Chapter 7: The Apharwat Thaw

The path toward Strawberry Valley felt quieter than the rest of Gulmarg.
Snow had begun to soften under the faint afternoon sun, revealing patches of earth beneath—brown breaking through white, like something hidden slowly finding its way back. The air was still cold, but no longer sharp. It carried a strange calm.

The group had spread out again.
The children moved ahead, chasing each other along the narrow trail. Ananya followed them at a relaxed pace, occasionally calling out, her voice light against the open landscape.
Akash slowed down—not deliberately, but enough.

Depabali matched his pace.

For a while, they walked in silence.
Only the sound of their footsteps pressing into the soft snow filled the space between them.

“You didn’t answer properly yesterday,” she said.

Akash glanced at her. “Which part?”

“The name.”

He knew what she meant.
He had known since the moment she looked at his daughter in Betab Valley.

“Deepabali,” she said again, softly. “That’s not a common coincidence.”

The path curved slightly.
The others moved further ahead, their voices fading into the distance.

Akash exhaled slowly. “It’s just a name.”

⏳ Depabali stopped walking.

He took a few more steps before realizing—then turned.

She was looking at him now.
Directly. No softness. No distance.

“Don’t,” she said quietly. “Not with me.”

The words were calm—but firm.

Akash held her gaze.
For a moment, neither spoke.

“You remember everything,” she continued. “You remembered the name… after all these years.”

The wind moved lightly across the valley.
Snow shifted under their feet.

“It meant something once,” he said.

“Once?” she repeated.

He didn’t respond immediately.

The silence stretched—but this time, it demanded an answer.

“Did you love me?” she asked.

The question came without hesitation.
Without preparation.

It landed heavily.

Akash looked away—toward the distant slopes, toward anything that wasn’t her.

“That time was different,” he said finally.

“That’s not an answer.”

He closed his eyes briefly—as if searching for something that had always been there.

“Yes,” he said.

The word was quiet—but it didn’t break.

Depabali didn’t react immediately.
She just stood there—letting it settle.

“For how long?” she asked after a moment.

Akash let out a faint breath.
“I don’t know when it started.
But it didn’t end easily.”

The snow beneath them softened further, small drops of water forming where the sunlight touched.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” she asked.

He smiled faintly—not out of amusement, but memory.

“You never gave me a chance,” he said.

Depabali’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“I waited.”

“So did I.”

The words collided—quietly, but completely.

For a moment, both just stood there—two timelines meeting at a point that had come too late.

“You moved on,” she said.

“Yes.”

“And named your daughter after me.”

Akash didn’t deny it this time.

“It stayed,” he said simply.

The answer was enough.

Depabali looked away—toward the path ahead, toward the voices of the children growing louder again.

“Some things shouldn’t stay,” she said softly.

“But they do,” Akash replied.

The distance between them remained.
But something had changed.

The question was no longer unasked.
The answer was no longer hidden.

📣 From ahead, Ananya’s voice called out—
“Where are you both? Come fast!”

Depabali took a step forward.
Then another.

Akash followed.

The snow beneath their feet was no longer firm.
It had begun to melt.

Like something that had held its shape for too long.

And now—
Was slowly giving way.

❄️ To Be Continued…