The station was unusually crowded that evening, the air thick with the scent of coffee and the hum of hurried goodbyes. I clutched my ticket tightly, my fingers trembling as I stepped into the train. It had been years since I last traveled this route - years since I last saw him.

As I settled into my seat, my gaze wandered, and then, as if fate had played its cruelest trick, I saw him.

Seated right in front of me, looking out the window, was the man I had once loved beyond words. Time had changed him; there were faint lines near his eyes, a quiet maturity in the way he sat, but his presence still made my heart race like it used to.

And then I saw her.

A woman walked towards him, gently cradling a baby in her arms. Their baby. She smiled at him, and he smiled back, a kind of warmth I had once dreamed of receiving. I had imagined this scene before - but I was always the one in her place.

For a moment, time folded onto itself. I wanted to call his name, to reach out, to ask if he still remembered us, if he ever thought about the promises we never got to keep. But what right did I have?

Our love was like a train we had both missed, left waiting on a platform that no longer existed.

I turned my gaze away, swallowing the lump in my throat. Some stories don't get a second chance, some dreams remain just that - dreams.

The train whistled, and I let out a quiet sigh. I had my own journey to take, and so did he.

And so, with a heart both heavy and free, I let him go again.