The train groaned as it pulled away from the platform, metal wheels screeching against steel tracks before settling into a steady rhythm.
Platform lights blurred past the windows in long streaks of yellow and white. Vendors shouted last-minute calls for tea and water bottles. A child cried somewhere down the coach.
Kabir Rao sat quietly in his lower berth inside Coach B2.
One backpack.
One ticket.
One night's journey.
He preferred trains over flights. Trains gave him time to think. Time to observe.
And Kabir always observed.
Across from him, an elderly couple arranged their blankets. A college student plugged in earphones. Normal passengers. Normal night.
Until she entered.
The train had already begun moving when she rushed in from the connecting door, slightly breathless, clutching a dark backpack tightly against her chest.
Her eyes scanned the compartment quickly.
Not casually.
Carefully.
She checked her ticket, found her seat — directly opposite Kabir — and sat down without removing her bag.
Their eyes met briefly.
Her expression shifted almost immediately.
Alert. Guarded.
Kabir leaned back slightly, pretending not to stare, but he noticed everything.
Her fingers were trembling.
Not from cold.
From fear.
Two minutes later, the connecting door opened again.
Two men entered.
Plain clothes.
No luggage.
Sharp eyes.
They didn't look like passengers.
They scanned faces one by one.
When their gaze paused on the girl, it lingered a second too long.
Kabir saw her grip tighten around her bag strap.
The men walked further down the aisle and took seats near the exit of the coach.
Watching.
The train picked up speed, leaving the city lights behind. Darkness surrounded the windows now.
Kabir leaned forward slightly.
"You're being followed," he said quietly.
Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she replied.
"You haven't blinked since they walked in."
Silence.
The sound of wheels hitting the tracks filled the gap between them.
Finally, she leaned closer.
"My name is Aanya," she whispered. "And if something happens… you don't know me."
Kabir raised an eyebrow.
"That's not comforting."
She hesitated, then slowly unzipped her bag just enough for him to see inside.
A small metallic pen drive.
"That," she said softly, "is why they're here."
Kabir studied her face carefully.
"What's on it?"
"Truth."
"That's usually expensive."
"It already cost people their lives."
The lights flickered once.
Then again.
The train suddenly jerked slightly, slowing down.
Passengers looked around, confused.
"This isn't a station," someone muttered.
The train began to halt in the middle of nowhere.
No platform lights.
No buildings.
Just darkness outside.
The two men stood up immediately.
One of them spoke quietly into a small device near his collar.
Kabir's instincts activated instantly.
This was planned.
He stood slowly, stretching his shoulders as if preparing for nothing serious.
"You should've picked another coach," he told Aanya calmly.
Her voice shook slightly. "Why?"
"Because now they'll search this one first."
Footsteps approached down the aisle.
Other passengers sensed tension but didn't understand it.
Aanya's breathing grew heavier.
"Why are you helping me?" she asked quietly.
Kabir looked at the approaching men.
"I'm not," he said.
Then he stepped into the aisle, blocking the narrow pathway.
"I just don't like bullies."
The men stopped in front of him.
"Move," one of them ordered.
Kabir didn't.
Behind him, Aanya's heart pounded.
Outside, the wind howled against the metal body of the train.
And in the darkness between two unknown stations—
The real journey began.