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I was feeling hollow that day. I was going to meet my childhood sweetheart. She was no longer mine, until about a month ago. She knew I was coming. Maybe she was happy to see me after all she had been through. Or maybe she would feel nothing at all. I would just be a distant memory for her. One of the many acquaintances who came and went just to complete their social obligations.

I was once very happy with her. She had followed me all her life. She even followed me to college. She was always there. Within easy reach. And mine forever. I never lost interest in her. I never showed any either. She was a constant in my life. Very much a part of me. I had very much believed that I never needed any other girl in my life. She was a good friend, sister, wife, mother and daughter all rolled into one for me.

All of it came to a drastic end the day she got married to another man. I suddenly lost everything I had cherished all my life. The gaping void she left couldn’t get filled with anything. Not even with my tears. I became helpless, broken hearted and a recluse. The world went through its course ahead and I got left behind. I didn’t meet her. I moved away from the city and joined the defense forces.

I felt good in the army. It was a different phase of my life. Far bigger than the small cocoon I had been a part of. The tough training drowned most of my mental anguish in physical pain. One fine day I graduated from training and became an army officer. I had many seniors who had not been part of any major war and were top officials now. I felt like I had taken the first step towards such a fine life. I was wrong.

We were sent to the some remote villages of Karnataka to maintain a presence. The only purpose of the mission as told to us was to stifle a growing rebellion among the villagers fueled by an unknown organization. We were joined by another battalion of the army. It was not a major war. It was just a minor peace keeping activity. But the people who died were as real. The loss for their families was as great. The only difference was the page in which the news was reported.

I had formed friends with some officers from the other battalion. We were a small group that stuck fiercely together against a common danger. Fear and insecurity were running rife through the group. We patrolled the villages and the jungles in the day and took turns guarding our camps at night. It was one such night when I and one of my friends from the other battalion were guarding the camp.

It all started in a blinding flash and an ear splitting explosion in the camp. I and my friend were some distance away from it when it happened. We had just started running towards it when the gun fire started. It felt kind of surreal. There were rattling sounds coming from everywhere in the darkness. I became aware it was aimed at us, only when the leaves and barks nearby rustled and scraped on getting hit. It was as if death were trapping us from all sides. Something hard hit my head. I stumbled and fell down unconscious.

It was early morning when I opened my eyes. My head felt heavy and I could feel and smell the thick blood choking my breath. The surroundings swam in and out of focus as I tried to move my head. The bright green leaves were splattered with droplets of blood instead of the morning dew. Then I saw my friend. He was standing against a tree, an arrow through his back pinning him to it. He looked dead. I stood up and ambled towards him. He was shot in his neck. I had no hope for his life. And then he moved. He was alive. I went to him and gently patted his cheek. He opened his eyes and looked at me. I was ecstatic to find company again.

I tried breaking off the arrow from his back. But it was wound with some kind of wire like material. I couldn’t break it, nor could I pull it out from the tree. He winced in pain at my efforts. I could see he had pretty much lost hope. He was holding something in his blood stained hands. He showed it to me. It was my sweetheart smiling. That was his wife’s photograph.

I reeled back, overpowered with emotions. My old world came back to me in a flash. In a moment, my wounded friend turned into the till then faceless person who took away everything from me and put me in this situation. I only felt hatred for that person standing in front of me. I still had my gun in my hand. At the back of my mind, I was furiously rationalizing that this person was in no way responsible for anything that happened in my life. He was just my friend who was in great need of me at that moment. My grip on the trigger loosened. I told him what a pretty wife he had. I forgave him. But fate had other plans.

A bullet hit me in my calf. I leaped behind the tree where my friend was pinned. The firing continued from his side. He got riddled with bullets. He was staring at me. He was not dead. He had a plea in his eyes. He was suffering badly. He wanted a last favor from me. I aimed my gun at his forehead. He closed his eyes in peace. I didn’t feel anything. I was doing it for him. I was doing it for my sweetheart. I was being selfless. I pulled the trigger. It was either the recoil or a bullet that hit me on the shoulder. I fell backwards.

I gained conscious in a hospital. There were flowers near my bed. The sunshine made the delicate petals effuse a certain warmth. It was the most beautiful sight I had seen in months. I lay recuperating for about a month. Later I was discharged from the hospital and was given a vacation from duty.

I was feeling hollow that day. I was going to meet my sweetheart.

She looked as beautiful as ever when she opened the door. She smiled politely and invited me in. There was a garlanded photo of my friend on the wall. I turned my glance away. I couldn’t look at it. She brought me tea. She felt empty. There was no cheer left in her. She would occasionally stare past me, lost in her thoughts, when I was talking to her. I stood up to leave. She also rose. I couldn’t stand the pretense any longer. I told her everything that happened. I told her I killed her husband.

She looked at me stunned. Tears welled up in her empty eyes. She broke down and fell in my arms, sobbing heavily. She felt like my old sweetheart now. I felt tenderness and love for her. And between her sobs, she told me another truth. She told me that her husband knew our story. She told me he even knew me by my face. She held on to me tightly now. As if afraid I would leave her alone.

Horrified, I remembered the plea in my friend’s dying eyes before I shot him. I looked at his photo on the wall. He was smiling at me.