KMA: EARLY MORNING

The sun had barely begun its ascent over the KMA campus, casting a warm golden glow on the morning mist. The air smelled of damp earth and freshly cut grass, the familiar scents mingling with the distant aroma of tea from the cadet mess. The rhythmic sound of two pairs of boots hitting the ground in perfect synchronization echoed through the jogging track-Major Rajveer Singh Shekhawat and Major Soham Agnihotri, running side by side.

This had become a quiet routine between them. It wasn't planned, nor was it ever discussed. Yet, most mornings found them here, jogging together, exchanging little more than nods and occasional banter.

Rajveer wasn't a man who trusted easily, but there was something about Soham. The man was quick, observant, and always had a way of knowing things without asking too many questions. He played his cards close to his chest, much like Rajveer himself. Over the weeks, an unspoken understanding had formed between them-Rajveer didn't give away his secrets, but he always listened when Soham had something to say.

And Soham never disappointed him with the results.

They had been jogging in comfortable silence for a while when Soham finally spoke, his voice low but casual.

"I heard you wanted war-time codes and old ciphers."

Rajveer didn't break his stride, keeping his focus straight ahead.

"Hmmm."

Soham smirked, easily matching Rajveer's pace. "I have a few. You'll find them in your office. Your room is far too much under scrutiny."

Rajveer let out a quiet chuckle. "I know. I feel like half of KMA has suddenly developed an interest in my daily schedule."

Soham laughed. "Can you blame them? You're the prodigal son, the golden boy, the man Gehlot himself took under his wing. People are bound to be curious about whether the legend still bows to his mentor or if he's finally breaking free."

Rajveer shot him a sidelong glance. "And what do you think?"

Soham smirked. "Oh, I don't think. I observe. And right now, I see a man who has already chosen his side but is playing his cards so close to his chest that even his own shadow might have doubts."

Rajveer chuckled again but didn't deny it.

Soham continued, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "And yet, here I am, jogging beside you every morning."

Rajveer arched a brow at him. "Which makes me wonder how you manage to stay so... unnoticed."

Soham grinned. "Simple. I've built my career making sure I always appear to be on the right side of power. Right now, you're the power everyone is watching. Sabko lagega mai makhhan mar raha hoon."

Rajveer couldn't help but laugh at that. "Soham, you are shit."

Soham placed a hand over his heart in mock offence. "That hurts, Shekhawat. Here I am, doing all the hard work, and this is the appreciation I get?"

Rajveer smirked. "Remind me to buy you a medal for your service."

Soham gave him a mock salute. "I'll hold you to that."

As they neared the end of their run, Soham slowed his pace slightly. His tone was lighter, but there was an underlying seriousness to his words. "Be careful, Raj. A lot of eyes are on you, and not all of them are friendly."

Rajveer met his gaze, reading between the lines. "I know."

Soham nodded, satisfied. Then, with a smirk, he jogged ahead.

"See you later, Major."

Rajveer watched him disappear into the distance, shaking his head with a quiet chuckle. Soham was an enigma, but one thing was clear-he was useful. And in this game, that was enough.

●●●---●●●

Jaipur, The Rathore Residence

The sun had just begun its descent, casting a golden hue over the sprawling gardens of Manohar Singh Rathore's ancestral home. The estate, nestled in the heart of Jaipur, was a testament to old-world charm-ornate stonework, sprawling verandas, and a garden that looked more like a carefully cultivated jungle of colors. Rows of marigolds lined the cobbled pathways, their vibrant orange and yellow petals swaying gently in the evening breeze. Bougainvillaea crept up the latticework, cascading in pinks and purples, while the scent of jasmine and mogra filled the air.

Manohar Rathore sat in his favourite spot-a stone bench beneath an ancient banyan tree whose gnarled roots curled into the earth like fingers of time itself. The tree had been here long before him, just as politics had been in his blood long before he entered the game. Now a semi-retiree, he found solace in his garden, where he could dig into the earth instead of political conspiracies. Here, he was not the seasoned politician feared by his rivals but a man who nurtured life with his own hands.

Across from him, his gardener, Ramu, worked silently, his hands deftly digging the soil with practised ease. To the world, Ramu was a simple man-an old servant who knew nothing beyond mud, dirt, and trees. But those who truly understood Rathore knew that Ramu was far more than a gardener. He was the old politician's most trusted contact, a master of disguise, and a man who had seen more secrets buried than flowers planted.

Today, however, their conversation was not about roses or the quality of Jaipur's soil. Today, Ramu brought news-news that had stirred Rathore's political instincts from their slumber.

"Captain Chauhan was speaking the truth, Sir," Ramu murmured, his voice low as he gently patted the soil around a newly planted sapling. "The intelligence wing is reopening the case of Captain Naveen Singh Ahluwalia."

Rathore paused, his fingers hovering over the pages of an old book on rare flora. He slowly looked up, his sharp, aged eyes studying Ramu's face.

"Captain Ahluwalia was a traitor," he said, though there was no conviction in his voice-only the weight of years of political narratives.

"Gehlot's machinations had him branded so," Ramu corrected. "He died under mysterious circumstances, and for years, his family has lived under that shadow."

Rathore exhaled deeply, his fingers rubbing his temple. "And?"

"Major Rajveer Singh Shekhawat and Captain Abhimanyu Chauhan are working to prove Captain Ahluwalia innocent. Which means exposing Gehlot ji."

At the mention of that name, Rathore let out a mirthless chuckle. "Gehlot is not an easy man to take down. He has spent decades building his empire."

"That's why Captain Chauhan came to you. They need a distraction-something to keep Gehlot busy while they work on decoding the evidence against him."

Rathore leaned back, his mind already weaving strategies. His entire career had been built on knowing which battles to fight, which to avoid, and which to let others fight for him. But before he could reply, something else piqued his interest.

"I thought Major Shekhawat was Gehlot's protégé."

Ramu scoffed, wiping his hands on a rag. "More like an adopted son. Just not on paper."

Rathore raised an eyebrow. "And you believe he'll turn against his benefactor?"

"There's no doubt about it, Sir."

Rathore considered that. "Idealism changes. Loyalty can be bought. Everything in this world has a price, Ramu."

Ramu paused mid-motion, glancing up at his employer. "And Shekhawat's loyalty has already been pledged-to Naveen Ahluwalia and his sister."

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of Rathore's lips. "He is engaged to her?"

Ramu chuckled. "Loves her. But never said so. Everyone knows, but no one speaks of it. She is still a cadet. But once she graduates..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "Ishq aur mushq chhupaye nahi chhupte, Sir."

Rathore let out a deep chuckle, amused by the gardener's poetic way of putting things. But then something nagged at him-a feeling of familiarity. "This man, Shekhawat... I feel like I've heard of him before."

Ramu looked at him carefully, as if weighing his words. "I thought you would say so."

"Why?"

"He is the same soldier who saved your son, Major Rathore, in Ladakh. Carried him to the army headquarters, got him treated, and submitted the proof of his innocence. Chhote Malik would have been another Ahluwalia had it not been for Major Shekhawat."

Rathore sat in stunned silence. His son-his flesh and blood-had been saved by the very man who was now risking everything to expose Gehlot. Fate had a strange way of tying knots where none had existed before.

The sun had dipped lower now, the evening air carrying a slight chill. Rathore looked over his garden, at the flowers blooming under the care of Ramu's hands. He had always believed in planting seeds that would bloom long after he was gone. But perhaps, it was time to help uproot some weeds first.

Without a word, he stood up and walked back towards his house, his mind already made up.

Gehlot had been in power for far too long. It was time for a storm.

●●●---●●●

The evening air was crisp, carrying the scent of jasmine and freshly watered earth through the sprawling gardens of the Rathore estate. Manohar Rathore sat in his private study, the dim glow of the antique brass lamp casting long shadows on the dark teakwood walls. A half-filled glass of whiskey rested on the side table, untouched. He had spent hours contemplating his next move, weighing every possibility.

Tonight was not about politics-it was about war.

Lala Gehlot was a dangerous man, one who operated from the shadows, eliminating threats before they could materialize. Rathore knew this well because he had played this game long before Gehlot even learned the rules. But now, the stakes were higher. The military, the government, and the reputation of honorable soldiers like Rajveer Singh Shekhawat and Naveen Ahluwalia were caught in the crossfire.

And war, as Rathore knew, was never won alone.

He reached for an old rotary phone hidden in a compartment within his desk. The number he dialed was one he had committed to memory years ago-a contingency he had prepared for an uncertain future. It rang twice before a familiar voice answered, calm and composed.

"Sir," the voice on the other end greeted him.

"It's time." Rathore's tone left no room for doubt.

A brief pause. "I understand. What are my directives?"

Rathore leaned forward, fingers steepled as he spoke. "Gehlot is making moves against the army. He's trying to suppress the truth about Naveen Ahluwalia's case and eliminate anyone who stands in his way. Major Rajveer Singh Shekhawat and Captain Abhimanyu Rai Chauhan are actively working to expose him."

A faint hum of understanding came from the other end. "And you want me to ensure their safety?"

"Yes, but more than that," Rathore said, tapping his fingers against the desk. "I need you to assist them without them knowing who you truly are. You're already stationed at KMA-use that to your advantage. Give them what they need, push them in the right direction, and most importantly, make sure Rajveer Singh Shekhawat doesn't end up a casualty in this war."

There was a soft chuckle from the other end. "A soldier like Shekhawat doesn't die easily, Sir."

"Don't underestimate Gehlot. He's already tried to trap Rajveer once, and he'll try again. This time, we make sure the trap is turned against him." Rathore's voice was edged with steel. "You know what to do."

"I do." A slight pause, then, "And if I need to make a move?"

Rathore smiled, a slow, knowing smile. "Then make it count."

With that, the line went dead. Rathore leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. The pieces were now in motion. His contact was already within KMA, close to Rajveer and Abhimanyu, positioned exactly where he needed to be.

Gehlot wouldn't see it coming.

And this time, when the dust settled, the truth would stand undefeated.

●●●---●●●

Lala Gehlot was not a man who feared the unknown. He had ruled the political and criminal landscape for decades, weaving alliances, silencing enemies, and ensuring his dominance remained unchallenged. His network ran deep-spies in the police, officers in the army, ministers in the government. There was nothing in this country's power corridors that he wasn't aware of.

And yet, for the past few weeks, a strange unease gnawed at him. It was nothing tangible, nothing he could point to, but he could feel it-like a shadow lurking just beyond his sight.

Sitting in his private study, a dimly lit room filled with antique furniture, heavy drapes, and the scent of expensive cigars, Gehlot swirled the amber liquid in his glass. His closest aide, Nand Kishore, sat across from him, his fingers playing with the rim of his empty tumbler. Nand Kishore was more than just a loyalist-he had been Gehlot's right-hand man for over twenty years, privy to every secret, every deal, every kill that had kept Gehlot in power.

Gehlot leaned back, his sharp gaze fixed on his aide.

"Kuch ajeeb ho raha hai, Nand." His voice was low, thoughtful.

Nand Kishore raised an eyebrow. "Kya matlab, Lala ji?"

Gehlot tapped a finger on his desk, his mind piecing together the fragments of his unease. "Har taraf apne log hain, lekin unke beech kuch naye chehre dikhne lage hain. Aise log jinke baare mein mujhe kuch nahi pata."

Nand Kishore frowned. "Sarkar ke log toh naye purane badalte hi rehte hain. Intelligence agencies bhi apni nazar rakhti hain. Aapko lagta hai yeh kuch alag hai?"

Gehlot let out a dry chuckle. "Agar bas itna hi hota toh mujhe chinta nahi hoti. Yeh jo naye log hain, inhe maine appoint nahi kiya. Na hi inhe apne dushmanon se joda ja sakta hai. Yeh log sirf dekh rahe hain, sun rahe hain, lekin jab unka hisaab lagane jao, toh bas ek bholi si muskurahat ke saath nikal jaate hain."

He picked up a file from his desk, flipping through the neatly typed pages. "Maine investigate karne ka socha. Lekin jaise hi unki asal pehchaan jaanne ki koshish ki, unhone aise baatein ki jaise woh sirf mere hi wafadar hain. Ek-ek baat makhhan jaisi chhati pe mal di."

Nand Kishore let out a snort. "Toh samasya kya hai, Lala ji? Aap pehle bhi nayi cheezein dekhe hain. Agar yeh sarkari log hain, toh aapko dar kis baat ka?"

Gehlot's grip on his glass tightened slightly. "Dar?" He let out a humorless chuckle. "Main sirf uss cheez se ghabrata hoon jo mujhe samajh nahi aati, Nand. Yeh log mujhe samajh nahi aa rahe hain."

Before Nand Kishore could respond, a knock sounded at the door. One of Gehlot's security men entered, his face carefully neutral.

"Lala ji, ek chhoti si dikkat ho gayi."

Gehlot raised an eyebrow. "Kya dikkat?"

The man hesitated for a second before speaking. "Aapke convoy ko saath ke ek police checkpost pe rok liya gaya tha. Routine checking bata rahe the, lekin aisa pehle kabhi nahi hua. Waqt zyada nahi liya, sirf naam likha aur jaane diya."

Gehlot's eyes darkened. "Naam likhne ka kya matlab?"

"Pata nahi, sir. Pehle kabhi nahi dekha yeh tareeka. Bas ek officer aaya, sabhi guards ke naam likhwa ke gaya."

Nand Kishore frowned. "Yehaan tak ki Gehlot ji ke convoy ko bhi record karne lage? Yeh toh naya hai."

Gehlot exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple. "Chhoti si baat lagti hai, par iska matlab bada ho sakta hai. Agar kisi agency ka kaam hota, toh chupke surveillance karti. Lekin agar khule aam record banaya ja raha hai, toh ya toh kisi ko signal diya ja raha hai... ya phir mujhe daraane ki koshish ki ja rahi hai."

He looked at the security man. "Woh officer kaun tha?"

The man shook his head. "Ek naya tha, sir. Naam bhi yaad nahi aa raha."

Gehlot waved him away, his mind already working at full speed. He turned back to Nand Kishore.

"Abhimanyu Chauhan aur Rajveer Shekhawat par nazar rakho. Yeh dono kuch toh kar rahe hain. Jo bhi ho raha hai, uska raasta inse hokar jaata hai."

Nand Kishore nodded, standing up. "Samajh gaya, Lala ji. Koi bhi naya aadmi jo aapke aas paas dikhe, uska pura pata lagwa ke bataunga."

As Nand Kishore left, Gehlot leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming on the wooden surface. He was Lala Gehlot-he had survived betrayals, assassinations, and political storms.

But this? This was different. It was quiet, creeping, something just out of reach.

And that, more than anything else, unsettled him.

●●●---●●●

Naina closed the thick, weathered book in her lap, the pages heavy with information she had barely absorbed. With a sigh, she leaned back against the cool, solid wall of her dorm room, letting her tired eyes drift shut. The weight of the upcoming exams and the looming passing-out parade hung over her like a storm cloud.

Four years at KMA-years of relentless training, discipline, friendships forged in the fire of adversity. And now, in just a few weeks, it would all be over. The academy, the routine, the camaraderie, everything she had built here, would soon be a memory.

But more than KMA, she would miss him. Major Rajveer Singh Shekhawat.

Her heart ached at the thought of him, at the distance that had stretched between them ever since Major Nair had been exposed as a traitor. There had been no arguments, no fallout-just an unspoken chasm that widened day by day.

She missed their easy conversations, the way he pushed her to be better, the way his gaze-calm yet intense-would hold hers just a second too long.

The only bright spot in the past few weeks had been that night by the lakeside, after the party.

She still remembered the way the moonlight reflected off the still water, the quiet hum of the night settling around them. They had spoken freely that night, no ranks, no barriers-just Rajveer and Naina. She had let her guard slip, and though she hadn't said it out loud, she knew he had seen the truth in her eyes.

Now, the silence between them was unbearable.

She wanted to talk to him.

No-she needed to talk to him.

The sudden thought made her sit up, her heart pounding. The old Naina would have ignored these feelings, buried them under layers of stubbornness and pride. But she wasn't that girl anymore.

She got up from the bed and grabbed her jacket. Maybe she wouldn't say everything-not yet-but she could at least find him. She could at least try.

With a deep breath, she stepped out of her dorm, heading toward the one person she wasn't ready to leave behind.

●●●---●●●

A/N:

Done!! Late as ever, guilty as charged.

Next update will be all about Naina and Rajveer because Naina pushed me away and wrote her scenes with Rajveer. And we all know how headstrong she can be.

Read, review and vote and Raina will see you soon in the next update.

Love ~Flavia