Shadows Of The Stumps

We All Made It - Part 2

The door clicked shut behind Maithili.

Jeet had been the last one to leave, throwing one final mock salute toward Meera before disappearing down the hallway. Their voices echoed faintly and then faded, replaced by a silence that felt both heavier and lighter at once.

The room was still now.

Just the three of them.

The Colonel sat in the chair beside Meera's bed again. Arjun stood by the window, arms folded, his white shirt still a little crumpled from sleep, eyes tracking the mountains in the distance — the same mountains that had swallowed his sister for nearly seventy-two hours.

Meera lay against her pillows, the cast on her leg propped gently, an IV still running beside her. The adrenaline was long gone. Her face was pale, drawn, but her eyes were clear.

No longer the soldier holding a pistol with shaking fingers.

Just a daughter. Just a sister.

The Colonel looked at both of them.

He didn't say anything at first. His gaze lingered on Meera's bruises, the stitch near her temple, the faint tremble in her fingers every time she moved.

And then — softly — he broke the silence.

"You know... when your mother passed, I thought I had nothing left to lose."

Meera's eyes flicked to him.

Arjun turned slightly, eyes narrowing.

"But then I saw Arjun walk into my office three years ago, commission letter in his hand, and I realised— I'd been wrong. The same happened with Ayan and Arya." His voice caught. "And when you picked up a gun, Meera, I realised I'd be wrong again. Again and again. Because I still had everything to lose."

Neither of them spoke.

He looked at them both — two uniformed silhouettes who had walked through hell and come back with scars no father should have to witness on his children.

"I almost lost both of you," he whispered.

"And I would've survived, maybe. But I wouldn't have been alive."

Meera's throat tightened. She reached out, slow and stiff from the cast and the IVs, and placed her hand gently on his.

"I'm sorry."

The Colonel shook his head fiercely. "No. Never apologise for surviving. For fighting. For being better soldiers than I ever was."

Arjun walked over now, standing behind the Colonel's chair, his hand resting briefly on his father's shoulder.

"I didn't come here as a soldier, Dad," he said quietly. "Not for this one. Not for her."

The Colonel nodded once, already knowing.

"I know. That's why I didn't stop you."

The room held silence again — but now it was softer. Wounds were still fresh, but the war had paused. In this small cocoon of shared grief and resilience, time slowed.

Meera looked up at both of them, a small tired smile curling on her lips.

"Are we all going to pretend we aren't the messiest family to ever wear medals?"

Arjun laughed under his breath. "Speak for yourself. I still look great."

"You smell like antiseptic and regret," Meera shot back.

The Colonel exhaled a long breath through his nose and stood.

"Alright, alright," he said, brushing his palms together. "You two keep insulting each other. I'll go speak to the transport team. You'll both be going home. Together."