Churchgate Railway station, Located in the heart of Mumbai, was filled with the usual hum of the city—people rushing to catch their trains, announcements echoing over the loudspeakers, and the rhythmic sound of footsteps on the marble floors. Amid the crowd, Mercy stood near platform 3, waiting for the fast train to take him home.
He was a different man now—older, wiser, and married, the years had softened the edges of his youth, leaving him with a calm demeanor and a deep contentment that had come with time.
But beneath that contentment, there was something else. A faint echo from his past that sometimes rose to the surface when the nights were quiet and his thoughts wandered. That echo had a name— Cheery.
They had never fully been together, never crossed that final line into what people call a "relationship." But whatever they had shared, it had been more than friendship. Theirs' was a connection that had blurred the boundaries between friendship and love, leaving them suspended in a space that was neither and yet both.
There had been late-night conversations that felt too intimate, glances that lingered longer than they should, and moments where their hands had brushed, sparking something deeper than either was willing to admit. But back then, neither had been ready to risk of ruining what they had, so they had walked away. Cheery had left the city first, chasing her career and dreams, while Mercy stayed behind to build a life rooted in family and familiarity.
They had moved on, or so they believed. Mercy married a kind, loving woman, and their life together was stable and warm. They had children, a house, and a routine that brought comfort. Cheery, too, had married someone who adored her, and she lived a life of travel and adventure, just as she had always wanted. Over the years, their lives became distant chapters in each other’s stories, forgotten but never fully erased.
And now, here he was, standing at the station, about to board his train, when he saw her out of the corner of his eye.
Cheery!
For a moment, Mercy thought he was imagining things. But there she was, unmistakably real, standing at the far end of the platform. She hadn’t changed much. Her hair was shorter, and there were faint lines around her eyes, but the way she stood—the quiet confidence in her posture—was the same. Time had touched her, but gently.
He stood frozen, unsure of what to do. Did she see him? Should he approach her? His heart beat faster, a strange mix of excitement and anxiety flooding through him. Twenty years. How do you greet someone who once meant so much, someone who had left a permanent mark on your heart without ever fully belonging to you?
Before he could decide, Cheery looked up, her gaze sweeping across the platform until her eyes landed on him. For a split second, she looked surprised, as if she, too, couldn’t believe this chance encounter. Then, her lips curved into a small, uncertain smile.
Mercy smiled back, a bit awkwardly, and before he knew it, his feet were carrying him toward her. As he got closer, the rush of old emotions hit him like a wave—memories of their time together, the conversations, the laughter, the unspoken tension that had always lingered between them.
“Cheery,” he said, his voice catching slightly. “I can’t believe it’s you.”
“Mercy,” she replied softly, her smile growing warmer but still tinged with something bittersweet. “I didn’t expect to run into you. It’s been... what, twenty years?”
“Yeah, twenty years,” Mercy echoed, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that she was standing in front of him after all this time. “How are you? What are you doing here?”
“I’m good,” Cheery said, though there was something in her tone that hinted at a deeper complexity beneath the surface. “I’m just passing through the city for a couple of days. My husband and I live abroad now.”
The word “husband” hit Mercy harder than he expected, even though he knew, of course, that Cheery had moved on, just like he had. But hearing it from her lips made it feel more real, more final.
“Wow, I didn’t know,” he said, struggling to keep his voice even. “That’s great. I mean, I’m happy for you.”
Cheery nodded, though there was a flicker of something in her eyes as if she understood what he wasn’t saying. “And you? Are you still here in the city?”
“Yeah,” Mercy replied, shifting his weight slightly. “I got married a few years after you left. We have two kids now. Life’s... good.”
For a moment, they stood in silence, the weight of everything they weren’t saying hanging in the air between them. It was strange, this feeling of standing face-to-face with someone who had once been such a huge part of your life, yet now felt like a stranger. And yet, in some ways, Cheery didn’t feel like a stranger at all. There was still that undercurrent of familiarity between them, the unspoken understanding they had always shared. But now, it was overlaid with years of distance, and the realities of the lives they had built without each other.
“It’s funny,” Cheery said, breaking the silence, “I’ve thought about you a lot over the years. I’ve wondered how you were doing, what your life had turned into.”
Mercy looked at her, his heart aching with a mixture of old love and new sadness. “I’ve thought about you too,” he admitted quietly. “More than I probably should have.”
Cherry’s eyes softened, and for a moment, the wall between them seemed to crumble just a little. “We were never just friends, were we?” she said softly, her voice carrying a hint of regret. “But we weren’t... more, either. We were something in between.”
Mercy nodded, feeling the truth of her words in his chest. “Yeah. Something in between.” He let out a small, sad laugh. “I’ve thought about that a lot, too. Wondering if we should’ve taken the chance, if we should’ve... been more.”
Cheery’s gaze dropped to the ground, and she sighed. “I think about that sometimes. But we were young, and I don’t think either of us was ready for what ‘more’ would’ve meant. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.”
“Maybe,” Mercy said, though he wasn’t sure he believed it. There was a part of him that had always wondered what would’ve happened if they had been brave enough to take the risk, to see what was on the other side of their connection. Would they have ended up together? Or would they have ruined everything?
“Do you ever feel like we missed out on something?” Cheery asked, her voice barely above a whisper. There was no accusation in her tone, just a quiet, lingering sadness.
Mercy looked at her, feeling the weight of her question. He thought about his wife, his children, and the life he had built. He loved them deeply, but the space where Cheery had once lived in his heart had never fully closed. “Sometimes,” he said, being honest in a way he hadn’t been with himself in years. “But we’ve both moved on. We have families and lives that are... good. And maybe that’s enough.”
Cheery smiled sadly. “Yeah. Maybe it is.”
But as they stood there, facing each other in the crowded train station, both of them knew that something was still unfinished between them. It wasn’t that they regretted the lives they had built—Mercy loved his wife, and Cheery loved her husband—but there was a piece of their past that still hung in the air, unresolved and untouchable.
“I should go,” Cheery said after a moment, glancing at her watch. “I have to catch my train.”
“Yeah,” Mercy said, feeling the familiar ache of goodbye settling into his chest. “I guess I should, too.”
They lingered for a moment longer, neither quite wanting to leave. There were no words left to say, and yet so much remained unsaid. In another life, in another world, maybe things would’ve been different. Maybe they would’ve found a way to be together. But in this life, they had chosen different paths, and those paths had led them away from each other.
Cheery reached out, and for the first time in twenty years, their hands touched. It was a brief, gentle touch, but it carried the weight of everything they had once felt and everything they had never said.
“Take care, Mercy,” she said softly, her eyes meeting his one last time.
“You too, Cheery,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion.
And then, she was gone, disappearing into the crowd, leaving Mercy standing alone on the platform. The ache in his chest was familiar now, a mix of old love and new sadness that he knew would stay with him long after she was gone.
As Mercy boarded his train and watched the city fade away through the window, he thought about the life he had, the family waiting for him at home, and the woman he had just bid farewell for the last time.
Love was complicated. It wasn’t always clean or simple. Sometimes, it lingered in the spaces between friendship and romance, never quite becoming one or the other. And sometimes, it left behind a shadow, a reminder of what could have been but never was.
Mercy closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat. He loved his wife, his family, and the life they had built together. But there would always be a part of him that carried the memory of Cheery, that wondered what their story might have been if they had chosen a different path.
And as the train carried him away from the city and toward the life he had chosen, he realized that some things—some loves—were never truly meant to be. And maybe, just maybe, that was okay.