When the Last Train Left Without Him

The train station was nearly empty, except for the soft hum of an old ceiling fan and the distant whistle of an approaching train. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of gold and crimson — a sight she would have loved.

Arham sat on the wooden bench, his fingers tightly gripping the worn-out leather diary in his hands. It was hers. It still carried her scent — faint, but enough to bring back every memory he had spent years trying to bury.

It had been three years since Zara left. Not just the city, but this world. And yet, today, Arham had returned to the same platform where they first met, because this was the only place he still felt close to her.

---

They had met on a rainy evening. Arham had been stranded at the station, frustrated at the delay of his train. She was sitting beside him, scribbling something in a small diary. Her hair was wet, drops of rain sliding down her cheeks. She looked like a scene from a poem.

"Do you always write in the rain?" he had asked.

She looked up, smiled softly, and replied, "No, but rain makes me feel things I can’t say out loud."

That was the first conversation — and it was enough. Within weeks, they were inseparable. The station became their meeting place, their world in the chaos of the city.

Zara was different. She wasn’t afraid of dreaming, even if the dreams were impossible. She would tell him about the book she wanted to publish, the places she wanted to see, the kind of love that should never be ordinary.

Arham, on the other hand, was practical. He worked in an office, lived in a rented apartment, and believed in plans, not dreams. But Zara… she made him believe in both.

---

Then came the night that changed everything.

She had called him to meet at the station. It was pouring heavily. He was late, caught up in work. When he finally arrived, she wasn’t there. His phone buzzed with a single message:

"If I leave tonight, will you come after me?"

He didn’t reply immediately — he was angry. Angry that she always wanted more than he could give. Angry that she tested him like this. By the time he called back, her phone was off.

He never saw her again.

The next day, he learned there had been an accident. Her taxi had collided with a truck on the highway. She was gone. Just like that.

---

Years later, he still carried her diary. He had never opened it until last week. The pages were full of half-written poems, little sketches of trains, sunsets, and stars. And one unfinished letter addressed to him:

"Arham, if you’re reading this, I hope it’s because you chose to come after me. If not… I hope you at least remember me, not for the goodbye we never had, but for the days when love was enough."

Today, he came back to the station to give her an answer — even if she couldn’t hear it.

"I’m sorry," he whispered into the wind. "I should have come after you. I should have chosen you every single time."

The approaching train roared into the platform, the sound almost drowning his words. He imagined her sitting by the window, smiling, waiting for him. He could almost see her hand pressed against the glass.

The doors closed. The train began to move, slowly at first, then faster, until it disappeared into the horizon.

And Arham sat there alone, with the diary in his lap, watching the tracks that no longer led to her.

love, heartbreak, emotional story, sad romance, life lessons, true love, short story, touching story, grief, relationships