ENCHANTED - BY INNOCENCE (ongoing)

60

Here with a new chapter, enjoy! 

This chapter has 3400+ words and ends with a question so make sure you read till the end ❤️

Target for next chapter: 1400 votes and 750 comments

*** Chitappa aka Ramalingam aka Mayil's father ***

"Come in," I heard the general say after knocking on his door. I walked in, my eyes immediately drifting to the wounds on his knuckles.

The general quickly slid his hand under the desk to hide his injuries and gestured for me to sit down.

"What is going on, Chitappa?" he asked, frustration evident in his voice.

"Regarding what, sir?" I asked, confused.

"I think you do know what sir," he said calmly despite his frustration. "The soldiers... I told them it was just a boxing injury, but they keep scheming and plotting to find out the real reason. Even you—the eldest among them—aren't stopping them. Worst of all, I can hear every single one of their ridiculous plots. I don't know what makes them think—"

"I think they want you to hear their schemes, sir," I interrupted, and he fell silent.

"They've seen you on the battlefield, swords piercing your skin... A little injury to your knuckles is the least of their concerns. What truly worries them is the lack of a smile on your face," I added. He immediately looked away as if remembering something painful, trying to conceal the emotion in his eyes.

"They're plotting and scheming, yes, partly to uncover the truth," I continued, "but mostly to get your attention—to let you know that they care."

He looked back at me, his expression softening as if my words had melted away his defenses.

"I appreciate that, Chitappa," he said sincerely. "I really do... but..." He hesitated. "Something happened recently—something that fundamentally changed the way I see the world, the way I see myself. I don't know if..." His voice broke slightly. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to undo that."

"Sir, five years ago, a 40-year-old man joined the army because a young officer inspired him to chase his dreams," I said, referring to myself and him. "If your mere words could change a man's life, imagine the strength that lies within you. You can emerge victorious from whatever you're facing."

"I don't think so, Chitappa," he sighed.

"Then perhaps, sir, for the first time in your life—you are wrong," I replied with quiet confidence. He looked at me, surprised yet impressed, before giving me a faint smile.

At that moment, a knock sounded at the door.

"Come in," the general said.

Pritham walked in, carrying a few files.

"Just here to submit a couple of things, sir," he said, placing a paper on the table. "This one is a doodle made by Vivek. You might want to file it in the records."

"Kid's an artist," the general said with a small smile, his first genuine smile since yesterday.

"May I see, sir?" I asked, and he passed me the paper.

At first, I found it adorable. But my expression quickly changed when I noticed a particular sketch—two people sitting at a table, a man resembling Pritham and a woman who unmistakably resembled my daughter.

"Is this drawing inspired by something, Pritham?" I asked carefully.

"Kid draws what he sees, sir," he replied casually. "Mayil and I were discussing the Mukunda committee when he made it."