The announcement echoed through the station.
"Train to Mumbai arriving on platform number three."
Meher held her ticket tightly.
Six months.
Six months away from the city that held every memory of them.
Aarav stood beside her, unusually quiet. Not because he was upset. But because he was trying to memorize everything — the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when nervous… the way she avoided eye contact when she didn't want to cry.
"You don't have to stay till the train comes," Meher said softly.
"I know," he replied. "But I want to."
The platform was crowded. People moving. Luggage rolling. Goodbyes happening everywhere.
But for them, time felt slower.
"I'm scared," Meher admitted.
"Of Mumbai?" he asked.
"Of changing."
Aarav looked at her carefully.
"Change doesn't erase who you are," he said. "It just adds chapters."
She smiled faintly.
"You and your chapter analogies."
He shrugged. "You're the writer. I'm just trying to keep up."
The train horn blew in the distance.
Her chest tightened.
This was real.
"I don't want us to become strangers again," she whispered.
Aarav stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"We won't. Not because it'll be easy. But because this time, we're choosing it."
That word.
Choosing.
Not forced.
Not misunderstood.
Not dramatic.
Just chosen.
The train slowly entered the platform.
People started boarding.
Meher turned to him one last time.
"What if distance makes us different?"
He smiled — not bravely, but honestly.
"Then we'll meet again as different people… and fall in love again."
Her eyes filled.
She hugged him tightly.
Not desperate.
Not afraid.
Just holding on to something real.
When she finally stepped into the train, Aarav didn't run after it like in movies.
He just stood there.
Watching.
Trusting.
The train began to move.
Meher stood near the door, looking back at him.
He didn't wave dramatically.
He just placed his hand over his heart.
She did the same.
And as the city slowly blurred behind her, Meher realized something—
The seventeenth used to bring storms.
But today wasn't the seventeenth.
Today was the twenty-second.
And sometimes…
Healing doesn't arrive with rain.
It arrives with courage.