Major's Soft Obsession

Chapter 6: The Helmet He Left And The Morning She Did Not Expect

Myra woke up to a black helmet on her study table.

It was not hers. It was Major Veer Singh Rathore's — and under it, there was a note about her bindi.

Myra Malhotra sat up in bed at 5:30 AM. Her hair was a mess of loose pins, her black saree was wrinkled from sleeping in it all night, and the heavy army blanket was still pulled over her. Her small silver earrings were still on. Downstairs, someone was doing push-ups and counting loudly. One! Two! Three! Loud, disciplined, impossible to ignore.

Last night, after he had dropped her at the Pine Villa gate at 10:25 PM, she had tried to return the helmet.

"Take your helmet," she had said, holding it out to him, her voice tired, the drape of her saree slipping slightly from her shoulder.

"Keep it tonight," he had replied without taking it. "You come downstairs at night. The kitchen is dark. You might slip. Keep the helmet light near you. Return it tomorrow."

It was a terrible excuse. A helmet does not have a light.

But Myra had been too tired to argue. She had carried it upstairs and fallen asleep just like that.

Now it was morning, the push-ups were still going on downstairs, and under that helmet, there was a small white paper. It was the back of a medical bill. On it, in bold, straight handwriting with a black pen, it was written:

_Your bindi was tilted yesterday. Fix it next time before going on stage. - V_

Just V. Not Major. Not Veer.

Myra's heart jumped. She touched her forehead. There was no bindi now, it had fallen off while she slept. But yesterday, he had noticed. He had noticed the bindi. He had noticed the drape of her saree slipping. He had noticed everything, but all he had said was that she looked messed up.

She smiled without meaning to and folded that bill like it was a love letter.

Downstairs, the counting stopped at one hundred. Then silence. Then the sound of water running in the bathroom.

Myra quickly changed into an oversized white t-shirt and soft pajama pants, tied her hair into a messy bun, and washed her face. She kept that small paper safe in her pocket and went downstairs to make tea. She wanted to return the helmet and fight him for writing a note instead of saying it directly.

At 5:45 AM, Veer was already in the kitchen. Grey t-shirt, black shorts, towel over his shoulder, hair wet. He was making black coffee. Strong and bitter.

"You are early again. Second time. Good habit?" he said, looking at her.

Myra kept the helmet on the counter with a thud. "Your helmet. And your note."

Veer glanced at it. "What note?"

"This! You wrote my bindi was tilted! Why write? Why not say it last night?"

"Because last night you looked completely messed up. If I had said anything nice, you would think I am flirting. I am not."

"You think saying my bindi was tilted is nice?"

"It is an observation. Not nice. Nice would be — you looked beautiful yesterday. I did not say that."

Myra's cheeks turned red instantly.

"You noticed my bindi but you said I looked messed up!"

"You looked messed up and beautiful both. Both can be true at the same time, Myra."

Silence fell in the kitchen. The coffee machine was humming. Morning light was falling through the window onto his face, onto the small scar near his eyebrow, onto his stubble. His eyes looked softer today.

He poured coffee into two mugs and pushed one toward her.

"I don't like black coffee," she said, making a face. "It is bitter. Like you."

"Then add sugar yourself. I don't add sugar for tenants."

She added two spoons and sipped. Still bitter, but better.

"Major, can I ask something personal?"

"No."

"Please? One question only?"

"One. Only one."

"Why do you live alone in this big house? Where is your family? Wife? Girlfriend?"

"That was three questions, not one. Family in Jaipur. Father is a retired Colonel, mother is a teacher. This house belongs to my father's friend. I am posted in Dehradun for six months. No wife. No girlfriend."

"No girlfriend?" Myra asked too fast, her eyes wide.

Veer caught that interest and smirked. The first real smirk of the morning.

"Why? You want to apply? You are nineteen, Myra. Too young to be the girlfriend of a Major who wakes up at 4:30 AM and shouts counting."

"I did not mean that! You are so self-obsessed!"

"I am self-obsessed? You asked about my girlfriend status at 5:47 AM in my kitchen wearing what looks like my t-shirt."

"It is not your t-shirt! It is fashion! Oversized is fashion!"

Veer laughed. A short, real laugh this time. Not a cold laugh.

Myra froze. When he laughed, he looked younger. Like twenty-four, not thirty.

"You should laugh more," she said softly. "You look less rude when you laugh."

His laugh stopped. The mask was back.

"Finish your coffee. I have to go to the cantonment. Today no college? Saturday?"

"Saturday off."

"Good. Stay home. No boys after seven. Remember. And keep that helmet. I have an extra one."

It was a lie. He had only one helmet. He had gone without one last night. Myra had seen it in the mirror.

"You have no extra helmet! You went without it last night! I saw!"

"You saw it in the mirror?"

"Yes!"

"Good. Means you looked back at me. Good to know you care if I wear a helmet or not."

"I looked because the police would catch you! Not because I care!"

"Of course. Police. Not care," he said, walking up to change into his uniform.

At 10 AM, Myra heard his bike start. She ran to her balcony. He was in full uniform now, helmet on, files in his bike bag. He looked up once at her balcony before leaving. She hid behind the curtain.

At 11 AM, the doorbell rang. A small sss box had arrived for Veer Singh Rathore. Myra kept it on his office table. She did not open it.

At 3 PM, he returned and opened it in front of her while she was making instant noodles.

Inside was a small silver anklet with tiny bells. Pretty and delicate.

"You ordered an anklet?" Myra asked.

"For my sister in Jaipur. Her birthday is next week," he said.

"Oh." She tried to sound normal, but a strange disappointment came into her chest.

Veer saw her face fall for a second and said nothing.

At 6 PM, there was a soft knock on her door.

Veer was standing there in a t-shirt, holding the same box.

"Your anklet sound was too loud last night on the stairs. This one has less sound. Less disturbance. Rule One. Wear this if you want to wear an anklet."

Myra stared. "It is for me?"

"It is for less noise," he said. Another terrible excuse.

Myra took it slowly, her fingers brushing his. A current passed between them.

She sat on the floor right in front of him and wore it instantly. Her small feet, the new silver anklet, the bells making a very soft, light sound.

"See? No sound now," she said, shaking her foot.

Veer looked down at her feet, then looked away quickly.

"Good. Now I can sleep after 9 PM. Keep your door locked tonight. I am going for a night patrol. I will return late."

He left, but stood outside her door for two extra seconds, listening to that soft bell sound as she walked inside.

Downstairs, he opened his army diary and wrote:

_Day 6 of leave. Tenant still here. Broke Rule 2, 1, 5. I broke Rule 5 too. Bought anklet. Need to control._

Upstairs, Myra wrote in her notebook:

_Day 6: He gave me an anklet because my old one was loud. He says it is for Rule One but he actually cares. Major Grumpy is soft._

Both of them were lying in their diaries.

At 10:30 PM, the power went out.

Heavy rain hit the Pine Villa roof. The whole bungalow went dark.

Myra was alone. Veer was on night patrol.

Her phone had only 2% battery left. The main gate outside was making a loud creaking sound in the wind, like someone had left it open.

Her hands were shaking. She dialed the only number she had saved.

"Major... the lights are gone and the main gate is open. I think someone is outside my window."

The call disconnected. Battery dead. Rain louder.

And downstairs, the main door handle moved.