1.1 | Midnight Trains

platform midnight

A/N:

i've always wanted to write romance starring an indian policeman and this is one story that i thoroughly enjoyed writing! i hope you like it as well.

xx cara

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Her nose bruised from the icy bite of midnight air. The sky was inky black, like the eyes of a ravenous beast, drenched with deranged hunger and spiteful smugness, ready to pounce on her prey. The absence of the moon was an added advantage for the nightly beast to shroud the sky with her cloak of darkness. For the second time that week, Keerthy's shift had taken longer than necessary. The seasonal flu was being a pain in the ass this year, modelling in different shapes to cripple the older people to bed and make croaking frogs out of adolescents.

The familiar ding ding ding of the train station echoed from a few metres away, followed by the lady's voice announcing the arrival of the local train that she had to take. Exhaling a frustrated breath and tightening her cardigan over her uniform, she curled her hands into fists. Sprinting it is, she muttered under her breath. Then she was off. Running across the platform, willing her feet to not skid across anything mildly gross spilled on the ground, and braced herself for the flights of stairs she had to climb up and down to get to the right platform. Her tote bag slapped across her hips but she was determined to catch the train before it left. Otherwise, she would be forced to book a taxi - an expense she would very much like to save.

Thankfully, in the devil's hour, not many people were rooted like statues for her to dodge and duck her way through. The train engine soared again. She heaved a breath, pushing her legs to work and never stopping until she climbed into the train. Fuck yeah, she thought, a breathless grin on her face. Her hair had slipped out of her braid and the unruly small strands were pasted onto her forehead with sweat. She combed it back with her fingers and caught her breath, standing until her noisy pants died down.

She had the liberty to pick from a variety of seats because the coach was almost empty, except for... three men. One was in a beaten-down suit, nodding off on the window sill. The other two were middle-aged, and drunk, their red eyes enough to make her heart turn in her chest.

Cautiously, she took a seat, hoping the men wouldn't even notice her presence. Even if they did, she prayed they'd be the nice kind of men who would mind their own business and turn a blind eye to her. Keerthy counted the seconds for the next station to arrive, hoping a woman would be kind enough to accompany her. She pulled out her phone, resisting the urge to look back at the men to see if they were watching her. Her brother's number was on the speed dial, just in case.

The next station arrived. Still, no sign of a woman. Seriously, where were all the women in the world? Did no one work a night shift?

The train moved again and her back hit the seat dejectedly. Just before Keerthy was about to give up all hope, she spotted a blurred movement, something or someone getting into the train. She craned her neck around and it was another man. But the knot of anxiety and fear loosened like someone pulled at the right thread when she realised the man was a police officer. The relief enclosed her like a warm blanket, murmuring in comfort - it's okay, Keerthy, it's okay. You're safe. No one would do anything in the presence of a man of law.

She couldn't see the face of the police officer. His back was turned against her, the khaki uniform pulled taut against his firm broad back. He was on a call, his phone pressed to his ear, the other hand holding the silver-coloured railing for balance. The police officer angled his head backward to scan the people in the back and Keerthy quickly looked through the window instead, narrowly escaping being caught. When she closed her eyes, she could see the burned image of his angular jaw and the neatly grazed stubble that she had caught in the periphery of her eyes. He looked young, close to her age, maybe a year younger or older.