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AVYAKT SINGH [20y]

He is never one to fill the silence. He had grown too familiar with its company, too accustomed to the weight of unsaid things. Life hadn't given him the luxury of noise—not the comforting kind that comes from a house full of laughter, nor the gentle chaos of a family gathered at a dinner table. His world had been quiet for as long as he could remember, built on the soft voices of his grandparents and the echo of a childhood that knew absence more intimately than presence.

He didn't remember when he stopped seeking warmth and started building walls. Maybe it was when the reality of his parents' absence became less of a question and more of a fact. Or maybe it was simply life shaping him with quiet hands—firm but fair. Raised by his grandparents, he learned early on to rely on no one but himself. They gave him love, yes—but not the kind that sheltered. Theirs was a love of routine, of folded clothes and ironed manners, of early morning prayers and quiet resilience.

By the time he stepped into the National Defence Academy, he was already older than most boys his age—not in years, but in the way he moved, the way he looked at the world. He didn't seek attention, didn't speak unless there was something worth saying. His instructors saw him as dependable, unwavering, sharp. But there was a spark missing behind those focused eyes, something that had been extinguished long before he learned to march.

He often told himself that life was less about chasing every fleeting feeling and more about mastering the art of steady endurance. Loss, pain, uncertainty—they were constants, like shadows that followed him no matter where he went. He had long stopped trying to outrun them. Instead, he focused on what was within his grasp: the precision of his steps, the clarity of his thoughts, the discipline that shaped his days.

"Control what you can, accept what you cannot," He would silently repeat, a mantra that anchored him when the world felt too heavy. It wasn't resignation, but a choice—a refusal to be broken by forces beyond his reach. There was strength in this calm acceptance, even if it meant carrying scars in silence.

His life had taught him that peace wasn't found in trying to command the uncontrollable but in owning his responses, his actions, his purpose. And in that quiet control, he found a refuge—something steady and sure in a world that often felt unpredictable and harsh.

Now, standing at the edge of one chapter and the beginning of another—his NDA journey completed and the Indian Military Academy ahead—he felt that familiar tightening in his chest. The discipline that once gave him direction now felt like armor he couldn't take off. He was becoming what he had always wanted to be: an officer. A protector. A man forged by duty. But the cost of becoming this version of himself had been the quiet burial of softness, of ease, of belonging.

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EHSAAS KAUR [18y]

She is a girl of words, but more than that, she is a girl of worlds—the kind of person who looked at life not as a sequence of events, but as a book written by a higher hand. She often believed the universe was an endless manuscript, and all of them were merely characters destined to play their parts. In her eyes, some would get the luxury of a perfect, storybook ending, while others might face heartbreak, sorrow, and loss. But she carried within her an unshakeable faith—at the end of it all, no soul would be left truly unhappy. Because the story might close, but the journey never really ends; there's always another page waiting beyond the known.

Death, she often mused, was not something to fear—it was merely another chapter already written, inevitable, unavoidable. So why waste time fearing the last page when the current ones brimmed with life? She lives by a quiet philosophy—Enjoy the story while you can, underline the lessons, fold the pages that made you feel alive, and keep your heart open for the next adventure waiting beyond the last full stop.

Even in the hardest days of her life—her NEET preparation days—she didn't let the pressure suffocate her. Where others burned out, she found joy in the routine, a strange comfort in the simplicity of disciplined days. Waking up at dawn, sleeping on time, following the rhythm of study and rest without chaos—this wasn't punishment for her, it was a peaceful interlude, a chapter she cherished. Her world at home helped her balance the solitude, especially Nivaan, her younger brother, who was both her chaos and her calm. He had a way of annoying her to exhaustion, draining her with his antics until sleep claimed her before the clock even dared to whisper eleven. In his irritating presence, she found an anchor. In his childish mischief, she rediscovered the ease of letting go.

But the roots of her dream reached deeper into her childhood. She was only in the sixth grade when destiny quietly placed a seed in her heart. On an ordinary day, inside the cold, clinical walls of the Military Hospital, she witnessed something that altered the course of her life. A wounded officer sat stoic, strong, but broken in body, while a doctor treated him—not just any doctor, but one who wore both a white coat and the olive green uniform that shimmered with authority and silent bravery. In that uniform, Ehsaas didn't just see a doctor—she saw a protector, a healer, a warrior in their own right. The image rooted itself in her soul, quietly, fiercely.

From that day onward, the girl who loved books and art and words found a new dream to sketch—a dream of wearing that same uniform, of being that quiet strength for the broken, of holding both the stethoscope and the salute with equal pride. Becoming an Army doctor wasn't just a goal—it became a calling, a promise she made to the girl she once was in that hospital hallway.

Her journey began silently, but her heart carried the loudest kind of determination. She knew the path would not always be gentle, that the chapters ahead might demand more than she thought she could give. But she also knew she would never stop being the girl who believed in stories, in endings, and in the beauty of the journey itself.

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EHSAAS x AVYAKT

"Their hearts learned to speak a language beyond words, where understanding lived in pauses and trust was built in moments of stillness."

In a world ruled by duty and expectation, they found in each other a different kind of strength. She was the color to his grayscale; he was the anchor to her flight. Neither rushed the story—they knew some bonds take time to write, that some hearts beat slow before they sync.

Their journey was one of careful steps and guarded hopes, where enemies became companions, and companions, something more. Through shared glances and stolen moments, they learned that love wasn't always loud—it could be a quiet understanding, a steady presence, a slow-burning fire that warmed even the coldest nights.

In the end, they were more than cadet and officer, more than mischief and silence. They were two halves of a story still unfolding—each chapter richer because the other was there.

"Their love wasn't a sudden flame, but a quiet ember—growing warmer with every stolen glance, every unspoken word."

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DEDICATION

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