Page 22 of Mrs. Pandey
"I like my fucks raw and rough," Karan said with a lopsided grin.
"That's the only thing I like in a man," I replied with a laugh.
"Done making him jealous?" Karan asked, glancing past me. "He's gone."
I looked over my shoulder and shrugged.
"Never thought you two...?" he started.
"Mind your own business, Officer," I cut him off and got to my feet, walking away without looking back.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Rhea hop into the spot I'd vacated and immediately start chatting with Karan, who already looked bored. I scanned the garden and spotted Prashant with Avni and Kavya, laughing at something I couldn't hear. Aryan and Saurav were talking nearby, so I made my way toward them instead.
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I was watching a series on Netflix when Aryan took a seat beside me and started chatting. He was really sweet at least he cared about me, and I still trusted him.
"You okay?" Aryan asked.
I tore my eyes away from my phone and looked at him. "Yeah, why?"
"You seem a little... off. Disinterested."
"Not really my kind of thing," I shrugged, then turned off my phone and pulled out my earbuds.
"Then why did you come?" he asked.
"Because of you," I said with a sad smile, then looked away. I knew Prashant was sitting in the back seat, and I was sure he could hear our conversation. I wanted him to hear it. "To be honest, I'm not even sure why I came. Maybe I just needed to clear my head or maybe I wanted to see how you're treating Avni."
"Hmm..." Aryan gave me a tight smile and said nothing.
"I'm sleepy..." I yawned, covering my mouth. "Can I rest my head on your shoulder for a bit if that's okay?"
"Yeah, sure." Aryan smiled gently and shifted slightly so I could lean against him.
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Chapter 11
IRA
The afternoon sun, which had been steadily strong throughout the day, began to set and cast long, distorted shadows over the training ground. Still, the heat persisted, clutching everything in a stifling embrace. I sat at my desk, the rhythmic click of the keyboard a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the day outside.
Just then, a shrill, angry voice echoed through the air, jolting me from my thoughts. It was Prashant, his roar echoing across the parade ground. I stood up abruptly, my chair sliding back violently, and peered out the window. He was a storm, venting his anger on a young subordinate who was shaking like a leaf in a windstorm.
"What the hell happened to him lately?" I muttered softly, my jaw tightening. He had become different since our last visit, colder and harsher. This was not the Prashant I knew. The man I had worked with, whose unwavering resolve I had admired, seemed to have vanished, replaced by a hard, unbending stranger. I could tolerate rigorous training; I understood the need for discipline in our work. But this? This was the height of sheer cruelty.
He was pushing these men beyond their limits, forcing them to run in the hot, merciless sun, with parched throats, on empty stomachs. Some were doing hundreds of push-ups until their muscles screamed in protest. Some were running with thirty-kilo sacks strapped to their backs, their legs wobbling with the heavy weight.
This was not training; this was punishment. And I, with a certainty that shook me to my core, knew I had to stop this.
Breathing deeply, I descended onto the training ground. The air vibrated with the stifling heat, making me squint. Sweat instantly wet my collar, clinging to my skin. The screams and grunts of the soldiers in the distance seemed to grow even louder in the oppressive atmosphere.
As I walked forward, I caught sight of the surrounded soldiers. Their faces were pale, their movements sluggish. Just then, a young soldier stumbled, his legs giving way beneath him. The heavy sack slid off his back with a dull thud and he fell to the ground, gasping, his chest heaving uncontrollably. His lips were dry and cracked, his face a mask of agony.
Without thinking, I rushed and pulled a water bottle from my holster. I knelt down next to him and pressed the cold plastic bottle to his parched lips. He drank greedily, his hands shaking as if he hadn't had water in days. I looked up, taking a glance around. Prashant hadn't seen me yet; he was still immersed in his scathing comments on another group of soldiers, his back to me.
"Get up," I whispered, patting the young man's soaked shoulder. "Go. Hurry, before he sees..."
