Nimmi sat in the dimly lit living room, her hands trembling as she clutched the edges of her dupatta. The clock ticked loudly, each second stretching into an eternity. Her husband, Arjun, was late, much later than usual. Anxiety gnawed at her, every creak of the old house making her heart jump.

Finally, the sound of the door unlocking shattered the silence. Nimmi rushed to the door, her heart pounding. As it creaked open, she froze.

There he stood, Arjun, his face calm but his clothes soaked in blood. Dark stains marred his shirt and hands, and tiny splatters clung to his face. Nimmi took a step back, her lips parting to speak, but no words came out.

"Arjun... what---what is this?" she managed to whisper, her voice shaking.

He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with deliberate calm. His eyes met hers, but they betrayed nothing---no fear, no remorse, no explanation.

Nimmi was taken aback for a moment. It was the first time in the past three months that he had looked at her directly. That he had met her eyes!

"Where’s the towel?" he asked, his voice steady, as if this were any ordinary evening.

Nimmi’s mind raced, her fear mounting. She pointed toward the bathroom without a word. Arjun disappeared down the hallway, leaving behind a faint metallic scent that lingered in the air.

When he emerged from the shower, his face freshly scrubbed and hair damp, Nimmi was waiting in the kitchen. Her hands were gripping the edge of the counter as she struggled to keep her voice steady.

"Arjun, whose blood was that? What happened? Are you hurt? Did someone..." Her words tumbled out, frantic, desperate for answers.

Arjun ignored her. He moved to the dining table, picked up a jug of water, and poured himself a glass.

"Did you eat?" he asked, his tone neutral.

"Arjun!" Nimmi snapped, her fear boiling over into frustration. "Answer me! What have you done?"

He placed the glass down, turning to look at her with an expression that was almost gentle.

"Did you take your medicine today?"

His calmness was unnerving, like a wall she couldn’t break through. She stared at him, her breath hitching as tears welled in her eyes.

"Why won’t you say anything?" she pleaded. "You come home covered in blood, and I’m supposed to act like nothing happened? How can you expect that from me?"

Arjun walked to her, his presence both familiar and foreign. He placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch steady.

"Nimmi," he said softly, "you need to eat. You’ll feel weak otherwise."

She pushed his hand away, shaking her head. "Stop avoiding this! Please, tell me what’s going on!"

He sighed, his eyes briefly flickering with something, exhaustion, perhaps. But it vanished just as quickly.

"Not now, Nimmi," he said, his tone firm but not unkind.

And with that, he walked past her, disappearing into their bedroom, leaving her standing in the kitchen, trembling and alone. The silence that followed was deafening, her unanswered questions hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break.

Nimmi was still reeling from the unanswered questions when Arjun emerged from the bedroom, a bag slung over his shoulder. His face was set in stone, his movements hurried and deliberate.

"Pack your things," he said abruptly, his voice devoid of emotion.

"Pack? For what?" Nimmi asked, her confusion mounting.

"We’re leaving," Arjun replied, his tone clipped. "Now. There’s no time."

"But why? What’s going on? Arjun, you’re scaring me," she stammered, her hands trembling.

He stopped, looking at her with an intensity that made her take a step back. "It’s over, Nimmi. Everything is over. We’re leaving the country. Tonight."

Her heart sank. The cryptic words, the blood on his clothes earlier, and now this. She struggled to process what was happening.

"Over? What’s over?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Arjun didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. The screen flickered to life, and Nimmi’s world shifted.

A news anchor appeared, her voice urgent and grave.

"Breaking news:

Prime Minister Ahuja and his family were found brutally murdered at their residence tonight. Including guards, security officers, servants, none were spared. Fifty three people were found dead inside the residence.

Sources confirm that Major Arjun Singh Virk and his elite team, once hailed as heroes, are now prime suspects in what is being described as an unprecedented act of betrayal!"

Nimmi’s knees buckled, and she clung to the counter for support. Her ears rang, drowning out the rest of the broadcast. She turned to Arjun, her eyes wide with disbelief.

He stood there, opening and closing cabinets and drawers. Taking out necessary things and stuffing them into the bag.

"You... did this?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Arjun’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t deny it.

He did this! He really did this!

Nimmi sat on the corner of the couch hugging her knees tightly to her chest.  A shiver ran through her spine. A single tear slipped through her left eye. She felt cold. Really cold!

She didn't need to ask him why. She knew why. The why was her!

It had been a rainy afternoon when she first met him. The kind where the sky was a somber gray and the air carried the earthy scent of damp soil. Nimmi had been running late. Her grandmother waited for her at home. She, struggling with a heavy bag of groceries, navigated the slick, uneven pavement of her small town. The monsoon rains were relentless, and her umbrella had given up the fight, leaving her drenched.

As she turned a corner, her foot slipped, and she braced herself for a painful fall. But that impact never came. Instead of hitting the ground, strong hands caught her, steadying her with surprising ease.

"Be Careful, Miss." came a deep, reassuring voice.

She looked up and found herself staring into the eyes of a man in uniform. His dark hair was slightly damp from the rain, and his face bore the sharp, chiseled features of someone who seemed out of place in her modest surroundings. But it was his eyes, calm, steady, and faintly amused, that held her gaze.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his hands still gently gripping her arms closely.

Nimmi nodded, her voice momentarily lost. She noticed the badges on his uniform and realized he was a soldier. A hero, she thought. A faint smile came upon her lips at the that. He was someone who had faced unimaginable dangers yet had taken a moment to catch a clumsy stranger.

"I----I'm fine," she stammered, stepping back and brushing her wet hair from her face. "Thank you."

He smiled, the kind of smile that could disarm anyone. "You might want to be more careful. This weather doesn’t forgive recklessness."

Before she could respond, he noticed her struggling with her grocery bag. Without waiting for permission, he reached out and took it from her.

"Let me help," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Oh, no, it’s fine," she protested weakly, but he was already walking beside her, carrying the heavy bag as though it weighed nothing.

"What’s your name?" he asked as they walked.

“Nimmi Agarwal," she replied, still trying to process the surrealness of the moment. "And yours?"

"Arjun," he said simply, glancing at her with a faint smile.

The conversation that followed was light, filled with small talk about the rain, her small town, and his fleeting visit. She learned he was stationed nearby and had taken a rare afternoon off to explore. By the time they reached her home, the rain had eased, and so had her nerves.

As he handed her the bag at her doorstep, she felt a strange reluctance to see him leave.

"Thank you again," she said, offering a shy smile.

"You’re welcome, Nimmi," he replied, tipping an imaginary hat with a playful grin.

"Maybe we’ll meet again." Nimmi hesitantly said with hope as her cheeks turned red.

"That we will. More frequently in fact." Arjun replied unceremoniously brushing away the few strands of hair that had come loose and was trying to hide her beautiful eyes.

And with that, he had walked away, leaving her standing there, her heart fluttering in a way she couldn’t quite understand.

To be continued....