Fog blanketed the platform so heavily it looked like the world was dissolving around you. The last train’s distant rumble echoed against the steel tracks, humming through your bones as you clutched your bag tighter. You wanted to disappear before anyone noticed—before he noticed. But Karma always noticed.

He emerged from the mist like a ghost given shape, his red hair muted by the haze, his eyes anything but. “So this is it?” he asked quietly, stopping a few steps away. “You’re just… going?” There was no anger in his voice, just something raw that tightened the air between you.

The train lights flashed through the fog, illuminating the tension carved into his expression. He closed the distance slowly, like he thought you might shatter if he moved too fast. “If you’re really leaving,” he murmured, voice closer to a confession than a question, “look at me first.” The mist curled around you both, waiting to see if you’d run—or stay.