The bus always arrived before the day fully woke up.
Its seats smelled of dust and yesterday's rain. People climbed in with half-open eyes, holding bags, lunch boxes, and worries they never talked about. Everyone knew the route. Everyone knew the silence.
I took the same seat every morning....third row, by the window. Not because it was special, but because it helped me watch the world without being seen. Outside, shops slowly lifted their shutters. Inside, no one lifted their head.
Then the driver spoke.
"Good morning," he said, not loudly, not softly...just enough to be heard.
No one replied.
He didn't mind.
He adjusted the mirror, started the engine, and added, "Looks like the weather is in a good mood today."
A few people shifted in their seats. One man frowned. A woman hugged her bag closer. Silence returned, thicker than before.
The bus moved.
Traffic slowed us down, as it always did. Red lights. Long pauses. The kind of pauses that made impatience grow. But the driver stayed the same. Calm. Steady. Almost… light.
"Every delay saves us from something else," he said once, more to himself than to us.
I wondered who talked to him when no one answered. Maybe he had learned how to be comfortable with his own voice.
At the next stop, a student rushed in, breathing fast. The driver waited an extra second before closing the door.
"Take your time," he said. "You made it."
The boy nodded, surprised.
Somewhere between two turns, something shifted.
A woman near the front smiled at her phone. The man who had frowned earlier looked out of the window instead of at his watch. Someone sighed...not in frustration, but in relief.
The driver kept talking. Not stories. Just small things.
"There's a new tree growing near the old bridge."
"The tea stall on the corner opened early today."
"Mondays are heavy, but they pass too."
No advice. No lessons. Just observations.
By the time my stop came, the bus felt different. Not quieter. Warmer.
As I stood up, our eyes met in the mirror. I nodded. He smiled, like he had been waiting for that small acknowledgment all morning.
"Have a good day," he said.
And for the first time, I believed it.
When I stepped down, I realized nothing in my life had changed. Same work. Same worries. Same road ahead.
But something inside felt lighter.
The bus pulled away, carrying other people, other mornings, other silences it would slowly soften.
I stood there for a moment longer, thinking...
Maybe some people don't change the world.
Maybe they just make the journey easier.
The next morning, the bus didn't come on time.
And for the first time, I wondered what would happen if he wasn't there....
What will happen next ?