Scene 1 – Durgapur Railway Station, Platform 3
4:47 PM, March 2025
The loudspeaker crackled like it was coughing its last breath.
"Train number 12341 Howrah–Durgapur Special… delayed by four hours… platform no. 3…"
Riya (17) sat on her blue school bag, knees pulled to her chest, staring at one single torn train ticket in her hand.
The ticket read:
Durgapur → Howrah
Date: 08.03.2025
Class: General
Status: RAC 47 → Confirmed (miracle at 3:42 AM)
She had fought three phone OTP wars, cried in front of the ticket counter uncle, and finally — finally — gotten it.
Her phone buzzed.
Maa. 14th missed call.
She didn't pick up.
Instead she opened the last voice note Maa had sent at 2:11 AM.
"…Riya if you're listening… just come back. Whatever happened, just come back. I won't even ask. Please beta…"
Riya pressed her forehead to her knees so hard it hurt.
Scene 2 – Same platform, 5:22 PM
A boy dropped his steel water bottle. It rolled and stopped exactly against Riya's shoe.
Arjun (18). Messy hair. Earphones hanging around neck like a broken necklace. Eyes red — not from crying, from lack of sleep.
He crouched to pick up the bottle, saw her ticket, saw her face, and froze.
"You're the girl who got the last confirmed ticket?"
Riya looked up sharply. "How do you know?"
"I was RAC 48."
He gave a dry laugh that had no humour in it.
"Fifty-seven rupees and twenty-one paise away from going home."
Riya's stomach twisted.
Arjun sat two feet away from her — not too close, not too far.
"I'm not angry," he said before she could apologise. "Just… funny how twenty-one rupees decides who gets to see their mother tonight."
Silence stretched like a tightrope between them.
Then Riya whispered, very small:
"I'm running away."
Arjun didn't look surprised.
"Yeah. I figured."
Scene 3 – 6:08 PM, announcement
"Train number 12341 arriving in fifteen minutes on platform 3…"
Riya stood up. Legs shaking.
Arjun stayed sitting.
She looked down at him.
"You can have it," she said suddenly.
He blinked. "What?"
"The ticket. Take it. I'll go back home."
Arjun stared at her like she had just spoken in another language.
"You haven't eaten since yesterday, have you?" he asked instead.
Riya's eyes filled instantly.
He pulled out a half packet of Parle-G from his pocket. Offered it without looking at her.
She took one biscuit. Then another. Then she was crying while eating crumbs.
Arjun spoke to the ground.
"My father had a heart attack last night. They're saying… maybe tonight. Maybe tomorrow morning. I was supposed to reach before—"
His voice cracked like dry wood.
"Doesn't matter now."
Riya stopped chewing.
She looked at the ticket again.
Then at Arjun's trembling fingers.
Then she did the unthinkable.
She tore the ticket in half.
Then in half again.
Then into eight tiny pieces.
Arjun's mouth fell open.
"What the hell—"
"I'm not going," Riya said, voice shaking but clear. "And neither are you. Not like this."
She dropped the pieces into the gap between platform and track.
"I'll wait with you here tonight. We'll both call our houses in the morning. Together. And we'll face whatever shouting comes. But not alone on a train."
Arjun stared at the torn pieces fluttering down into darkness.
Then he laughed — a real, broken, ugly laugh.
"You're insane."
"Yeah," Riya said, sitting back down beside him. "But so are you."
Scene 4 – 11:43 PM, same platform
They were sharing one blanket Arjun had carried in his bag.
Train after train passed. None of them theirs.
Riya's head eventually fell on his shoulder.
He didn't move her.
At 1:17 AM her phone rang again.
Maa.
This time Riya picked up.
"Maa… I'm still at the station. But I'm okay. I'm not alone."
Long silence on the other side.
Then, very softly:
"Put the boy on the phone."
Riya passed the phone.
Arjun swallowed.
"Aunty… hello."
Another long silence.
Then Maa's voice, hoarse but steady:
"Beta… bring my daughter home tomorrow. Both of you. I'm making aloo paratha. You like it with extra butter, na?"
Arjun's throat closed.
He could only nod — even though she couldn't see.
When the call ended, he looked at Riya.
She smiled — small, tired, real.
"Looks like you're getting parathas after all."
Arjun wiped his eyes roughly with his sleeve.
"Shut up."
But he didn't move away when she leaned against him again.
Fade out on platform 3.
Two kids sitting under one blanket.
No ticket.
No train.
Just the stubborn decision to stay — together — until morning.
The End.