Major's Soft Obsession

Chapter 7: The Night He Left Her Alone And Came Back In Rain

Veer left at 8:45 PM.

Black t-shirt, bike keys in hand, army ID in pocket, torch in the side bag. He stood at the bottom of the stairs and said it twice, like an order.

"Myra, I will return at 2 AM. Maybe 3. Lock the main door from inside. Lock your first floor door also. Do not open for anyone. If power goes, inverter will come in two seconds. Keep phone charged. And do not call me unless emergency."

Myra nodded from the top step, holding a Maggi bowl, wearing his oversized white t-shirt and the new silver anklet. The anklet made a light sound when she moved.

"Emergency like what?" she asked.

"Like fire, thief, or you are actually dying. Not like you are bored or scared."

"I am not scared," she said quickly. Too quickly. "I am nineteen. I live alone in Dehradun. I am brave."

Veer looked at her — brave face, Maggi bowl, anklet, big house behind her that creaked when wind blew. He wanted to tell her to go sleep at Lata's house tonight. Lata, the broker aunty next door who liked her. But he didn't. He was a Major. He believed people should learn to be alone.

He left. Bike sound faded down the pine lane.

At 9:30 PM, rain started.

Not normal Dehradun rain. Heavy. Wind shaking the pine trees outside Pine Villa. Thunder every two minutes, lightning that made the whole first floor white for a second.

Myra was upstairs, laptop on bed, earphones in, trying to watch a movie to look brave. But Pine Villa was too old. Wood creaked. The big window facing the pines — branches hit the glass with a thud, thud.

At 10:15 PM, power went.

Full dark. No flicker. Nothing.

She waited two seconds for inverter. Four seconds. Ten seconds.

Nothing came.

Her laptop battery was at 8% because she forgot to charge. Phone was at 34%.

She sat up, heart beating fast now, earphones out. She called in the dark, "Hello? Inverter?"

No sound. Only rain and wind and branches.

She switched on phone torch, the small yellow light shaking because her hand was shaking. She went downstairs carefully, anklet sound loud in silent house. The inverter box was in Veer's office. Office was locked. Key with Veer.

"Great," she whispered, torch on the locked office door. "Brave Myra now scared."

She came upstairs again, locked her first floor door from inside, sat on bed, pulled the blue army blanket over her. The blanket still smelled like him — detergent and faint cigarette.

She tried to call Lata. No network due to rain. Call failed.

She tried Mom. Call failed.

Only one name had full tower somehow. V. She had saved his number as V yesterday — Major Rude.

It was 10:22 PM. He said do not call unless emergency.

Is being scared in dark an emergency? No. He will scold. He will say, you are nineteen and scared of dark? Child?

Another thunder, very loud, lightning so bright she saw her own scared face in the mirror opposite the bed.

She pressed call.

One ring. Two rings.

On third, he picked.

"Myra?"

His voice — low, alert, background rain and jeep engine. He was on patrol.

Her brave voice broke before she could control it.

"Veer... power went... inverter not coming... office locked... I am in dark..."

Veer heard it. Small. Shivering. Not brave anymore.

"Where are you? Upstairs? Door locked?"

"Yes... dark... very dark... tree hitting window... network also not... I called only you..."

Two seconds silence, only rain on both sides.

"Do not move," he said. Voice changed. Still commanding, but softer now. "Keep phone torch on. Keep door locked. I am coming. Twenty minutes."

"But you said patrol till 2 AM... you said do not call unless..."

"This is emergency," he cut. "Save battery. Don't stay on call. I will be there in twenty. Do not open for anyone else. Okay?"

"Okay..."

Call cut.

Myra sat in dark, torch on, blanket tight around shoulders, anklet still when she moved feet. She counted minutes. One. Two. Three. Rain heavier.

Downstairs, main gate creaked at 10:41 PM.

She froze. Nineteen minutes only. He said twenty. Is it him already? Or someone else?

Footsteps on stairs. Heavy boots, wet, mud sound.

"Myra?"

His voice. Veer.

She ran, opened door, torch light fell on him.

Major Veer Singh Rathore, fully drenched, black t-shirt sticking to his chest, hair dripping, water from his nose, boots full mud, breathing heavy because he rode bike fast in heavy rain with no raincoat.

He came.

Without thinking, Myra hugged him. Not side hug. Full hug, face in his wet t-shirt, arms around his waist, shivering.

"You came... you actually came... in rain..."

Veer froze for one second, arms in air. He had not expected a hug. Then he hugged back, one hand on her head, other on her back, patting like calming a kid.

"Okay, okay, you are okay," he said, low near her ear. "Power cut only, not ghost."

"I was scared... house makes sounds... and inverter... and dark..."

"I know, I know. Office key was with me. Sorry, my mistake. I forgot."

He had never said sorry before. First sorry.

He pushed her gently inside, closed door, kept his own big torch on table so room had light.

"Sit," he said, switching on his phone torch too. "I will check inverter."

But he did not go immediately. He stood, dripping water on her wooden floor, looking at her — oversized t-shirt, bare feet with silver anklet, scared eyes, messy hair.

"You are shivering. Cold?"

"No... scared..."

He removed his wet t-shirt in one motion.

Myra's eyes went wide and she turned away instantly.

"What are you doing! Wear t-shirt!"

"It is wet, will make you wet. I have vest inside," he said. He was in black army vest now, still wet but less. He took her blue blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders properly.

"Better?"

She nodded, face red, from hug and from vest view, blanket tight.

Veer went downstairs, opened office with key, switched inverter on. Light came back upstairs after ten seconds. Dim yellow inverter light, but light.

He came back up, hair still wet, vest still wet.

"Power will come in morning. Transformer blast due to rain. Inverter will run till 4 AM. Okay?" He stood near door, not sitting, keeping distance.

Myra sat on bed, blanket around, looking at him. "You came in nineteen minutes in heavy rain... you left patrol?"

"Told junior to handle. I am senior, I can leave if home emergency."

"Home emergency? This is your house, not..."

He looked at her — blanket, small feet with anklet he gave, scared face now calmer.

"My tenant scared alone in dark in my house is emergency for me, Myra. Rule? No. Responsibility."

Myra felt tears, but happy tears this time.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He walked closer, sat on chair, not bed, because vest was wet and Rule Five — no sitting on bed.

"Do not thank. Just next time charge phone full. And keep torch near bed. And learn to not be scared of dark. Dark does nothing. People do."

"You are people? Are you scary?"

He looked at her, small smile for first time that night.

"I am scary for others. Not for you. You hug me when I am full wet and you are not scared?"

She blushed, remembering hug. "That... that was because I was scared! Not because..."

"I know," he said, standing. "Sleep now. I will be downstairs. I will not go again tonight. Patrol done for me. I will be in office, door open, so you can hear me. Okay?"

"You will not go?"

"No. If scared again, shout my name. Not V. My name. Veer. Shout Veer, I will come."

She nodded, lying down, blanket still around.

At the door, he stopped. "Myra?"

"Hmm?"

"Your anklet... no sound when you ran to hug. Good. Less noise. My plan worked."

She smiled in blanket. "Your plan always works, Major Sahib."

He went downstairs, changed vest, wore dry grey t-shirt, sat in office, door open, listening to small sounds from upstairs — her moving, blanket, faint anklet.

Rain continued whole night, heavy.

At 1:15 AM, Myra came downstairs quietly, blanket around, torch off because inverter light enough.

Veer was awake, reading file, looked up.

"Scared again?"

"No," she said, standing at office door, not entering because Rule Four — no entering his office without permission. "I could not sleep... can I sit here? Till I sleep? Your office has less tree sound."

He looked at her — blanket, sleepy eyes, standing at his door at 1:15 AM asking permission.

He moved a chair near his table.

"Sit. But no talking. I have report."

She sat, feet up on chair, anklet visible, watching him write, pen moving fast, army handwriting.

In twelve minutes, she slept on chair, head tilted, mouth slightly open, blanket falling.

Veer stopped writing, looked at her sleeping in his office chair at 1:27 AM.

He stood, took his own jacket, covered her, lifted her very carefully, like lifting a small kid, and took her upstairs to her room. Put her on bed, covered with blanket, locked her room from inside, kept key on table, came down.

He went to balcony, rain still, lit a cigarette. Third time in a week.

His diary entry that night at 2:03 AM:

_Day 7. She called me when scared. I left patrol. Broke protocol first time in 4 years. Hugged me in wet t-shirt. Slept in my office chair. I carried her to bed. Rule Five is dead. I am dead._

Upstairs, Myra slept peacefully, silver anklet shining in inverter light, dreaming not of ghosts, but of Major who came in rain in nineteen minutes.