The rhythmic chugging of the train filled the night air as Ananya settled into her seat by the window. The train was bound for Mumbai, a long sixteen-hour journey from Kolkata. She loved train journeys—the hum of movement, the stories woven by strangers, the endless landscapes that unraveled like poetry outside the window.
Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice the young man taking the seat across from her until he spoke.
"You seem to enjoy looking out more than looking around."
Startled, Ananya turned and met his gaze. He had deep brown eyes, curious yet calm. His slightly disheveled hair and a book resting on his lap gave him a scholarly air.
"It's peaceful," she replied. "Unlike the chaos inside."
He chuckled. "That’s one way to put it. But I’d argue the chaos inside is just as interesting."
Ananya smiled. "And you are?"
"Rudra," he said, extending his hand.
"Ananya."
They shook hands, and just like that, an invisible thread seemed to tie them together.
The conversation started light, about books and travel. Rudra was an economist, she was a journalist. They found common ground in their love for knowledge, for the thrill of chasing stories and unraveling the layers of human existence.
As the train rumbled on, their discussion ventured into geopolitics, the shifting power dynamics of the world, and the economic disparities they both had witnessed in their work. He challenged her views; she countered his arguments with passion. It was engaging, electric, and filled with moments of flirtation hidden beneath intellectual duels.
"So, Miss Journalist, have you ever fallen in love with someone you interviewed?" he asked, tilting his head playfully.
Ananya smirked. "No, but if I had, I wouldn’t tell you."
Rudra grinned. "That’s fair."
"What about you? Ever fallen for numbers instead of a person?" she teased.
"Numbers are predictable. People aren’t. And unpredictability is thrilling."
The way he said it sent a shiver down her spine. His gaze lingered a moment longer before shifting away.
They talked about heartbreaks and love, about what made them feel alive. The night wore on, and their words wove an intimacy neither had expected. The dim lights of the train added a glow to their faces, making everything feel surreal. The gentle swaying of the train, the hushed conversations of other passengers, and the occasional whistle in the distance created a dreamlike atmosphere.
At some point, Ananya leaned back against her seat, drowsy but unwilling to let go of this unexpected connection. Rudra smiled at her and said, "Get some sleep."
She nodded, closing her eyes, still aware of his presence. Just before she drifted off, she heard him whisper, "Meeting you was the best part of this journey."
When Ananya woke up, the first thing she did was look across the seat. But it was empty. Her heart thudded as she glanced around.
Rudra was gone.
Panic rose in her chest. She stood up, scanning the compartment. His bag was missing. Had she dreamed the whole thing?
She hurried down the aisle, peering into the other compartments, checking the washrooms, asking the train attendant.
"The young man? He got off at the last station."
Ananya froze. The last station had been an hour ago.
She sat back down, her heart sinking. He had left without saying goodbye. Without leaving a number. Without a way to find him again.
The silence around her suddenly felt heavy. She had spent sixteen hours talking to a stranger who had felt like someone she had known forever, only to lose him before the sun even rose.
She stared at the window, her reflection staring back, and all she could think was: Will I ever meet him again?
The train kept moving, but for the first time in her life, Ananya wished it had stopped.
Ananya started looking outside via window with deep silence and so many unanswered questions.
