed.
"Ms. Mishra, Mr. Vihaan, since you both enjoy talking—do it while running. Five extra rounds. Together."
Roshni's jaw dropped. "Sir! I was just—" greeting
"Six rounds," Sameer added coolly, turning away.
Vihaan burst out laughing, "See, Roshni? True love comes with cardio."
She glared at him but couldn't help a small smile as they started jogging side by side, trading sarcastic remarks the whole time.
Arjun whispered to Karan, "They'll end up dating or killing each other. No in-between."
Karan smirked, "Either way, we'll get entertainment."
Sameer overheard but didn't comment. Instead, he paced across the ground, watching the four cadets finish their punishment with an expression that gave nothing away.
By 5:00 a.m., the mist had begun to lift, and the rest of the candidates started arriving—rows of trainees stretching, adjusting uniforms, murmuring to each other.
Arpita Singh entered with her clipboard, neatly dressed and focused as ever. She gave Sameer a small nod and handed him a folded paper.
"Sir, this came from Dr. Sidharth. He's advised no tough training for Cadet Ishita Sharma for now. Minor leg injury."
Sameer unfolded the note, scanning it briefly.
"Hmm. Fine. She'll do light warm-up and controlled flexibility drills. No high-impact exercises."
He turned to the candidates who had now lined up in perfect rows. "Listen carefully," his voice echoed through the morning air.
"Today is your Day 2 Physical Evaluation. You'll be tested on endurance, speed, and stability. We'll start with a 2.4 km run, followed by push-ups, sit-ups, and beam balance. After that, obstacle course training—wall jump, rope climb, monkey crawl, and crawl under barbed wire. Every task is designed to break your limit, not your spirit. Remember that."
Roshni, still panting beside Vihaan, whispered, "He talks like an army motivational poster."
Vihaan grinned. "Yeah, but somehow makes me want to cry."
Sameer's voice cut through again, "Mr. Vihaan, Ms. Mishra—care to share your thoughts with everyone?"
Both of them immediately stood straight, eyes front.
"No, sir!" they chorused.
A faint smirk appeared on Sameer's lips—just for a second.
"Good. Let's begin."
And with a sharp whistle, the training day officially began. The sound of boots hitting the ground echoed across the valley, the sun finally peeking over the snow-lined ridges. The Himalayan Civil Academy was awake—and so were the dreams, egos, and emotions of every cadet training to become an IPS officer.
Trainer Sameer Pandey stood in front of them, clipboard in hand, Arpita Singh beside him, noting each name with calm precision.
"Today," Sameer's voice rang clear and steady, "you'll prove how much you deserve this uniform. The tests will measure not just your body—but your control, focus, and mind."
His gaze swept across the line of cadets, pausing briefly on Roshni, Vihaan
Suddenly, a voice came from behind.
"Sir..."
Everyone turned.
It was Ishita Rao, walking with a slight limp but her face determined. She stopped in front of Sameer and saluted smartly.
"Sir, I also have to do the training," she said, her tone firm. "The pain is nothing. I don't want to miss any of my drills."
Sameer looked at her for a moment — the conviction in her eyes reminded him of why she had been selected in the first place.
He gave a small, approving nod.
"It's good to hear that, Candidate Ishita Rao," he said, loud enough for the whole batch. "You are proving what being an IPS officer truly means. Even in pain, you stand tall. Every officer here should have the same spirit."
The cadets clapped lightly, admiring her courage.
But among them, Vihaan Khurana leaned toward Karan and Arjun, pretending to limp dramatically and whispered, "Sir, pain is nothing... I will train even if I break my leg!"
Karan bit his lip to stop laughing, but Sameer's sharp gaze caught them instantly.
"Commando Vihaan Khurana," Sameer said firmly, his voice cutting through the laughter. "I hope you got the message — not just the words."
Vihaan straightened immediately, his smile fading. He saluted.
"Yes, sir. Got it, sir."
"The first task—2.4 km endurance run. Time limit: 12 minutes. Those who fail to complete in time will repeat the task tomorrow—twice."
A murmur ran through the line. Vihaan muttered to Karan, "Sir must be allergic to mercy."
Sameer's sharp voice came immediately, "Mr. Vihaan! Allergic, yes—but only to excuses."
The ground fell silent.
Sameer blew the whistle, and the run began.
Boots thudded against the track, breaths came in gasps, and the cold air bit into their lungs.
Roshni started strong but soon felt the sting of exhaustion. She stumbled slightly, pressing a hand to her knee, whispering, "Come on, Mishra, just a little more..."
Sameer noticed. His voice cut through from a distance—calm, cold, but piercing.
"Ms. Mishra, if you're going to stop, stop. But remember—no one remembers who almost finished."
Roshni clenched her jaw, a mix of irritation and motivation surging through her. "Challenge accepted, sir," she murmured under her breath and began running faster.
Beside her, Vihaan was running like a comic act—half-singing, half-gasping. "Sir, this is not IPS... this is Ironman training!"
Sameer's voice snapped like a whip. "Mr. Vihaan, you wanted to play hero last night—this is your stage. Run like your uniform depends on it, because it does."
Arpita, noting times on her stopwatch, hid a small smile. She knew Sameer's tone—it wasn't anger. It was his way of pushing them harder, pulling out their best without ever showing softness.
By the last lap, Ishita lagged slightly behind. Her injured leg trembled, but she kept her face tight, her breathing shallow. Sameer stepped forward, eyes narrowing.
"Cadet Ishita Sharma," he said firmly as she passed him, "if you think your pain defines you, it will. But if you think your pain belongs to you, it will obey you. Don't escape it—control it."
His words hit deeper than she expected. In that moment, the ache in her leg blurred with something inside her chest—memories of broken family moments, of parents who gave up too soon. No more running away, she thought fiercely.
And she ran—not from pain, but through it.
As the whistle blew, marking the end of the run, Roshni collapsed on the grass, panting. "I... I finished, sir..."
Sameer looked down, expression unreadable. "Barely. But you finished. Remember that tomorrow when you aim higher."
Roshni managed a tired smile. "Cold words, warm meaning. Classic Sameer Pandey."
Arpita hid her laughter behind the clipboard. in her whole life she never seen this much chous in tranining time
Next, the cadets formed lines on the ground. "Fifty push-ups, forty sit-ups. You have five minutes. Go."
Groans echoed as the cadets dropped down. Vihaan, after his first twenty, groaned dramatically, "Sir, my shoulders are filing a resignation letter!"
Sameer didn't even blink. "Tell them rejection is not an option. Continue."
Karan and Arjun chuckled, doing their reps faster, while Roshni, despite trembling arms, pushed herself harder each time she saw Sameer's glance pass by.
He crouched beside her quietly. "You think strength is about muscles, Ms. Mishra?"
She shook her head, still doing push-ups.
"It's about consistency. You fail only when you stop trying."
She didn't respond—but her next ten push-ups were perfect.
Ropes hung from tall beams, wooden walls rose from the ground, and the muddy crawl track glistened in the morning light. This was the Obstacle Endurance Drill, modeled after real IPS physical training.
Sameer explained each segment crisply:
"Wall climb. Rope traverse. Monkey crawl. Low crawl under barbed wire. Team relay. You'll do it in pairs."
Roshni and Vihaan exchanged a grin. "Ready, partner?"
Vihaan winked, "Born ready. Dying soon."
At Sameer's whistle, they ran. Roshni scaled the first wall swiftly but hesitated on the rope. Her palms slipped on the rough hemp fiber.
Sameer, watching from below, said coldly, "Fear is just imagination wasting time. Stop wasting mine, Ms. Mishra."
That was enough—she clenched her grip and crossed the rope.
Vihaan came tumbling down from the monkey crawl, face-first in mud. Everyone burst out laughing—except Sameer.
"Mr. Vihaan," he said in that dangerously calm voice, "did the ground call you by name?"
"Sir, it felt like home!" Vihaan grinned, still lying down.
"Good. Then stay there for five extra push-ups."
The whole batch laughed, even Arpita couldn't hold it in. Sameer's lips twitched faintly, almost a smirk—but only for a second.
At last, Sameer turned to Ishita. "You'll skip the high-impact obstacles. Dr. Sidharth's orders. But I want ten minutes of continuous low-intensity jogging and controlled stretch."
Ishita nodded. "Sir, I'd rather do the full drill. I'll inform you if it hurts."
Sameer looked at her quietly for a moment, then nodded once. "Your call, Cadet. But remember—proving your worth is not defying logic, it's knowing your limit and expanding it smartly."
She smiled faintly and began. Step by step, she pushed her leg beyond fear. Every stretch burned, but Sameer's words echoed—control it. She completed her circuit, and as she finished, the entire batch clapped softly.
Arpita noted in her register, "Ishita Sharma—completed all drills despite injury."
Sameer only said, "Noted. But next time, report early if it worsens."
"Yes, sir," she replied, pride gleaming in her eyes.
When the last whistle blew, the sun was high, and exhaustion painted every face. But behind it—there was satisfaction.
Sameer stood before them, arms crossed. "Discipline is not about perfection. It's about respect—for time, for your body, for your goal. Remember that."
He turned away, leaving the cadets silently admiring his words, though none would dare admit it aloud.
Roshni whispered to Vihaan, "For someone who talks like a robot, he sure hits the right buttons."
Vihaan grinned. "Yeah, except mine are all broken."
Arpita watched Sameer walk off toward the office building—his back straight, his presence commanding—and she couldn't help but smile softly, lost in memories of their own training days.
The day had finally surrendered to dusk at Himalayan Civil Academy.
The sun dipped behind the pine-covered hills, and the chill in the air carried the scent of damp earth and discipline. The training grounds, once echoing with orders and panting breaths, now lay silent, bathed in soft orange light.
Inside the common hall, cadets sprawled on benches and beanbags, the sound of laughter bouncing off the stone walls. For once, they weren't trainees—they were just young souls trying to find a moment of peace after the storm.
Roshni Mishra entered with two steel mugs of coffee, her hair still damp from a quick shower, her face flushed with warmth. "Here, for you," she said, tossing one mug toward Vihaan.
Vihaan caught it dramatically. "Thank you, my savior! After today's punishment, I think I've lost half my soul and all my pride."
Roshni chuckled. "You didn't have pride to begin with."
Vihaan gasped in mock hurt. "Ouch. These words, Ms. Mishra, cut deeper than Sameer Pandey's punishments."
They both laughed, their banter light and easy, drawing a few chuckles from the other cadets around.
She looked around the hall and felt something unfamiliar—comfort. The laughter, the teasing, the exhaustion—it all felt like belonging. And then her gaze landed on the far corner, where Ishita sat alone, leaning slightly on the crutch , her notebook open but untouched.
Roshni frowned softly. She's so stubborn.
She took a sip of coffee and said to Vihaan, "Come on, let's go talk to her."
Vihaan blinked. "To Tandoori Mirchi? You serious?"
"Don't call her that," Roshni warned, though a laugh escaped her lips.
"Fine," Vihaan sighed, stretching his sore legs. "But if she burns me alive, you're responsible for my ashes."
Together they walked over to Ishita's corner.
She saw them coming from a distance and already rolled her eyes.
Please, no drama. Not today.
Her leg still throbbed from the day's training, but more than the pain—it was the memory of Sameer's words that replayed in her mind:
'Control your pain before it controls you.'
When Roshni sat beside her, Ishita closed her notebook. "I told you before, I'm not interested in chit-chat."
Roshni sighed. "I'm not here to gossip. Just checking on you. You did great today, you know?"
"I don't need validation," Ishita muttered coldly.
"And I don't need friends," she added sharply, avoiding Roshni's eyes.
Roshni smiled faintly, not angry—just calm. "Making friends doesn't make you weak, Ishita. It just makes you human."
Ishita scoffed. "Humanity doesn't work in this academy. You'll learn that soon."
Before Roshni could reply, Vihaan leaned casually against the wall, sipping his coffee with exaggerated drama.
"Well," he said, smirking, "someone's been marinated in attitude overnight."
Ishita glared. "Excuse me?"
Vihaan grinned wider. "You heard me, Tandoori Mirchi. You look all red and spicy when angry."
Roshni choked on her coffee. "Vihaan!"
Ishita's eyes flared. "What did you just call me?"
Vihaan held up his hands. "Hey, hey, peace! It's a compliment. You're fiery. Like... you could set this whole hall ablaze."
"Keep talking, and I'll make sure that happens," Ishita snapped, stepping forward slightly despite her injured leg.
Oh boy, I poked the tiger again, he thought. But it was too late to back off—he was enjoying this too much.
He grinned, leaning closer. "See? You're proving my point. You're pure fire with zero chill."
Roshni facepalmed. "You two are impossible."
Vihaan winked at Roshni. "You wanted me to talk to her. This is talking—with passion!"
Ishita exhaled sharply. "I'm not here to make jokes or friends, Mr. Comedian. Unlike you, some of us take this training seriously."
"And yet," Vihaan said smoothly, "you're standing here arguing with me instead of focusing on recovery. So technically, I win."
"You'll win a broken nose if you don't shut up."
"See?" Vihaan grinned. "Even your threats are spicy!"
Roshni finally stepped between them, laughing and exasperated at once. "Okay, stop! You two sound like a bad rom-com audition."
Both glared at her—then at each other—and turned away like sulking kids.
The rest of the cadets burst into laughter, whispering about the academy's new "war duo."
The laughter from the common area drifted faintly into the corridor where Sameer Pandey and Arpita Singh sat reviewing the day's reports.
The room was quiet except for the ticking of a wall clock and the rustle of papers.
Sameer leaned over the desk, scanning the attendance sheet. "Physical drills: satisfactory. Endurance: below average. Team dynamics—" he paused, his jaw tightening slightly. "—needs work."
Arpita smiled softly. "You mean Ishita's temper and Vihaan's comedy?"
He looked up at her, eyes sharp but amused. "Both are distractions. But manageable."
She noted his tone—flat, efficient, yet oddly protective. "You seem to pay special attention to them."
"I pay attention to everyone," he replied instantly. "That's my job."
But Arpita could tell there was more. She'd known him long enough—from their own trainee days—to read what he didn't say. There was pride in his silence. Concern in his strictness.
As Sameer began writing his final remarks, Arpita's gaze lingered on him.
She still remembered those same eyes years ago—focused, intense, unshakeable. The boy who had trained beside her was now the officer she admired... maybe a little more than she should.
Her thoughts drifted—back to that one evening during their own training, when he had stayed behind to help her perfect her shooting stance, quietly saying, "Discipline looks good on you, Singh."
Now, sitting across from him, she smiled faintly at the memory.
Some things never change, she thought. Not him... not my feelings.
Sameer looked up suddenly. "Something funny, Arpita?"
She straightened immediately. "No, sir—just remembering the past drills. How far we've come."
His expression softened just slightly. "Yes. And how far they have to go."
Outside, the cadets' laughter echoed again—Vihaan's unmistakable voice shouting,
"Sir! Request for a new nickname—Roshni the Rambha of Rope-Climb!"
Sameer sighed deeply, rubbing his forehead. "And how far they are from learning silence."
Arpita laughed softly, her eyes warm. "But you love this chaos, don't you?"
He didn't answer—but the faintest smile betrayed him.
The common hall buzzed with laughter and chatter. The cadets of Himalayan Civil Academy were finally relaxing after a grueling day of training. Plates clinked, chairs scraped, and the scent of masala chai and freshly fried pakoras drifted through the air.
Vihaan, sitting with his usual mischief written all over his face, leaned toward Roshni.
"Dekha roshni , yeh academy bhi ek dum comedy show hai," he said, grinning.
Roshni rolled her eyes. "Comedy toh tab hoti hai jab tumhara muu chalta rehte ho."
But before Vihaan could respond with another quip, his gaze landed on Ishita — sitting alone, eating quietly, her expression cold as the mountain wind outside.
He nudged Roshni. "Aye, dekho toh zara— Miss Tandoori Mirchi fir saa akala bhati iski koi problem hai kya yaa insano saa allergy hai , sitting there like she's attending a funeral."
Roshni gave him a warning look. "Vihaan, please don't start again. She's just... not used to people yet."
But Vihaan was Vihaan. He stood up, walked toward Ishita's table, and leaned in dramatically.
"Hello, Mirchi Madam! Aapko pata hai smile free hoti hai, tax nahi lagta uspe!" aap bhii haso aapni mirchi wala attatuid ka sath
Ishita didn't even look up. "Then you must've used your lifetime quota on yourself."
The other cadets snickered. Roshni facepalmed.
"Arre wah!" Vihaan said, feigning shock. "She speaks! Miracle at the academy!"
Ishita glared at him. "And you should shut up before I make sure you can't speak again."
"Ohhh," came a chorus from nearby tables.
Roshni tried to step in between them. "Guys, please—"
But it was too late. Words turned into names, names turned into full-blown chaos.
Vihaan shouted, "Tandoori Mirchi!"
Ishita fired back, "Chipku Joker!"
The canteen erupted in laughter. And then — splash!
A glass of water flew from Ishita's hand, hitting Vihaan straight in the face. Vihaan stood there, dripping wet, blinking like a cartoon character.
"Bas ab toh..." he muttered, and scooped up another glass, tossing it right back. Water splashed on Ishita — and some spilled onto the floor.
"Are you both mad?!" Roshni shouted, trying to hold them apart, but her voice drowned in the growing noise as other cadets began cheering, "Fight! Fight!" and cheering ishita ......ishita .....vihaan .....vihaan .....
The chaos was so loud that it echoed through the corridor — and within minutes, the door of the canteen burst open.
In walked Trainer Sameer Pandey, followed by Arpita, Dr. Sidharth, and a couple of staff members.
The laughter died instantly.
Sameer's sharp eyes scanned the mess — the wet floor, the drenched cadets, and Vihaan standing proudly as if he'd won a medal.
His voice came like ice. "What... is going on here?"
No one spoke. Even the clock seemed to stop ticking.
Roshni tried, "Sir, actually—"
"Miss Mishra, I wasn't talking to you," Sameer said coldly, stepping forward. His boots splashed slightly on the wet floor. "Mr. Vihaan. I'm certain you have something brilliant to say, since you never run out of words."
Vihaan, wiping water from his hair, grinned nervously. "Sir, it was just... hydration training. You said stay hydrated."
A small chuckle escaped from the back — Sidharth trying to hold it in.
Sameer shot him a glare before continuing, "I see. And Miss Ishita — I assume you were assisting in this... aquatic experiment?"
Ishita, jaw tight, said flatly, "He started it, Sir."
"Oh, of course," Sameer replied dryly. "Because that makes it so much better."
Arpita folded her arms, watching quietly — but her eyes occasionally flicked toward Sameer, noticing how his strict tone still held a strange patience, especially around these particular cadets.
Sameer exhaled. "Enough. Everyone — back to your rooms. Now."
The cadets began moving hurriedly. Vihaan muttered something under his breath about dictatorship, earning himself a deadly stare from Sameer.
Roshni was the last to leave, her head lowered slightly. As she turned to go, her shoe hit the patch of spilled water.
"Roshni, careful—" someone shouted, but too late.
Her foot slipped. The world tilted — and before she could fall, a firm arm caught her waist.
Sameer.
Their eyes met — too close, too sudden. Roshni's breath hitched; she could feel his heartbeat against her shoulder, fast but steady. Sameer blinked once, his composure momentarily cracking. His hand tightened just enough to steady her — but as he shifted to help her stand, his own boot slid.
And in one absurd, cinematic moment — both of them went down.
Roshni landed on his chest, her hair brushing against his face, her palms pressed against the firm fabric of his uniform. Their eyes locked again — confusion, heat, and something unspoken sparking in the silence between them.
Around them, the staff froze.
Dr. Sidharth smirked. "Well... gravity seems to be working perfectly tonight."
Arpita's expression tightened — her lips pressing together as she looked away, a flicker of emotion flashing through her eyes.
Sameer snapped back to himself, cleared his throat sharply, and stood, extending a hand to Roshni. "Back to your room, Miss Mishra." His voice was low, clipped — but his gaze lingered just half a second longer than it should have.
Roshni's cheeks burned as she nodded, "Yes, Sir." She turned quickly, almost running out.
Vihaan, of course, couldn't resist. As he passed Sameer, he whispered, "Sir, agar aapko dance partner chahiye toh mujhe bolna tha, ye slip stunt kyun?"
Sameer glared, voice flat. "Extra running tomorrow. Ten rounds."
Vihaan saluted dramatically. "Sir, thank you, Sir!"
The hall erupted in muffled laughter again as the cadets left — leaving behind only the sound of Sameer's sharp exhale.
Arpita looked at him quietly. "You okay?"
"Perfectly fine," he said stiffly, brushing off his uniform.
Sidharth chuckled, "If that's perfectly fine, I'd love to see slightly shaken."
Arpita glared at him, then turned to Sameer again. "They're young. Let them be. But... maybe don't scare them too much."
Sameer looked toward the door where Roshni had just gone. "Discipline isn't fear, Arpita. It's control. And they need to learn it — all of them."
But as he walked away, the faintest shadow of a smile curved at the corner of his lips — one that no one saw but Arpita.
The clock on the wall blinked 9:30 PM. The dormitory was quiet except for the faint hum of the ceiling fan and the occasional rustle of pages as someone turned in their bed.
But Roshni Mishra couldn't sleep.
She had changed her position at least a dozen times — lying on her back, on her side, face buried in the pillow, staring at the ceiling — yet sleep refused to come. Every time she closed her eyes, her mind replayed the same image: that moment in the canteen, her slipping, his arms catching her, his calm eyes meeting hers.
She groaned softly and sat up.
"Ugh, stupid brain... it was just an accident," she muttered, but her cheeks still grew warm remembering how close he had been.
Finally, she gave up. She slipped out of bed, wore her oversized gray hoodie over her nightdress, tied her hair loosely, and tiptoed out of the dormitory. The corridors were dimly lit, the night air cold but fresh.
Outside, the academy garden stretched under the moonlight — silent, silver, and serene. The scent of pine and wet earth filled the air. She hugged her hoodie closer, walking barefoot on the grass.
The stillness soothed her — until a faint sound of footsteps approached from the stone path behind her.
Roshni turned.
Trainer Sameer Pandey was walking back toward the staff quarters, his black tracksuit slightly damp from the cold, his hands in his pockets. His sharp gaze softened just for a second when he noticed her.
"Miss Mishra," he said quietly, his tone steady but questioning. "What are you doing outside at this hour?"
Roshni froze, caught like a student sneaking out after curfew. "Uh... actually, I couldn't sleep. So I thought to walk a bit."
Sameer nodded once. "You should be resting. Training starts early."
"I know," she said, smiling faintly. "But, Sir... even trainers need rest. What about you?"
Sameer's lips curved in the ghost of a smile. "Reviewing reports. Some people cause chaos in canteens — someone has to clean up after that."
Roshni bit her lip, embarrassed. "That was... unplanned."
"I noticed," he said dryly.
They began walking side by side down the path, their steps soft against the gravel. The moonlight filtered through the trees, painting pale silver lines across the path.
After a few moments of silence, Roshni said softly, "Sir... can I ask something?"
"You already are."
"Why are you always so cold with everyone?" she asked gently, looking up at him. "You talk like you're carrying the weight of the world. Don't you ever smile... like, genuinely smile?"
Sameer didn't answer immediately. His gaze stayed fixed ahead, eyes reflecting the pale light. "Discipline requires distance, Miss Mishra. The moment I become 'friendly,' you'll stop learning. Respect turns into comfort — and comfort kills focus."
Roshni frowned. "But isn't understanding also part of discipline? You don't have to be so—" she searched for the word, "—robotic all the time."
That earned a quiet exhale from him — not quite laughter, but close.
"Robot? I'll take that as an upgrade from 'heartless officer,'" he murmured.
She grinned despite herself. "So you have heard what people call you."
"I hear everything," he replied, his tone low, eyes meeting hers for a moment that made her heart skip.
They stopped near the small fountain, where the water shimmered softly in the moonlight. The air grew still.
Roshni tilted her head. "Sir, you know what I think?"
"You should smile more," she said simply. "It won't ruin your reputation. Maybe your face will thank you."
Sameer's lips twitched again, but he hid it quickly. "I'll consider your professional advice, Miss Mishra."
"Good," she said proudly, folding her arms. "And maybe try enjoying life a little? It's not just about rules and orders. Sometimes... small things matter too."
He looked at her then — really looked. The way her eyes shone even in the dim light, how she spoke with an honesty that people rarely dared to show him. Something about her presence felt... grounding.
"Enjoyment is a luxury," he said finally, his voice quieter. "Not everyone gets to afford it."
Roshni's smile faded slightly. "Maybe not. But you can still borrow it sometimes."
They stood there, the night heavy with unsaid words. Then, as she turned to walk ahead, her hand brushed against his — just lightly, accidentally — but both of them froze.
The touch lingered, soft but electric. Roshni quickly looked down, her pulse racing. Sameer cleared his throat and stepped aside, giving her way — but she took the same side again by mistake, and they almost collided.
"Sorry!" she said, half-laughing.
Sameer stepped back with a hint of amusement in his eyes. "You really are determined to test my balance today."
Roshni laughed softly. "Maybe it's destiny's way of saying you should loosen up, Sir."
"Destiny needs discipline," he replied, but there was no edge in his tone now — just quiet warmth hidden beneath his words.
For a moment, neither spoke. The wind rustled through the pine trees, and the moonlight danced between them like something fragile and unspoken.
Finally, Sameer said, "You should go back to your room, Miss Mishra."
Roshni nodded. "Goodnight, Sir."
As she walked away, she turned once. He was still standing there, watching the sky — calm, unreadable.
For the first time, Roshni thought she saw something behind that cold expression — a hint of pain, or maybe loneliness.
And she whispered to herself, "Maybe he's not cold... maybe he's just frozen."
The academy grounds were asleep under the silver glow of the moon. Most dorm lights were off. Only the soft humming of crickets filled the silence.
But not everyone was asleep.
Inside Cadet Vihaan khurana room, three boys were wide awake — plotting, whispering, and grinning like schoolboys on a late-night adventure.
"Yaar, bhook lag rahi hai," Vihaan groaned dramatically, clutching his stomach. "Training ke baad toh aisa lagta hai jaise pet mein earthquake aa gaya ho."
Karan smirked. "Toh kya plan hai, Chef Mehta?"
"Plan simple hai," Vihaan whispered, his eyes gleaming. "Operation: Midnight Feast."
Within minutes, Vihaan, Karan, and Arjun tiptoed down the corridor like thieves. Every squeak of the floorboard made them freeze and exchange guilty looks. The canteen's metal shutter was half-open — enough for three mischievous cadets to sneak inside.
Inside the dim kitchen, the fridge light flickered on with a low hum.
"Wah!" Vihaan whispered, peeking in. "Dekho, yeh fridge bhi Sameer sir jaisa hai — sab hai, par smile nahi karta."
Arjun snorted. "Bas juice aur bread hi dikha raha hai."
Karan opened another shelf. "Aur yeh egg... protein hai, bhai. Body banegi."
Vihaan rubbed his hands. "Perfect! Maggi, bread, egg — royal feast. Aaj academy ki history banegi."
Karan laughed. "Aree ruk, mere room mein mini stove bhi hai. Usme bana lenge."
"Maggi!" Vihaan said dramatically. "Food of the warriors!"
Just as he held up an egg like a trophy, a calm but firm voice came from behind.
"What's going on here, boys?"
All three froze.
Standing at the door, in her nightdress and light shawl, was Trainer Arpita Singh. Her hair was damp — she'd clearly just washed up and in her hand a empty jar — and the faint scent of lavender followed her. Her sharp eyes, however, were anything but soft.
Vihaan turned slowly, hiding the egg behind his back.
"Uh... surprise inspection, ma'am?"
Arpita crossed her arms. "At midnight? Inside the canteen?"
Karan coughed. "Actually, ma'am, we were... checking food safety. Cadets' health is our priority."
"Really?" Arpita raised an eyebrow. "And who appointed you health officers?"
Vihaan grinned nervously. "Ma'am, please, don't tell Sameer sir. We were just... searching for food. Pure intention, pakka!"
Arpita stepped forward, her tone cool but amused. "You think you can bribe me with your innocent faces?"
Vihaan placed a hand dramatically on his chest. "Innocent toh hum paida se hain, ma'am. Sirf bhooki aadat thodi zyada hai."
"Go back to your rooms," Arpita said, suppressing a smile. "Right now."
Vihaan sighed. "Ma'am, are you not going to tell him naa
arpita sai commando vihaan back to your room
no...mam first tell me yes that you wil not say him
arpita : if you will not go then definitly , i am going to say
vihaan :Mam ek baar 'haan' bol do... tension free ho jaunga."
Arpita shot him a mock glare. "Tumhara tension free hona matlab pura academy ka kam khatam hoo jaayegaa. Soch ke bolo, Commando Vihaan."
Karan and Arjun chuckled silently behind him.
Vihaan pouted dramatically. "Aap itni strict kyu ho, ma'am? Zindagi mein thoda masala zaruri hai."
Arpita shook her head, trying not to laugh. "Zyada masala jale toh dard hota hai. Ab room mein jao."
"Please, ma'am. Promise we'll sleep straight after eating this bread. Look, pure veg crime hai."
"Vihaan..." she warned, her voice slipping into that trainer tone — half danger, half authority.
He saluted quickly. "Fine! Bread back to fridge. Operation cancelled."
Arpita sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Fine. I won't tell Sameer. But next time, if I catch you—"
Before she could finish, Vihaan jumped happily. "Thank you, ma'am!"
And in his excitement, he hugged her.
The world froze for a moment.
Arpita stiffened, wide-eyed, the warmth of his sudden closeness making her breath catch. Vihaan realized instantly what he'd done — his arms dropped, and he stepped back, blushing furiously.
"Ma'am... I—I'm sorry! I just—uh—I got too happy," he stammered.
Arpita blinked, still processing. His grin was sheepish, boyish — and for a second, she couldn't even scold him. She saw not a mischievous cadet, but a spark of pure youth — something her own heart hadn't felt in years.
She cleared her throat quickly. "It's... fine. Just go back to your rooms, all of you."
"Ji, ma'am!" all three said in unison.
As they hurried down the corridor, Arjun whispered, "Bhai, kya scene tha!"
Karan added, laughing, "Lagta hai Vihaan ka heart ab training ke saath romance bhi seekh raha hai."
"Pagal ho kya!" Vihaan hissed, though a shy smile tugged at his lips. "Aise mat bol... woh serious trainer hai."
"Serious toh Sameer sir bhi hain," Arjun teased. "Phir bhi Roshni unko smile sikha rahi hai!"
They ran off laughing, their laughter echoing down the hall.
Back in her room, Arpita closed the door and leaned against it, her heartbeat oddly fast. The empty glass of water still sat on her table, untouched.
She whispered to herself, "What's wrong with me...? It was just a hug."
But her hand went unconsciously to her heart — and for the first time in years, it didn't feel heavy. Something inside her had lightened, warmed.
She sat on her bed, staring at the moonlight falling through the window.
"Why do I feel this strange calm?" she wondered.
"Is it because of Sameer... or because of him?"
And for the first time, Trainer Arpita Singh didn't know the answer.
The evening breeze carried the faint scent of rain across the Himalayan Civil Academy. Most cadets were resting after the long, exhausting drills, but Ishita Rao's room was dimly lit — her lamp throwing a soft, amber glow over her desk.
She sat on her bed, her injured ankle stretched out carefully. The dull ache was still there, but she could feel it — it was healing. Slowly.
She smiled to herself, proud yet stubborn.
Sameer Pandey's words from that morning echoed in her mind — cold, clipped, yet strangely motivating.
"Your call, Cadet. But remember—proving your worth is not defying logic, it's knowing your limit and expanding it smartly."
She whispered under her breath, "You were right, sir. Ishita Rao kisi se kam nahi."
A faint smirk tugged at her lips. "Mujhe kisi ki zarurat nahi... na ghar walon ki, na kisi aur ki. Ishita... tu khud ke liye kaafi hai."
She stood up, testing her ankle. It still hurt a little, but she didn't flinch. She changed into a comfortable T-shirt and joggers, tied her hair into a messy bun, and sat back down.
She reached for her pain relief spray — only to find it empty.
"Ek din mein kaise khatam ho gaya?" she muttered, shaking the can. "Shayad pehla hi khatam tha."
She sighed, grabbed her jacket, and decided, "Medical room se le aati hoon. Kisko poochhna hai, main khud le lungi."
The academy corridors were silent, except for the echo of her soft steps.
As she reached the medical room, she saw Dr. Sidharth Kashyap locking the door.
He turned at the sound of footsteps.
His expression softened instantly. "Commando Ishita Rao," he said with his calm smile, "kya hua? Kuch chahiye?"
Ishita straightened. "Yes, sir. Spray khatam ho gaya hai. Mujhe aur chahiye."
Sidharth nodded and unlocked the door again. "Come in."
She hesitated, but entered. The faint smell of antiseptic filled the air. Shelves lined with bandages, sprays, and medicines stood neatly arranged.
He motioned toward the cot. "Sit. I'll find it."
She sat stiffly at the edge, her fingers nervously tracing the fabric of her jacket.
Within a moment, Sidharth found a new can and came over. He knelt down in front of her, holding the spray.
Before she could realize, he gently lifted her injured foot.
"Sir, I can do it myself," she said quickly, pulling her leg back. Her voice was sharp, defensive.
He looked up, his tone even. "Relax, Commando Rao. I'm not helping you — I'm treating an injury. You can't reach the back angle of your ankle properly. Let me handle it."
"I don't need help," she snapped. "You already submitted the medical slip without asking me. Mujhe aapki sympathy ki zaroorat nahi."
Something shifted in his expression — the kindness dimmed, replaced by quiet disappointment.
His voice turned lower, controlled, yet firm.
"Acha hai. Kyunki mere paas sympathy nahi hai, Rao. Sirf concern hai.
Jo tum deserve nahi karti... par phir bhi mil raha hai."
For a few seconds, the room went silent — heavy, thick with unspoken tension.
Her breath hitched, but her pride wouldn't let her reply. She turned her face away and stood abruptly.
"Thank you, sir," she said coldly, "I'll manage the rest myself."
He didn't stop her. Just watched as she limped out of the room, her stubbornness echoing in her footsteps.
When the door clicked shut, Sidharth exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair.
"God, she's impossible," he muttered under his breath.
But even as he said it, there was a flicker of something else in his chest — something he didn't want to name.
She's tough. Fierce. But she's carrying something... something heavy.
He leaned against the desk, staring at the half-empty spray can she'd left behind.
Why does she remind me of myself back in training days? Always angry... always trying to prove I didn't need anyone.
Meanwhile, Ishita walked back to her room, her jaw tight with frustration.
"Why can't he just leave me alone?" she murmured.
He thinks I'm weak. Everyone does.
But deep inside, a voice whispered — He wasn't mocking you. He cared.
She clenched her fists. "I don't need care. Mujhe bas jeetna hai. Prove karna hai sabko."
She sat on her bed, staring at the spray. The faint smell of mint and medicine lingered in the air — the same scent that clung to his hands.
And for a second — just a second — she closed her eyes and whispered,
"Maybe... concern isn't that bad."
Then she shook her head, lying down, forcing herself to sleep — unaware that somewhere in the other block, Sidharth too was awake, thinking about her.
"She's stubborn. But she's fire. Maybe one day, that fire will stop burning her... and start lighting her way."
Hey readers!
How did you like today's scene? Ishita's dedication, Vihaan's mischief, and Sameer sir's cold yet motivating style — things are starting to heat up at the Himalayan Civil Academy, right?
I'd love to know what you think —
💬 Who impressed you the most today?
Ishita's spirit, Vihaan's humor, or Sameer's attitude? or roshni thougts and kindness
Don't forget to comment your thoughts below and vote if you enjoyed the scene! Your reactions mean a lot and keep me motivated to write more of their journey.
Stay tuned — the next part will have even more fun, emotions, and unexpected moments between our cadets! ✨
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