Weeks passed.
Riyan graduated early, took a job offer abroad. Life was moving — quick, certain, unpausing.
Anaya came to the metro one last time, hoping — without knowing what she was hoping for.
She stood by the platform edge, where she had often seen him.
And then… there he was.
One last meeting.
One last chance.
Her eyes searched his, anxious but unsure. His heart screamed, but his lips remained still. They stood a breath apart, hearts pounding, words trapped.
He said, "I wish we had met… properly."
She whispered, "We almost did."
And the train arrived.
He stepped in. She stayed.
Too close. Too far. Like January and December. A heartbeat apart in the calendar — yet never meant to be side by side.