The Last Train Home

The clock struck 11:45 p.m. when Alina rushed into the train station, her scarf fluttering behind her. The last train was about to leave, and missing it meant being stranded all night. She ran through the crowd, her heart pounding—not just from the race, but from the message she’d received ten minutes ago.

"Meet me on the last train. I have something to say."

It was from Rayyan.

She hadn’t seen him in two years. Not since that night they promised to forget each other and move on with their separate lives.

But love has a way of circling back.

---

As the doors closed behind her, Alina scanned the nearly empty train car. There he was—sitting near the window, wearing the same brown jacket she used to tease him about. The one with a tear on the sleeve from their last hike together.

He looked up, and their eyes met. For a second, neither spoke. Time paused. The world outside blurred into streaks of city lights, but between them, everything became clear.

“Hi,” she finally said, breathless.

Rayyan smiled faintly. “You made it.”

“I almost didn’t,” she said, sitting across from him. “But I guess I still remember how to run for you.”

He chuckled softly, then grew quiet. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“I wasn’t sure either,” she admitted. “But your message… it felt like something unfinished.”

---

They sat in silence for a while, the train rumbling through tunnels, carrying them through the night and their memories.

Once, they were inseparable. Two dreamers who thought love could conquer everything. They had plans—travel, art, building a life together. But dreams clash with reality. He had to move abroad for work, and she couldn’t leave her ailing mother. Distance turned promises into pain, and they ended things before resentment could begin.

Or so they thought.

---

“I’ve thought about that night so many times,” Rayyan said quietly. “How we said goodbye like strangers.”

Alina looked down. “Maybe that was the only way we could do it.”

“Was it?” he asked, eyes soft. “Or were we just afraid?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she watched his reflection in the window—the same calm eyes that once held the whole world for her.

Rayyan reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I found this yesterday. I wrote it two years ago and never sent it.”

He handed it to her. She hesitated, then opened it carefully.

---

“Alina,

If you ever wonder whether I loved you, the answer is yes. I still do. I just didn’t know how to love you and let you go at the same time.”

---

Her eyes stung. The words blurred.

She looked at him, voice trembling. “Why show me this now?”

“Because,” he said, “I realized some goodbyes deserve a second chance.”

---

The train slowed as it passed through a quiet station. Only the sound of rain tapping against the windows filled the space.

Alina closed the letter. “Do you think people can really start again, Rayyan? After everything?”

He met her gaze. “I don’t know. But I’d rather try and fail than keep wondering what we lost.”

The sincerity in his voice broke something inside her. For years, she had carried the weight of what if —what if she had gone with him, what if love had been stronger than fear.

Now, he was right there, asking for another chance—not to erase the past, but to rewrite the ending.

---

As the train approached her stop, she stood up slowly. “This is me,” she whispered.

Rayyan nodded but didn’t move. His eyes said everything—Don’t go. Not again.

She hesitated at the door. The announcement echoed: “Next stop, Central Station.”

Then, before she could overthink, she turned around and sat back down beside him.

Rayyan blinked in surprise. “You missed your stop.”

Alina smiled through her tears. “Maybe I’m done running away from us.”

He laughed softly, relief flooding his face. “Then I guess this train’s heading home after all.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder, the rhythm of the train syncing with her heartbeat. Outside, the rain fell harder, washing away the past.

For the first time in years, silence between them didn’t mean goodbye—it meant peace.

The last train carried them forward, not just through the city, but into a new beginning—one where love didn’t have to be left behind.