After the train rolled away from Bhopal Junction, night fully embraced the Tamil Nadu Express. The rhythmic clatter of wheels over the tracks became a lullaby in the dimly lit sleeper coach.
Rishi glanced at his phone—55% battery remaining. He switched off the charger, gently placed the phone in the trunk box beneath his berth, and stretched out to sleep, the fatigue of the journey finally catching up with him.
Hours passed quietly, the gentle sway of the train offering comfort and calm.
By morning, sunlight filtered through the windows as the train pulled into Balharshah Junction. The announcement echoed over the speakers, stirring sleepy passengers from their slumber.
Rishi stretched, rubbed his eyes, and stepped off the train to grab some breakfast. The vendors on the platform were busy serving hot chai and idlis wrapped in banana leaves. The aroma was irresistible. After a quick bite, he returned to the train, feeling recharged.
Back in the coach, Rajesh looked at Rishi and asked with a friendly smile, "Rishi, what kind of person are you? When you boarded the train, you were so silent and distant. Now you're part of the group — it's like you brought new energy."
Rishi chuckled softly. "Honestly, I don't have an answer for that."
Neeranjana added, "I felt the same. At first, you looked like someone carrying a heavy silence. But you changed — and changed us too."
Rishi didn't say much. He quietly got up and went to the restroom. Inside, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes welled up. The journey was revealing pieces of himself he had long buried. He washed his face, wiped away the emotion, and stepped out.
Seetha was waiting just outside.
As the train became more crowded, Rishi found himself stuck near the restroom. When Seetha came out, she saw him standing there.
"Why are you waiting here?" she asked.
"Too crowded," Rishi replied. "Can't move yet."
Then he looked at her curiously.
"You've been quiet... almost withdrawn. But when Narain mentioned the air hostess role for our little drama, you suddenly jumped in. That surprised me. What happened?"
There was a pause.
Then Seetha said softly, eyes not meeting his, "I used to be one. An air hostess. I worked until I was 35. I loved it — the skies, the movement, the freedom. I felt alive." She hesitated, then added, "But after I married Rajesh... things changed."
Rishi waited, listening.
"We had a love marriage," she said with a sad smile. "But after some time, we stopped... understanding each other. He never told me to quit outright, but there were expectations. I stepped back from work. Then from friends. Then from parts of myself."
She exhaled slowly. "We're going to Hyderabad... for our divorce."
Rishi blinked, taken aback.
"You don't look like someone ready to walk away," he said gently.
"I'm not," she admitted. "But it's like we speak different languages now. We love each other, but can't seem to live together anymore. I thought love was enough."
Rishi leaned back, thinking. Then he said, "You know... sometimes people fall out of rhythm, not love. You're not the same people you were when you married. And that's okay. But maybe instead of saying goodbye, you both just need to... reintroduce yourselves."
Seetha was quiet, eyes moist.
Later, while Rajesh stood alone near the door of the compartment, Rishi approached him.
"You okay?" Rishi asked.
Rajesh nodded vaguely. "Just thinking."
"About Hyderabad?"
Rajesh looked at him, surprised. "She told you?"
"She did. And I think you need to know... she still loves you. She's just tired of being misunderstood."
Rajesh swallowed. "We had a love marriage, you know? Everyone said we were perfect."
"Maybe you were," Rishi said. "But perfection isn't the goal. Understanding is. You two stopped talking about the things that matter."
Rajesh looked down. "Maybe we did."
"She's not asking for much, Rajesh. Just to be seen again. Heard."
A long silence followed.
As the train slowed at the next station, Seetha quietly stood up. She walked to Rajesh — and to everyone's surprise — hugged him tightly.
"What was that for?" Rajesh asked, voice cracking.
"For still being here," she whispered. "And for loving me, even when we didn't know how to live together."
Rajesh held her back. "We can learn. If you still want to try."
She nodded, eyes bright.
Rishi smiled softly from his seat. "So… what happens in Hyderabad?"
Rajesh looked at Seetha. She turned to Rishi and said, "We're not going."
Rajesh added, "We're going to Tirupati instead. Time to reset — properly."
Rishi chuckled. "A divine detour, huh?"
Seetha smiled. "Maybe this time, we'll start with prayers — and real conversations."
As they packed a few things from the trunk box, Seetha gently placed her hand on Rishi's.
"Thank you," she said. "For seeing what we almost lost."
"You didn't lose it," Rishi replied. "You just needed someone to hold up a mirror."
The train neared the next stop. They stood at the door, hand in hand.
"Take care, Rishi," Rajesh said.
"Take care of each other," Rishi replied.
As they stepped off the train, Rishi watched them disappear into the crowd, not as two people ending a story, but beginning a new one.
He turned back to his seat, the trunk box beside him — no longer just filled with clothes, but with memories, second chances, and the quiet magic of strangers who became something more.
The train rolled on.