Chapter 2: The First Breath

The road from Chandanwari to Betab Valley curved gently through the mountains, following the restless flow of the Lidder River.
Snow slowly gave way to patches of green, and the air felt lighter—less harsh, more alive.

Inside the car, silence sat beside Akash.
Ananya was talking to the driver about the next stops. Little Deepabali was busy looking out of the window, pointing at every stream, every patch of snow still clinging to the earth.
But Akash heard none of it clearly.
His mind was still at Chandanwari… at that moment… at that face.

🌊 “Baba, look! River!” his daughter’s voice broke through.
He forced a smile. “Hmm… yes.”
But his eyes weren’t on the river—they were somewhere behind.

🌄 Betab Valley opened like a painting.
A wide stretch of green, framed by tall pine trees and snow-dusted mountains. The river cut through it with a steady rhythm, its sound filling the valley with a quiet life.
Tourists walked around—some taking photos, some simply standing and absorbing the beauty.
Akash stepped out of the car. Took a breath. Deep. Cold. Real.

“Let’s go near the river!” Deepabali said, already pulling Ananya’s hand.
“Slowly!” Ananya laughed. “You’ll slip.”
They walked ahead. Akash followed—trying to bring himself back… to now.

⏳ And then—he saw her again.

Near the riverbank. Standing with the same calm stillness.
Depabali.

This time, she turned. And their eyes met.
No distance. No passing moment. Just recognition.

She looked at him for a second longer. Then her expression changed—slightly. Enough to say she remembered.

“Akash?”
The name came softly… but clearly.

He walked closer. “Yes…”
A pause. “Depabali.”

A faint smile appeared on her face. “I thought I was mistaken.”
“So did I.”

For a moment, both just stood there—taking in the reality. Ten years… reduced to a few seconds.

“You’re here…?” she asked.
“Family trip,” he replied. “You?”
“Same.”

👣 Before anything deeper could form, footsteps approached.

“Baba!”
Little Deepabali ran in, slightly out of breath. She stopped suddenly, looking at Depabali with curiosity.
“Who is she?”

Akash hesitated—but only briefly.
“My college friend.”

Ananya reached them just then. “Oh! So this is the friend from Chandanwari?” she said with a warm smile. “You didn’t even tell me properly!”
She extended her hand. “I’m Ananya.”

“Depabali,” she replied, shaking it gently.

A young girl walked up beside her—calm, observant.
“My daughter, Asha,” Depabali added.

“Hello,” Asha said politely.
Little Deepabali smiled instantly. “I’m Deepabali!”

⏳ The moment paused again.

Depabali looked at Akash—just for a second, but it was enough.

“Same name?” Ananya said playfully. “That’s rare!”
Akash smiled faintly. “Yes… just a coincidence.”

The children had already moved ahead, talking as if they had met long ago.
Ananya watched them. “They’ve already become friends.”

“Kids don’t take time,” Depabali said.
There was something in her voice—something deeper than the words.

🚶‍♂️ They began walking along the river—naturally, without planning, without deciding.

“So… what do you do now?” Ananya asked.
“WBCS,” Depabali replied. “Currently posted in Bankura.”
“That’s impressive!” Ananya said genuinely. “And you never told me you had such a brilliant friend!”

Akash smiled lightly. “We lost touch after college.”

“And you?” Depabali asked, looking at him now.
“School teacher,” he said. “Kolkata.”

“Still the same,” she said softly.

The group slowed near the river bend. The sound of flowing water filled the silence between them.

“We’re planning to cover Srinagar, Gulmarg, and a few more places,” Ananya said casually. “What about you?”
“Almost the same,” Depabali replied.

A brief pause. Then Ananya smiled.
“Then why don’t we plan together for the next few days? Easier for travel… and the kids will enjoy too.”

Akash looked at Depabali.

She didn’t answer immediately. She looked at Asha… then at little Deepabali—laughing together near the river.
Then back at him.

“Okay,” she said.

Simple. Calm. But not light.

Because something had already begun.

And this time—it wasn’t going to stay unspoken.

❄️ To Be Continued…