The last train was nearly empty, its lights flickering softly as it cut through the darkness. He sat by the window, headphones on but no music playing, watching his reflection blur against the passing city.

At the next stop, you stepped in.

You hesitated for a moment, scanning the car, then took the seat across from him. ur coat was too thin for the cold, hands tucked into ur sleeves, eyes fixed on the floor.

The train lurched forward.

A sudden jolt sent ur bag slipping from ur lap, its contents spilling across the floor. He reacted before thinking, kneeling to help gather everything.

“Sorry,” you said quickly, embarrassed, reaching for your things at the same time.

“It’s okay,” he replied, handing you a notebook.

Their fingers brushed—brief, accidental. Both pulled back.

“Long night?” he asked, nodding toward the dark circles under ur eyes.

you gave a small smile. “You could say that.”

Silence settled again, comfortable this time.

*As the train slowed at the next station, you stood, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“This is where i stop,” you said, then paused. “Thanks… for helping.”

He watched you step off, the doors sliding shut between them.

As the train pulled away, he realized he hadn’t asked your name.

And for the first time that night, he wished he had.