The train moved close as usual, with a heavy noise on its track and lound horn. It was already getting dark and soon the street lights will turn on. Chike was by the window, in his usual seat. For months now he had been taking this same train at this same time. Everything had become a part of some kind of daily routine. One thing was not the same him.
He first saw her on a Monday. She came running in just as the door was shutting, one bag swinging at her side, and clutching a book to her as though it were life. Her hair was loose around a tired face, but a kindly one
She was two sits away as she sat across the aisle. They didn’t speak. They didn’t even greet. But their eyes met now and then through the glass. When he looked, he sometimes caught her looking too. She never seemed upset. She just looked back quietly, like she noticed him as well.
The train was always noisy as road hawkers are shouting, people are talking, but the corner where he always sits is calm whenever she is close to him.
One Friday it rained before dusk. The train was colder than usual, windows fogging with mist. She came in shaking her umbrella. Her book slipped from her bag and landed by his feet.
Chike bent and picked it from the floor. When he returned it to her, their fingers brushed.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“No problem,” he said while his heart raced.
She gave a little smile and looked down. He lingered with the book a second before letting go of it. It was a novel he was familiar with, one of love in the time of war. He wanted to share that with her but kept quiet.
They didn’t talk again that night. Still, things felt different somehow.
The next week, he found courage.
“You like reading?” he asked as she sat down.
She looked surprised, then nodded. “Yes. I do.”
“What kind of stories?”
“Sometimes romance. Sometimes mysteries.” She smiled.
Chike gave a small laugh. “Romance stories can be dangerous.”
“Why?” she asked, holding his gaze.
“Maybe they make you believe in things that don’t exist.”
She thought for a moment and then said, “Or maybe they remind us of things we’re afraid to admit we want.”
Her words stayed with him the whole night.
Weeks slid by, and their conversational engagements grew in length, till there were times but not often when it was not solely the ‘weather’ and trains that called for coher-
ency, but riotous darkness, no form for miles around.
Her name was Amara. She worked at a law firm, often tired from long hours.
He was Chike, a graphic designer, struggling to find steady work.
Once she had a dream to become a writer but left it behind.
He confessed he had never been in love but pondered it often.
They laughed. They exchanged stories, songs, and books; that small space on the train didn’t feel so much the crowd’s any longer
One night, the train jolted, and Amara lost her balance. Chike caught her hand before she could fall.
For the first time, they held on. The train steadied, but neither let go.
Her hand was cold from the air, but warm in his. She turned and looked at him. And said "I have always wanted to meet you".
Chike chest beat a little. He couldn’t speak. He only held her hand tighter.
After that, their bond grew. But then came silence.
One evening, she wasn’t there.
Chike stared at the empty seat. The train rattled as usual, but it felt hollow.
The next day, she was missing again.
By the third day, he feared he had only dreamed her.
The doors had almost closed on the fifth day when she ran in panting. She found him and gave a weary smile. Relief flooded through him.
“Where were you?” he said.
“My mother was sick. I stayed with her,” she said.
“It’s good that she’s better now.”
“Me too,” she whispered. Then added, “I missed this.”
His heart soared.
By now, they were more than strangers. But one fear stayed with him—what if the train was the only thing tying them together?
One night, he finally asked Amara. "At night do you think about us being together"
She starred at him for long without saying any word. The train hummed around them. Then she whispered, “Every day.”
His relief was like air filling his lungs.
“Then maybe we shouldn’t wait for the train anymore,” he said.
She frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”
“I mean… maybe I can see you outside this. Coffee, dinner… something real.”
She was quiet, then slowly nodded. “Yes. I’d like that.”
That night he could not sleep. He kept hearing her yes.
The train that once carried strangers now carried something more—two people who had found each other through glass and silence.
One Thursday, with the sun setting gold, they stepped off the train together for the first time.
The city was noisy and full of rushing people. But walking side by side, they felt calm.
Their hands brushed, then joined.
For Chike, time slowed. For Amara, the noise faded.
Love had found them in the simplest way through a train window.
And neither planned to let it go.
cover image was generated with AI
Awwwnnn I enjoyed reading this one. Good job here
Thank you 😊
I definitely must commend this...👏👏👏.
It felt so real.
This is indeed a memory worth keeping.
Thanks for sharing.
❤️💯❤️
Thanks
Welcome.
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STOPA love story about two people united by the power of destiny. They both recognized that coincidences don't exist, and their coincidence in the same place turned into the opportunity of a lifetime. I love knowing that they were both willing to defend that love.
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I have already read it before making my first post.