Sleep didn't come easily.
It hadn't for months.
Not for him.
Not when thoughts refused to quiet down—looping, repeating, reshaping themselves into heavier versions of the same questions.
Not when silence grew louder the moment he closed his eyes—pressing against his ears, forcing him to listen to everything he tried to avoid during the day.
The night offered no escape.
Only confrontation.
And Kabir was tired of both.
He shifted slightly against the train seat, eyes still open, staring at nothing in particular.
Outside, darkness rushed past in blurred streaks—occasionally broken by distant lights that flickered and vanished before he could focus on them.
Inside, the compartment was quieter now.
A few passengers slept.A few turned restlessly.Someone's phone screen dimmed and went black.
Life slowed.
But his mind didn't.
It never did.
Every unfinished conversation.Every silence that stretched too long.Every look Sunaina gave him that he couldn't quite understand—
They all returned.
Stronger.
Sharper.
Unforgiving.
He exhaled slowly, pressing his head back, eyes finally closing—not out of peace, but out of surrender.
Because exhaustion…
Exhaustion has a way of winning arguments the mind cannot.
The rhythmic motion of the train, the low mechanical hum beneath everything, the subtle vibrations running through his body—
It all began to pull him under.
Slowly.
Unavoidably.
Like gravity he could no longer resist.
At first—
There was nothing.
No sound.No movement.No memory.
Just a strange, weightless stillness.
As if he existed somewhere between being awake and being gone.
And then—
It changed.
The train was gone.
The noise disappeared.
The tension dissolved like it had never existed.
Kabir stood by a riverside.
The transition was so seamless it didn't feel like waking into a dream—
It felt like stepping into something that had always been there.
Waiting.
The air was calm.
A soft wind brushed past him, cool and gentle, carrying the faint scent of water and damp earth.
It grounded him instantly.
The sky above stretched endlessly—painted in shades of gold melting into pale blue, frozen in a moment that didn't belong to any specific time.
Not morning.
Not evening.
Just… still.
Peaceful.
Too peaceful.
The kind of peace that made you aware of how chaotic everything else had been.
Kabir looked around slowly.
There was no one else.
No distant voices.
No movement except the quiet flow of the river beside him.
And yet—
He knew this place.
Or at least…
It felt familiar.
Like a memory that existed just out of reach.
Like something he had once known deeply but had forgotten over time.
His chest tightened slightly.
Because familiarity without clarity—
was unsettling.
Then—
he saw her.
Standing just a few steps away.
Facing the river.
Still.
Unmoving.
Sunaina.
For a moment, he didn't call out.
Didn't move.
He simply watched.
As if even the smallest interruption might break the moment.
As if she might disappear if he acknowledged her presence too quickly.
Then—
she turned.
And smiled.
It wasn't the polite smile Kabir had grown used to.
Not the distant, careful expression she wore in everyday life—measured, controlled, guarded.
This was different.
This was—
real.
Warm.
Effortless.
The kind of smile that didn't ask for permission to exist.
The kind that reached her eyes and stayed there.
For a moment—
Kabir forgot how to breathe.
Because this—
This wasn't her.
Or at least—
not the version of her he had learned to live with.
Not the version that stood a step away even when she was right beside him.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Sunaina asked, tilting her head slightly.
Her voice was light.
Unburdened.
There was no hesitation in it.
No invisible distance.
Just ease.
Kabir blinked, as if trying to hold onto the moment before it slipped away.
"Like what?" he asked, though he already knew.
"Like I'm going to disappear."
The words were said casually.
But they didn't feel casual.
Something tightened sharply in his chest.
Because even here—
Even in a place this calm—
That fear followed him.
He forced a small smile.
"Maybe I'm just making sure you don't."
For a second, she studied him.
Then—
Sunaina laughed softly.
The sound was light.
Unfiltered.
Unfamiliar.
And it hit him harder than anything else.
Because he couldn't remember the last time he had heard her laugh like that—
with him.
Not around others.
Not out of politeness.
But with him.
She stepped closer.
No hesitation.
No invisible wall holding her back.
Just a simple, natural movement—
as if the distance that existed in reality had never existed at all.
"Stop overthinking," she said, nudging him gently.
The touch was brief.
But real.
Warm.
Grounding.
And before he could react—
Sunaina held his hand.
Just like that.
No resistance.
No pause.
No second thoughts.
His breath caught instantly.
Because even in a dream—
his mind knew.
This wasn't how things were.
This wasn't what reality allowed.
Still—
Kabir didn't pull away.
He couldn't.
Didn't want to.
His fingers instinctively tightened around hers, as if afraid she might slip away the moment he loosened his grip.
"I wish…" he began.
The words came without permission—
but stopped halfway.
Sunaina looked at him, curious.
"What?"
He hesitated.
Because saying it out loud—
even here—
felt dangerous.
Like turning a thought into something real.
Something that could be taken away.
He shook his head.
"Nothing."
But it wasn't nothing.
It was everything he had been holding back.
The wind picked up slightly, brushing strands of her hair across her face.
For a brief second, it obscured her expression.
Without thinking—
Kabir reached out.
Slowly.
Carefully.
His fingers trembling just enough to betray him.
He tucked the strands behind her ear.
The movement was gentle.
Familiar.
Intimate in a way that words could never be.
Sunaina didn't move away.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't build the invisible wall he had grown used to hitting.
Instead—
she smiled.
Softly.
And something inside him—
something he had buried quietly over time—
shifted.
For the first time—
he allowed himself to believe it.
Just for a moment.
That maybe—
this version of her existed somewhere.
That maybe—
this wasn't entirely impossible.
Kabir stepped closer.
Slowly.
Carefully.
As if the world around them might shatter if he moved too fast.
Sunaina didn't step back.
Their faces were inches apart now.
Close enough to feel each other's breath.
Close enough to hear the subtle change in each other's breathing.
Close enough—
to blur the line between memory and longing.
Her eyes softened.
His heartbeat slowed—
then quickened again, louder, more present, echoing in his chest.
Time stretched.
The world narrowed.
Nothing existed beyond this moment.
And just as he leaned in—
A sound tore through everything.
Sharp.
Distant.
Violent.
Like reality forcing its way back in.
The wind stopped.
Abruptly.
The river stilled—unnaturally.
Her face—
blurred.
As if something had fractured.
As if the dream itself couldn't hold together anymore.
Kabir reached out instinctively—
but his hand passed through nothing.
The world around him cracked—
like glass under pressure.
Fragments of light.Fragments of sound.Fragments of something that almost felt real.
And then—
everything shattered.
And just like that—
The dream ended.