Tagline: Isha heads to the border; Adil takes his first post.
The air grew thinner and colder as the military convoy climbed the winding roads toward the Kashmir border. This wasn't the manicured lawns of the Ambala Cantt anymore. This was the edge of the world.
[Isha's POV]
The back of the army truck jolted over every rock, vibrating through my bones. I looked out at the mist-covered peaks. I had volunteered for this—a two-month stint at a remote medical camp near the Line of Control (LoC).
"First time at the 'Zero Point'?" a senior nurse asked, noticing my white knuckles on the bench.
"Yes," I whispered. "It's beautiful. And terrifying."
"Nature is beautiful, Isha. The politics... not so much."
When we arrived at the base camp, the scenery was dominated by olive green. Tents, trucks, and uniforms. As I stepped out, my breath hitched in the cold. I felt a thousand eyes on me—soldiers surprised to see a young woman in a doctor's coat.
I adjusted my bag and walked toward the medical tent, trying to channel my father's confidence. I wasn't here to fight; I was here to ensure that those who did stayed alive. But looking at the jagged ridges above, I felt like a tiny speck in a massive, ancient feud.
[Adil's POV]
I was perched on a rocky outcrop, my binoculars focused on the Indian supply route across the valley. It was part of my first real patrol. My instructor's voice rang in my head: "Identify everything. A bird, a leaf, a shadow. Everything is intel."
I scanned the dust-kicking convoy that had just arrived at the Indian camp. Soldiers jumped out, unloading crates. Then, a splash of white caught my eye.
I adjusted the focus.
A woman. She was wearing a white coat that stood out like a prayer against the dull brown and green of the mountains. She looked small, but she stood tall as she navigated the mud. For a moment, I forgot to look at the crates. I watched her tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
"Khan! What do you see?" my sergeant barked.
I jumped, my heart skipping. I couldn't say: I see a girl who looks like she doesn't belong in a war zone.
"Supply convoy, sir. Mostly medical crates. Looks like they've reinforced their field hospital," I reported, my voice sounding more professional than I felt.
"Good. They're expecting trouble then," the sergeant grumbled.
I took one last look through the lens before moving. I wondered why she was here. Was she forced? Or was she like me—trying to prove her worth to a family of legends? I didn't know her name, but as I climbed back down to our bunker, the image of that white coat stayed with me. It was the only peaceful thing I had seen in weeks.