The Last Train
The cold wind bit at Shyam's face as he hurried through the dimly lit streets of the city. The letter in his coat pocket felt heavier with every step, a reminder of the one person he had left behind: Raitha.
Years ago, Shyam and Raitha were inseparable. She had been his only solace in a life filled with chaos—a beacon of light in his otherwise lonely world. They met during school, both outcasts in their own way. Shyam was reserved, more comfortable with books than people, while Raitha had a sharp tongue that often scared others away. Together, they found a bond stronger than words, and it felt like nothing could ever pull them apart.
But life rarely plays fair.
Shyam had been offered a prestigious scholarship abroad, one he couldn't turn down. Raitha had encouraged him to go, though her voice wavered as she said it. "You have to, Shyam. You deserve this."
"I'll come back for you," he had promised. "I swear, Raitha."
But promises are fragile.
The scholarship turned into a demanding career, and years passed without a word. Shyam told himself he was building a life they could share, but deep down, he feared she'd moved on. Every draft of a letter he wrote to her remained unsent, crumpled in frustration. He couldn't face the possibility that she no longer cared.
Now, after nine years of silence, a single letter had shattered his carefully built world.
Shyam had found it in his mailbox, unassuming yet unmistakably hers.
"Shyam,
This is my last letter to you. I don't know if you'll read it, but I couldn't leave without trying. If you still care, come find me before the last train. If not, I'll understand.
Raitha."
The last train. Shyam didn't need to guess what she meant. He knew the station where they'd always talked about running away together as kids. The memory hit him like a wave, and he quickened his pace.
The station was quieter than he remembered, the faint hum of the city muted under the evening sky. He scanned the platform, his heart hammering in his chest.
And then he saw her.
Raitha stood at the far end, a small suitcase by her side. Her hair was shorter now, and there was a tiredness in her eyes that hadn't been there before. Yet she was still Raitha—his Raitha.
He called her name, and she turned. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the weight of the years hanging in the air between them. Then she smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"You came," she said softly.
"I'm sorry," Shyam blurted out, his voice breaking. "I should have written, I should have called—I didn't know how to—"
Raitha held up a hand, silencing him. "It doesn't matter now."
"It does," he insisted, stepping closer. "I promised I'd come back, and I failed you. But I'm here now. Tell me I'm not too late."
Raitha looked away, her fingers gripping the handle of her suitcase. "Shyam, I waited. For years, I waited. But people change. I… I don't know if we're the same anymore."
Shyam's chest tightened. "We can try, Raitha. Whatever it takes, I'll make it right. Just don't leave."
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she looked at him. "Do you know what it's like to love someone who's not there? To hold onto memories while the world moves on? I wanted to hate you, Shyam. I really did. But I couldn't."
He reached for her hand, his voice trembling. "Then don't let go now. I'll stay, Raitha. I'll stay as long as it takes."
The whistle of the train cut through the air, and Raitha glanced at it, hesitation written all over her face.
"I don't know if I can trust you again," she whispered.
Shyam took a deep breath, his heart racing. "Then I'll earn it. Day by day, moment by moment. But I can't do it if you leave."
The train doors opened, and passengers began boarding. Raitha stood frozen, torn between the life she'd built in his absence and the love she still felt for him.
Finally, she looked at him, her voice barely audible. "If you mean it, Shyam, prove it. Meet me tomorrow at the café where we used to go after school."
"Raitha—"
"No," she interrupted, shaking her head. "If you're serious, you'll be there. If not… this is goodbye."
Before he could respond, she stepped onto the train, the doors sliding shut behind her. Shyam stood there, the platform emptying around him as the train pulled away.
---
The next morning, Shyam arrived at the café before it even opened. He sat at their old table, his heart pounding with a mix of hope and fear. Minutes felt like hours as he waited, every sound making him flinch.
Finally, the door creaked open, and there she was.
Raitha stepped inside, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on him. Slowly, she walked over, her expression unreadable.
"You're here," she said softly, pulling out a chair.
"I'm here," Shyam replied, his voice steady.
For the first time in years, they sat together, their walls slowly breaking down. They talked, they laughed, they cried. And as the sun set outside, Raitha reached across the table, her fingers brushing against his.
"I don't know if this will work," she admitted.
Shyam smiled, his grip tightening around her hand. "Then we'll figure it out together."
---
That day marked a new beginning for Shyam and Raitha—a chance to rebuild what they thought they'd lost. It wasn't easy, but love rarely is. And in the end, they found that the strongest bonds aren't broken by time or distance.
They're simply waiting to be mended.