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You were one of those people in this big city that knew how it was at night.
It was a city that never slept; no definite time for those who wake and those who slumber. Living in a city like this had its perks. Bright lights illuminated the streets with yellow, bridges that stretched far and wide, and highways that were home to zooming cars and lonely people with speeding tickets. Everywhere you looked, it was industrial-like every modern city. Every corner, there would be bus stops and train stations, another way to get to any destination.
You stepped out of the office and glanced at your watch. It was the only thing old on you, a contrast to your shiny red heels and your luxury bag. The strap was a faded blue and did not go with the rest of your outfit.
It was late but you did not want to go back home.
Being married to Kim Doyoung and knowing what he did behind your back was hard enough on a daily basis and today, you weren't in the right mind to deal with a façade you had to keep up. You half expected to get a text message from him but there was none. It disappointed you how you seemed to accept it fairly easily.
Has it come to that? A simple thought that popped up in your mind, reminding you that maybe he was sleeping with some else because of the way you were? The old you would have put up a fight and demanded answers but the you now was indifferent. There was a simmer of anger and betrayal within you but what bothered you most was the self-pity.
Your marriage with him was arranged. It did not take you much to allow yourself to be tugged back and forth like a puppet on a string by your conglomerate parents that tried to keep you under their reign. You were not much of a fighter when it came to the people you so desperately needed acceptance from.
You hated it because even if they loved you, they thought what was best for you was the only way you should live your life. You learned to love him. Throughout the journey of your marriage, you learned to love Doyoung's morning kisses and sweet words but somewhere along the way it stopped.
It stopped because marriage was no longer something that your parents focused on but your career and you had no choice. No choice but to discard every thought that you would be able to spend each waking moment with your husband. Instead, you were plunged into a whirlpool of management meetings and papers to sign.
Doyoung was okay with it at first. Until he began to change and as much as you blamed him for his lack of loyalty, you blamed yourself for your inability to keep him with you. So you smiled through it, turned a blind eye, and hoped that whoever he was bedding while you were gone could give him the tiniest bit of happiness that you couldn't.
You had no control of your own life. It was shaped by society, what people thought of you and who stood behind you and you knew-you knew, that without your parents you were nothing but a woman who had nothing to her name.
You had a new found love for train stations so you ended up at one, the cold breeze numbing your lips. There weren't many people around and you enjoyed the solace so you stayed. The tracks were rusted and you wondered how many people these trains station has brought to where they wanted to be.
You don't remember how many times you've ended up there but the more stressed out you were, the more frequent it had become.
Sitting and waiting for the train to come but never getting on because you knew that you couldn't.
As you stared into space, a voice spoke. The lack of people made you jump, a hand reaching up to press against your chest when you turned to see a young man. He wore a black coat and had orange hair peeking out from under his train conductor's hat. Your first thought was... What a bright color.
What did his parents think?
"One day, you'll find it in yourself to get on," he said simply, a smirk on his lips. His eyes had disappeared when he smiled and you noticed he had a walking stick. His shoes had steel heels, the silver metal gleaming and it made you wonder why you didn't hear him approach you. Surely shoes of that kind would make a sound. "I know a lost soul when I see one."
A lost soul. For someone so young, he did not speak like one.
"Maybe one day," you agreed, passing him a small smile. He kept silent and you noticed that in his other hand, he had gloves on. Was he off to a costume party? He was too young to be a train conductor. You didn't ask him that, the male leaning down to place a card right beside you.
"If ever you want to go where you need to be," he said to you. "I hope to see you soon."
You looked down at the card to see that there was writing on it, a hand bringing it up to squint at the words.
"The Train of Life," you murmured, tilting your head to the side. Must be a teenager playing make-believe. "Cute. And you are-"
You looked to where he once stood but he was gone. Once again, you wondered how he had left without making a sound. You frowned, your eyes skating over the empty train station when you brought your gaze back down onto the card.
The Train of Life.
There was no number on it though it looked like a business card. It had a small logo that spelled out "Dream on" at the bottom of the border. You flipped the card over, chewing on your lip to see a line hand-written in cursive. Business cards were not meant to be hand-written but you raveled at how beautiful the penmanship was.
![The Train Of Life [NCT Dream]](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/283504576-64-k360375.jpg)