The Last Train Home

The last train of the night was almost empty. Maya sat by the window, lost in her thoughts, watching the blurred city lights rush past. She pulled her coat tighter around her—winter in New York had a way of making you feel lonelier than you really were.

Then, he stepped in.

A tall man with dark hair and kind eyes. He looked around before settling into the seat across from her. There was something familiar about him.

Maya stole a glance. He was staring too.

A hesitant smile formed on his lips. “Maya?”

Her breath caught. “Ethan?”

Ten years. Ten long years since she had last seen him. Since he left for London, promising to write, to call—to come back.

He didn’t.

She had moved on. At least, she thought she had. But now, with him sitting there, the past came rushing back.

“I never stopped thinking about you,” Ethan whispered.

Maya swallowed hard. “Then why didn’t you come back?”

He looked down, guilt in his eyes. “I thought you deserved better. But when I saw you tonight, I knew… I was wrong.”

Silence hung between them, heavy with unspoken words. The train slowed down, her stop approaching.

Maya had two choices—walk away like he had once done or stay and see where the journey would take them.

The doors slid open.

She took a deep breath and looked into his eyes.

“Come with me.”

And this time, Ethan didn’t let go.