It was around midnight. Silence filled the air, broken only by distant train sounds and barking dogs.
At the gate stood Rahim, a watchman of a large apartment complex. During the day, the place was lively, but at night—it felt like a different world.
His job was simple. Open the gate, close it, observe people.
But his life was lonely.
One night, around 10 PM, a taxi stopped at the gate. A girl stepped out—wearing a light blue saree, eyes tired, yet her face carried a strange calmness.
Rahim asked, "Where to?"
She smiled, "C Block, Flat 302."
That was their first meeting.
Her name was Mehrin.
Days passed.
Mehrin would often return late at night, and Rahim would be there at the gate.
At first, it was just greetings.
Then slowly, conversations began.
One night she asked, "Don't you feel scared staying alone all night?"
Rahim smiled, "I'm used to it."
She paused and said softly, "Isn't loneliness painful?"
For the first time, Rahim had no answer.
After that, Mehrin sometimes brought tea for him. She shared stories about her office, her struggles.
And Rahim? He just listened.
But something in his eyes began to change.
One rainy night, Mehrin arrived drenched.
Rahim rushed with an umbrella.
"Why are you getting wet like this?" he said, almost worried.
She smiled softly, "Because I know… someone will come running with an umbrella."
That moment shook Rahim's heart.
Time changed.
But one day, Mehrin stopped coming.
One day… two days… a week…
Rahim kept looking at the gate every night.
Finally, she returned.
But her smile was gone.
She said softly, "I'm leaving… got a job in another city."
Rahim stood silent.
He only said, "Take care…"
She paused and said, "Do you know who I'll miss the most in this city?"
Rahim looked at her.
"This gate… and you."
That night felt endless.
Mehrin left.
But she left behind memories—a cup of tea, a few smiles, some quiet conversations.
Rahim still stands at the gate.
But he is no longer the same.
Because now he knows—
Someone, somewhere, remembers him.