We meet thousands of people in a lifetime. Most of them come and go. Some stay for a season. And then--now and then--you meet someone who doesn't stay for all time, but changes you for all time.

This is the story of one such meeting.

Chapter One: The Escape
Naina had sobbed the whole night on her bathroom floor. Her boyfriend of five years had just told her that he never actually thought about a future for the two of them. Her wedding-day fantasies, her visions of her first apartment to share, Sunday morning sleeping-in to the aroma of coffee and crossword puzzles--all disintegrated with the four words: "I'm sorry, but I can't do this anymore."

She booked a seat on the first train out of Mumbai the next day, aimless—just wanting to escape.

She was on a half-full train to Goa, in the window seat, with headphones, faking sleep so no one would come up to her and try to strike up a conversation. That is when the stranger got on the seat beside her.

Chapter Two: The Stranger
He was probably in his 30s, wearing a worn-out green jacket and a dog-eared book of The Alchemist. They didn't exchange a word for a while. Only the roar of the train and the soft din of thoughts within their minds.

It was only when the train stopped at a small station for a moment and the hawker walked by with cutting chai that the man uttered something.

Hello," he said to her, handing her a mug, "tea will never sort things out, but it keeps the pain at bay for a bit."

She frowned but took it. Sometimes, mid-flow, small acts of respect seem like lifelines.

Chapter Three: The Conversation
They began to talk.

Not sarcasm.
But real conversation.

The kind which dispels time like minutes.

She told him about her disillusionment, about being afraid of having to begin again at 29, about all the people in her life settling down while she was unraveling.

He didn't advise. He just listened.

Then he talked.
He'd lost his wife three years ago in an automobile accident. Since then, he'd traveled by train all over India, writing about the strangers he met, hoping to find bits of himself in their stories.

He said, “You think you’re broken now. But the cracks are where your real self will come through.”

Chapter Four: The Goodbye That Wasn’t Sad
When they arrived in Goa, they didn't exchange numbers. No promises of catching up soon. No shady selfies to mark the occasion.

Just a mutual understanding.

He was getting up to leave when he turned around to her and said, "You're going to be okay. Not initially. But you will be. And when you are, write something. Tell someone. That pain isn't the end of the book."

Epilogue: When a Stranger is Like Home
Two years later, Naina runs her own travel blog, writing about the characters she meets on trains, buses, and small cafes. She never saw him again—but he's always in her mind.

She can't remember his surname.

But she remembers the way he addressed her.

Seen. Heard. Understood.

And that's the strange part about soulmates—they don't exactly come with romance or forever. They can show up in coach with a cup of chai, and depart with the same silence in which they came.

But their presence lingers.