The Midnight Train

The train station was nearly empty at this hour, save for a few late-night travelers scattered across the platform. Claire pulled her coat tighter around her, her breath visible in the chilly air. The old clock overhead ticked closer to midnight.

She shifted her suitcase beside her, glancing at the dimly lit tracks. She had always liked train stations—places of transition, of movement. But tonight, she wasn’t sure if she was running toward something or away from it.

“Late night travel?”

Claire turned at the familiar voice, her heart skipping a beat.

Elliot.

He stood a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his coat, dark hair slightly tousled from the wind. His warm brown eyes held the same quiet intensity she remembered.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He took a step closer, his expression unreadable. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Claire swallowed hard, gripping the handle of her suitcase. “I have a train to catch.”

Elliot nodded, glancing at the departure board. “Boston.”

She hesitated before answering. “Yeah.”

A silence stretched between them, filled with unsaid words and old memories. It had been six months since she had last seen him—since she had walked away. She had told herself it was the right thing to do, that leaving meant she could finally move on. But standing here now, with Elliot looking at her like that, she wasn’t so sure.

“You never told me why,” he said suddenly.

Claire blinked. “Why what?”

“Why you left.” His voice was steady, but there was something raw underneath it. “You just packed up and disappeared.”

Her chest tightened. “Elliot, we were—” She stopped, shaking her head. “We were complicated.”

He let out a small, humorless laugh. “Complicated doesn’t mean impossible.”

She looked away. “I thought it would be easier.”

“Was it?” he asked softly.

Claire opened her mouth, then closed it. No. It hadn’t been easier. Not even close.

The station speaker crackled to life.

“Now boarding: Train 107 to Boston.”

Her fingers tightened around the suitcase handle. This was it. She had made her decision.

But why did it feel like a mistake?

Elliot sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Claire, if you really want to go, I won’t stop you. But if you’re leaving just because you’re scared—” He exhaled. “Then don’t.”

Her heart pounded. “Elliot…”

“Stay,” he said simply. “Just long enough to talk. If you still want to leave after that, I won’t say another word.”

Claire looked up at him, searching his face, looking for a sign that this wasn’t just another risk—another heartbreak waiting to happen.

But all she saw was him. The person who had always known her best.

The station speaker chimed again.

She took a breath. Then, slowly, she let go of her suitcase handle.

“Okay,” she whispered.

Elliot smiled.

And just like that, she knew she had made the right choice.