The Silent Storm

"it's you."

"You promise you'll call more often?" my aunt asked, frowning as she wrapped her frail arms around my neck once more. I stifled an eye roll, returning her hug.

"Of course Aunty," I murmured, giving her a gentle squeeze. She sighed softly, her chocolate brown eyes glancing around us before resting on me.

"Please, darling, stay safe. I still don't think you should go. You know what they said on the news. The storms just going to get worse and god forbid anything happen whi-"

"Aunty," I cut her off, glancing at the clock a few feet away from me. "The train's gonna leave in a few minutes. I don't want to miss it." She sighed dejectedly before wrapping her arms around me once more.

"I'm gonna miss you so much darling," she murmured softly, kissing my forehead. I chuckled softly, kissing her cheek.

"I'll see you in a few weeks, I promise I'll come visit when I get the chance."

She smiled, letting go of me. "Stay safe love. Call me when you reach home, alright?"

"Of course Aunty."

As I stepped onto the train, I gave my aunt one last wave before I searched for a seat. Luckily enough, I was able to find an available window seat. I placed my purse down on the seat next to me. I didn't have anything else with me considering I had all the things I needed with me in my purse. I plugged my phone into the socket -- even though my phone was at 95%, it solaced me knowing I could charge my phone.

I've always loved train rides. They gave me a peace of mind driving couldn't give me. I rested my head against the seat, watching the blur of my surroundings pass by. It was currently snowing but it wasn't anything major -- just light flurries. However, the weather channel had said that it was supposed to worsen. This is said to be one of the worst storms this year.

It was mid-afternoon on a Friday evening. More and more passengers started to fill up the train at each stop. As I was reaching into my purse to grab something, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"Excuse me miss, is this se-" the man stopped talking abruptly as I turned around to look at him. My breath got caught in my throat as I gaped at him.

He was much taller since the last time I saw him -- which was what? Four, almost five years ago? -- and had scruff growing on his face. His caramel irises shone with surprise and a familiar warmth that I haven't seen in so long. His face was much more defined. He looked older, more mature, more attractive.

I, eventually, broke out of my trance, feeling my cheeks heat up slightly as I sat up straighter. My heart thumped rapidly as I glanced at him again. "Zain."

"Aisha." The way my name rolled off his tongue made my heart splutter.

Zain seemed to have trouble trying to find the right words and for a moment, we just stared at each other. Eventually, he found his voice. He cleared his throat before asked, "Is this seat taken?"

I shook my head, biting the inside of my cheek as I placed my bag on my other side. I swallowed inaudibly and the familiar smell of his Axe perfume wafted my nose. It brought back so many memories that I've kept away for years. It reminded me of the good, bad, and ugly times we've had. It reminded me of what it was like to have a home.

And not necessarily a house where I can go to everyday -- a home where I could come back to someone caring, a home where I could feel at peace, a home where I could be loved.

And suddenly, the train seemed ten times smaller than it was. I was very aware of the minuscule distance between our thighs. I tried scooting myself as far away as possible without looking like an idiot. I crossed my legs and propped my head up with my hand against the window sill. I glanced over at Zain and I saw his lips quirk.

"What?" I asked instinctively, cursing myself as the word left my lips. 

He looked at me, almost surprised that I was speaking to him. For a moment, he just stared at me. The look in his eyes made me almost want to look away. "You still nibble on your lower lip when you're nervous," he said, a soft chuckle escaping his plump pink lips.

Even after all these years, he could still read me like an open book. And that thought alone scared me for what seemed to be the longest train ride I'll ever have.