The beep of the vitals monitor was the only pulse in the room. It was a rhythmic, mechanical reminder that Vedika was still there, though she felt miles away. The high-ceilinged room in the Srinagar Military Hospital smelled of ozone and heavy-duty floor cleaner—a sharp, artificial scent that made the memories of the woodsmoke and pine in the valley feel like a fever dream.

Abhimanyu stood outside the heavy wooden door. He had been standing there for three hours. He wasn't in his combat gear; he wore his formal olive-green service uniform, but it looked as if it were hanging off a ghost. The "Tiger of Gurez" was gone. In his place was a man whose eyes were bloodshot from a week without sleep and whose hands, once steady enough to calibrate a long-range sniper scope, were trembling against the fabric of his trousers.