Code name: Ishq

The morning sun filtered through the mess hall windows of the NSG training facility, casting geometric patterns across the polished floor. Major Mayank Kashyap sat with military precision at a corner table, his breakfast arranged with characteristic order—two pieces of toast, scrambled eggs, black coffee. Across from him, Dr. Aditya Kapoor attacked his meal with the enthusiasm of someone who'd grown accustomed to hospital cafeteria food and found military mess hall offerings surprisingly palatable.

"So," Aditya said, gesturing with his fork, "how's the NSG training treating you? Still making grown men cry with your tactical brilliance?"

Mayank's lips curved into the barest suggestion of a smile. "The training is comprehensive. Counter-terrorism protocols, VIP protection details, urban warfare scenarios." He paused, cutting his eggs with surgical precision. "The instructors are competent."

"High praise from Major Kashyap," Aditya grinned. "I remember when you described a colonel as 'adequate' and it was basically a love letter."

"The colonel had acceptable strategic thinking," Mayank replied, deadpan. "This is different. NSG requires different skill sets. Close protection, crowd control, psychological profiling of potential threats." He took a measured sip of coffee. "The transition from mountain warfare to urban environments requires adaptation."

Aditya studied his friend's face, noting the subtle signs of strain that would be invisible to casual observers. The slight tension around Mayank's eyes, the way his fingers drummed once—just once—against his coffee cup before stilling completely. Five months of separation had carved hollow spaces in the man's composure, visible only to those who knew where to look.

"And you're adapting well?" Aditya asked, his tone carefully neutral.

"Adaptation is a requirement, not a choice." Mayank's answer came with military crispness, but something flickered behind his storm-gray eyes. "The work is engaging. Challenging. It keeps the mind occupied."

The emphasis on 'occupied' didn't escape Aditya's notice. He'd learned, over the months of their friendship, to read the subtle languages Mayank spoke—the way silence could convey more than words, how the set of his shoulders revealed the weight he carried.

"I've settled well at the base hospital," Aditya offered, steering the conversation toward safer territory. "Different from AIIMS, obviously. More trauma cases, field medicine protocols. The military doctors are impressive—they work with efficiency I rarely saw in civilian hospitals."

"Military medicine requires different priorities," Mayank agreed. "Time is often the determining factor between life and death."

"True. Though I have to admit, I miss the chaos of AIIMS sometimes. The constant drama, the personalities..." Aditya trailed off, realizing he was venturing into territory that might lead to conversations neither of them was ready for.

Mayank nodded slowly. "Civilian hospitals have their own complexities. Politics, administrative challenges, interpersonal dynamics."

"Exactly. You never know what crisis will walk through the door next."

They ate in comfortable silence for several minutes, the morning bustle of the mess hall providing a backdrop of clinking cutlery and muted conversations. Mayank's phone buzzed twice—messages he glanced at and dismissed with military efficiency. Aditya's remained mercifully quiet until precisely 8:47 AM, when it erupted with a ringtone that seemed far too cheerful for the austere military environment.

The name on the screen made Mayank's fork pause halfway to his mouth. Just for a heartbeat, just long enough for something raw and unguarded to flash across his features before the mask of professional composure slammed back into place.