Chapter1.
The last seat by window.
Every day at 7:40 a.m., the same bus stopped at the same broken signpost.
And every day, Arjun took the last seat by the window.
He liked that seat because no one else did. The glass was slightly cracked, the wind always sneaked in, and the sun hit his eyes on turns. But from there he could see everything — the tea stall owner lighting his stove, the old woman feeding stray dogs, the school kids racing their shadows.
One Monday, someone was sitting there.
A girl.
She looked about his age, maybe sixteen. Hair tied messily, school uniform slightly faded. She was staring outside as if she had been sitting there forever.
Arjun hesitated.
"Uh… that's my seat."
She turned and smiled.
"Oh. I didn't know seats could belong to people."
He awkwardly laughed and sat beside her.
The next day she was there again.
And the next.
Soon it became normal — the two of them watching mornings together. They never exchanged phone numbers, never asked unnecessary questions. They only talked about what they saw.
"Why do pigeons always walk like they're late?" she asked once.
"Because they never learned to run," Arjun replied.
She laughed — a soft, brief sound, like a page turning.
One rainy morning, she wasn't there.
Nor the next day.
Nor the entire week.
Arjun finally asked the conductor,
"The girl who boards at the temple stop… where is she?"
The conductor frowned.
"Temple stop? No one's boarded from there in years. The road's closed after the accident."
"What accident?"
The conductor pointed outside as the bus slowed.
Beside the road stood a small rusted barrier and a faded photo tied to a pole — a schoolgirl smiling at the camera.
Arjun's heart froze.
It was her.
Date below the photo: Three years ago.
The bus moved again.
Arjun walked to the last seat and sat down slowly.
The cracked window let the wind in.
And for a moment — just a moment —
he heard a familiar voice beside him:
"Today the pigeons are early."
Arjun looked out and replied quietly,