Everything feels perfect before marriage, laughter, latenight talks, endless hangouts, but some moments can never be recreated. They can only be felt, like a soft echo in the heart.
We were a group of four friends, bound together since school days. Our bond had been effortless, stitched with secrets, mischief and unspoken understanding. But nothing lasts forever. One by one, three of them got married and slowly our paths began to drift apart.
The early days after their marriages were still wonderful. We went on trips, laughed over dinners and I tagged along with my camera, capturing their happiness, half a friend, half a photographer. But I could feel the change, quiet at first, like a shadow at the edge of light.
Soon, everything began to fall apart. From daily hangouts, we shifted to weekend catchups, then to meeting only at functions and sometimes, even those were missed. I tried bringing them together, but time was never on our side. A friend who once fought to stay out late now rushed home before eight. Things were not the same anymore. Our rough jokes turned into polite small talk. Their conversations circled around schools and toys, while I sat quietly, listening, smiling, yet feeling the distance grow inside me.
The three of them often told me to get married, to “settle down” like they had. But I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that. My life felt suspended somewhere between the past I missed and the future i couldn’t yet imagine.
And then, in the blur of an ordinary morning, everything shifted, when I saw her. Inside a metro, on my way to the office, she stood across from me. In the blur of faces and noise, she was the only one I saw. I was awe struck, unable to take my eyes off her. She looked like someone I had once dreamt of and somehow forgotten, until that moment reminded me.
She wasn’t extraordinary in a flashy way. She was extraordinary in the way she carried herself, simple, graceful, untouched by the rush around her. A plain churidaar, an office ID swinging lightly around her neck, her hair falling across her shoulder. She wasn’t trying to be noticed, yet she made the whole compartment fade into the background.
She wasn’t beautiful in the way the world shouts about beauty. It wasn’t her clothes or the way her hair fell neatly on her shoulders. It was something quieter, the calm she carried in her eyes, the stillness that made the noise of the metro dissolve for me. She didn’t smile at me, she didn’t even notice me, but there was a warmth about her that reached me anyway.
I searched for words to describe her, but none felt enough. Maybe because beauty like hers isn’t meant to be described, it’s only meant to be felt. Or maybe, deep down, I knew I wasn’t qualified to measure it in words at all. Looking at her didn’t feel like noticing a stranger. It felt like remembering someone I had been waiting for, without even knowing it. Looking at her, I completely lost track of myself.
My stop was Indiranagar, but I found the train pulling into Byappanahalli, the last station. Two stops had slipped past me, unnoticed, while I was lost in her presence. The doors opened, people rushed out, and suddenly the compartment was almost empty. Reality struck, I was late for work and now I had to flip sides, catch another train back.
But something in me hesitated. I couldn’t explain. Should I get down and follow her, just to know who she was, where she was headed? Or should I let her go, and carry her as nothing more than a fleeting memory? The fear of never seeing her again pressed against me, heavy, almost unbearable. I stood there, undecided, caught between reason and a heartbeat that refused to listen.
But eventually, she slipped away into the crowd. One moment she was there, and the next, she was gone. I stood blank, frozen, realizing only fate could bring us together again. A part of me already knew I might never see her again. I tried hard to recall every detail about her, even what was written on her ID card, but my mind had gone empty, lost in the haze she left behind.
The day dragged from dawn to dusk, each hour carrying the quiet hope of catching her glance on my way back. But the evening train came and went, and she wasn’t there. Countless trains ran through the station, and I needed all the luck in the universe to find her again among them.
Still, one thought gave me a sliver of hope. If she was already inside the metro when I boarded from Mysore Road, then she must be getting in from the very first stop, RR Nagar. That became my only anchor, the single thread I held on to, the belief that if I kept taking the morning metro, someday, I would see her again.
The next day, with the same belief and little hope, I entered the metro station, convinced I might see her again. My steps quickened as I ran toward the platform, positioning myself in front of the last berth. Why the last berth? Because that’s where I had seen her the day before. The train approached, the shrill whistle of the security guard urging me to step back, but my heart was already leaning forward, desperate to step in. As the train slowed and the doors slid open, my soul searched for her before my eyes could. But she wasn’t there.
The compartment was nearly empty, giving me the chance to glance through each berth, searching, hoping. Every face I saw only deepened the hollowness inside me. She wasn’t there, nowhere in sight. I stepped outside the train, my mind restless. Was I too early? What time did I see her yesterday? Turns out, I was early, too early, and in a hurry.
I waited on the platform, pacing like a fool. The security guard’s eyes followed me, confused, maybe even amused, watching all my restless moves. Then another train arrived. I took a deep breath as the doors slid open. I stepped inside, and there she was. Sitting quietly, as if nothing had happened, as if she had no idea of the chaos she’d left behind in me. To her, it was just another morning train ride. To me, it was twenty-four hours of restlessness, a silence that refused to settle.
I believe in luck, but this felt like more than chance. A sureshot strike of fate. Still, I knew I couldn’t just leave it to destiny. This time, my eyes caught what I had missed before, her office ID card. The name shimmered back at me, “Anaahita”. That moment, I couldn’t help but smile, because “chasing Anaahita had already caused Anaahuta” within me.
But then a thought struck me like a stone, what if she’s already married? My eyes darted nervously. I checked her neck, no chain, no sign. I glanced at her feet, no toe ring. A small wave of relief washed over me. Single. Thank God.
I wanted to walk up to her, to say something, anything, but the words stayed locked inside. What if it’s too soon? What if I ruin it? Maybe I should wait. Yes, wait. There’s still time… So, I did the only thing I could, I watched her. Until fate decided to play its trick on me again. She looked up, and our eyes met. My heart skipped, my breath caught, and in panic, I turned my face away, pretending as if it was a casual look.
Moments later, when her eyes drifted elsewhere, my eyes found their way back to her. It became my little routine. Stolen glances, quiet prayers, and a heart that refused to calm down. Again, she looked at me. And again, I did the same thing, turned away, pretending indifference. But this time, I knew she had caught on. She understood what I was doing, yet chose to act as if nothing had happened. That calm, composed silence of hers shook me more than words ever could.
Then her stop arrived. She stood, collected, and walked out. I followed, not to chase but to hope, waiting for that one turn, that single glance back that might tell me she had noticed me too. But she never turned. Not even once.
So, with a tiny disappointment and an abundance of happiness, I crossed the platform, boarded the next train, and let the crowd carry me back toward my office, though a part of me stayed behind with her.
Days slipped by, the routine played on, silence stretched between us, but our eyes spoke across the rails. One day, I finally decided to break the silence that had chained me for so long. I had rehearsed it in my mind a hundred times, and that morning I rose early, determined. I slipped into a fresh shirt, dabbed on perfume, and even carried a single rose, my little token of courage. Everything seemed in place, yet there was a heaviness inside me, a strange unease. Maybe it was the cloudy sky, the absence of the sun, or simply the storm of emotions inside me. “Oh, Anaahita… What have you done!”
I entered the metro station and swiped my card, only to be greeted by an empty balance. Why today, of all days? but I quickly recharged it, refusing to let anything stop me. I stood waiting on the platform. The security guard gave me a knowing smile, perhaps amused by my restlessness. The train approached with a roar, but my heartbeat was louder, racing ahead of the engine. Words fail to capture what I felt in that moment, an ache, a longing, a restless trance. And then the doors slid open.
There she was. Right in front of me. For a moment, I froze. My courage crumbled, and I couldn’t bring myself to look into her eyes. But something inside urged me, and I gathered every ounce of strength to finally lift my gaze. Her eyes met mine. And in that instant, the world blurred. Her look held a thousand untold stories, bright, yet burdened with a quiet sadness. Something in those eyes touched me, a weight I couldn’t name, an ache that settled deep in my chest.
I stood blank, my thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind. What had hurt her? Who had hurt her? Was she alright? I couldn’t ask, but my heart screamed the questions in silence. All I could do was hold her look, praying silently for her, as though her pain had seeped into me. Time slipped past, but no words escaped me. The silence was overwhelming. Then the train slowed at the last stop. She rose, walked slowly toward the exit, and for the first time, turned back. Her face was filled with sadness, her eyes searching, almost pleading. I knew in that moment she wanted me to call out. She wanted me to take the first step. The crowd dissolved into shadows, It was just her eyes and mine.
The breeze stood still, the world felt frozen, as if nature itself waited for me to act. I vowed that nothing would stop me again. Tomorrow, I told myself, I would finally speak. But the next morning, when the doors opened, she wasn’t there. I searched every train, from her usual departure time until the last dim light of dusk, but she was nowhere to be found. The next day was no different, emptiness after emptiness, carriage after carriage passing before my eyes. With each passing day, the wound inside me only deepened, carving its ache deeper into my chest. Why hadn’t I spoken when she turned back? The question echoed without mercy, a pain I could not silence. My unspoken words grew heavier than stone, pressing down on me, until silence itself became the cruelest regret of my life.
Five days passed. Even the security guard noticed my restlessness. “Are you alright?” she asked. I smiled weakly, but inside, I was breaking. Hope was slipping through my fingers, and with it, the fragile dream I had built around her. On the sixth day, when all hope was gone, I dragged myself to the platform. And then, I saw her.
Relief struck me like finding shore after being lost at sea. There she was, draped in a simple saree, looking more breathtaking than ever. Yet her eyes still carried that same sadness. I knew this was it, my last chance. “Anaahita, here I come”. I stepped forward, my courage finally awake. Just a few steps and i could end this silence. She looked at me & suddenly something caught the light and glittered my eyes. A sacred chain resting on her neck, a symbol of someone else’s forever.
I froze, unable to move or think. It was as if a thousand swords pierced me at once. Still, I couldn’t look away. She looked back, and for a moment, time stopped. It was the longest eye contact of my life, and in her silence, I finally understood. She had been telling me all along. I had waited for the right time, but the right time had already passed. Now, it was truly gone.
In that stare, I saw everything I had ever wanted, and everything I had lost. The train reached its last stop, so had my story with her.