The Hidden Sacrifice (505 words)

“Usha, can you drop by today? It’s urgent,” said Divya’s mom.

“Sure, Aunty. Is something wrong? I haven’t spoken to Divya in days,” I replied.

“It’s about Divya. She’s not herself. She barely eats, isolates herself in her room, and hasn’t gone to work for three days. We’re worried. Can you visit around lunchtime, casually?” Aunty pleaded.

Divya and I had been close friends since school. Our paths diverged—me becoming a doctor, and she a management graduate—but we stayed in touch. I work with my husband at a military hospital. Divya had been in love with Vikas, an army officer, for over three years, and they planned to marry. He was transferred north about a year ago.

When I reached Divya’s place, her mom whispered that she was in her room upstairs and asked me to find out what was wrong discreetly. “Don’t worry, Aunty. I’ll find out.”

I knocked on Divya’s door gently. No response. Louder. Still nothing. “Usha here. Open up,” I shouted through the keyhole.

The door creaked open, revealing Divya’s swollen, red eyes. “Usha? What are you doing here? Did mom call you?”

“I called your office yesterday. They said you were on leave. I was passing by and thought I’d check on you,” I replied.

“Come in. Let me wash my face,” she said, disappearing into the bathroom.

When she returned, I asked, “Why were you crying? I heard you haven’t been to work for days and you’ve been isolating yourself. Are you in touch with Vikas? Don’t hide anything.”

She handed me a letter from Vikas, dated two weeks ago.

Dear Divya,

Brace yourself. I narrowly escaped death at the border. My friend Pandey saved me, sacrificing his life. His last wish was for me to care for his sister, who is now alone. She has no parents, no skills, and is dependent on him. Over the month I spent comforting her, she grew attached to me. Torn between you and her, I decided to honour my debt to Pandey by marrying her. I am sure, with your qualifications and charm, you’ll find someone else. Please forgive me.

Vikas

I hugged Divya. “I understand your pain. It’s a betrayal, no matter his reasons. You need to move on. Go back to work, visit me, meet new people, and have some fun.”

Two months later, I was temporarily posted at Chandigarh Military Hospital. On my second day, I recognized a name on a patient file: Vikas Kumar. The chief nurse told me he was an army officer severely injured, losing both legs and with one arm badly hurt.

I went to his bed; he was sleeping. “How long has he been here?” I asked.

“Six months,” the nurse replied.

“Any visitors?”

“None. He dictated a letter a couple of months ago to a woman once, which I typed.”

Tears rose as I realised Vikas’s true love and sacrifice for Divya. His letter was merely a ploy to divert her mind away from him, handicapped as he was now.

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