The Woman on the Train

I first noticed her on the train a little over a year ago, and from that very first moment, she left a lasting impression on me. She looked stunning, with a look that was both eye-catching and effortlessly elegant. Her style was a wonderful blend of trendy and casual, showing good taste. Her demeanor radiated poise and grace; she carried herself with natural confidence and ease, as if it came second nature to her. She appeared calm and self-assured, creating a composed and likable presence that naturally drew people in. I found myself unable to look away, mesmerized not just by her beauty but also by the warm aura of confidence she radiated. Even knowing nothing about her personality, background, or stories, I instantly felt a deep, inexplicable attraction. I kept imagining who she might be, what kind of life she was living, and what chances I had of being with her in the future.

I start work at 7:00 a.m., but my day actually begins much earlier. Every morning, I have to catch the 6:00 a.m. train to the office, which means waking up quite early to get ready and reach the station on time. Although I sometimes wish I could sleep a little longer, I choose to leave early because it helps me avoid the usual rush hour crowd and ensures I don't arrive stressed or late. The train at that early hour is usually not crowded, making it easy to find a seat and making the long, dull ride more comfortable.

Since I saw her, my commute has changed dramatically and has become a daily ritual. I find myself counting down the hours until morning, looking forward to seeing her again. And while I'm in the train car near her, I often wish the trip could last forever.

She was always there when I got on, getting off at the station just before mine. Over time, we grew more aware of each other, and gradually we started exchanging slight gestures, brief smiles, and polite nods to acknowledge each other's presence, but it never led to conversation. It was as if an unspoken mutual agreement kept us from crossing that line into dialogue, forming a silent barrier between us. Suppose I hadn't recently gone through the emotional upheaval of a divorce. In that case, I might have had the courage to break that barrier and start a conversation, perhaps learn her story, discover who she really was beyond those fleeting exchanges, and maybe even find the nerve to seduce her, to see if there was something more between us. But I didn't do that. I had fallen for her, but I held back. I didn't want to risk losing the small comfort I found in these brief encounters. They gave me a sense of calm and routine in the middle of my personal chaos.

Since I didn't know her name, I tried imagining one for her. Eventually, I decided to think of her as Helen, inspired by Helen of Troy, the legendary Greek figure known for her unmatched beauty and grace. To me, she embodied the same timeless charm, a modern-day Helen of Troy. Over time, Helen started appearing more often in my dreams. I thought about her during my quiet moments, my thoughts constantly drifting toward her captivating image, filled with awe, admiration, and a hint of longing. My fascination with her deepened as I imagined her life, her personality, and her mysterious aura.

That morning, she acted differently. Her head remained bowed, and she kept her eyes on the ground to avoid making eye contact with those nearby. Quiet tears welled up in her eyes, and she was gently dabbing at them with a crumpled tissue, trying to control her emotions and keep her composure. I reached into my bag, pulled out a new pack of pocket tissues, and sat down beside her. I offered her the tissue and softly asked, "Are you okay?"

She lifted her head, glanced at me, grabbed a tissue, and said, "Thank you."

I repeated my question softly, asking, "Are you okay?" Then I added, "What made you feel sad?"

She slowly lifted her head, and her moist eyes briefly met mine, reflecting a mix of sadness and vulnerability. After a brief pause, she answered, "Nothing, I'm fine."

Seeing her tearful eyes, my heart ached with empathy; I could feel her pain deep inside. Even though she was sad, her voice sounded angelic to my ears. Wanting to comfort her, I gently asked, "How can I help you feel better?"

She lifted her head again, and with a gentle smile, replied, "Thank you for your kindness. But you can do nothing."

Her words were simple but heavy with resignation, leaving a poignant silence between us filled with unspoken emotions.

After a moment of pause and some deep thought, I finally summoned the courage to speak. I looked at her and said, "Although we have never actually spoken to each other, I feel like I know you on some level. I see you every day on the train, quietly observing your surroundings, making small gestures, and watching the world go by. These subtle actions make me feel a sense of familiarity, as if I've glimpsed part of your story without exchanging words. It's been so long since I thought of you as just a stranger; now, I almost feel like I know you in a quiet, unspoken way. It's funny how sometimes, even in saying nothing, people can develop a sense of connection, an understanding that transcends words and gestures. So, from one friend to another, I want to ask: what has happened in your life that has brought you so much sadness? Please share it with me if you feel comfortable."

Her gaze met mine, revealing a mix of emotions I couldn't quite grasp. Though her beautiful eyes remained moist, she was no longer crying. After a brief pause, likely to gather her thoughts and find the right words, she finally said, "The feeling is mutual."

Her voice was gentle and nearly trembling, but her sincere expression made her words hit me hard, causing my heart to sink—a feeling I hadn't experienced in years. I asked, "So, please tell me what made you feel sad?" As I waited for her response, I noticed that my voice was slightly trembling, betraying my calm and confident facade.

"I feel I can trust you," she replied, then fell silent.

I nodded, grateful for her comment.

After a long, tense pause, she finally found her voice and said, "I just found out that my husband has been seeing someone else, and now he's telling me he wants to leave me for her."

Hearing that she had a husband who didn't seem worthy of such an elegant wife stirred feelings of jealousy and anger inside me. I couldn't help but let my thoughts slip out in a moment of poorly concealed emotion, and I blurted out, "Your husband doesn't deserve a perfect wife like you." As soon as the words escaped my mouth, a wave of regret washed over me. I realized how superficial and ignorant my comment was because I knew nothing about her or her marriage and had only judged based on my petty feelings.

She raised her head and stared into my eyes, and with a smile said, "Thank you."

I nodded in appreciation and said, "You shouldn't let him ruin your life." But as soon as the words left my mouth, I felt a pang of regret again, as if sitting beside her stirred my emotions and clouded my judgment. I knew nothing about her situation or her relationship with her husband. Despite that, I had already made a judgment, labeling him as guilty without truly hearing his side of the story.

She smiled again, her eyes softly shining as a warm look spread across her face. Without speaking, she reached out and gently took my hand, her fingers gently curling around mine as she gave it a soft squeeze.

Her touch sent a jolt through my body, quickening my heartbeat. The sensation was both exhilarating and frightening, a reminder of how deeply I cared for her. I looked into her eyes, feeling a strong affection. "If you believe he doesn't deserve you, you should leave him," I said, my voice trembling. "Remember, you only live once, so seize every moment of it." But this time, I didn't feel guilty about my comment.

She smiled softly and hesitated for a moment before asking, "Would you be able to spend some time with me today? I don't feel up to going to work right now." She then added, "I want a friend to talk to, someone who can listen and understand without judgment."

Her unexpected request made my heart race, and I felt a surge of excitement and nervousness flow through me. Of course, I wanted nothing more than to be with her, to spend time together. I had been suppressing this desire since the very first day I met her. Taking a deep breath, gathering my courage, I responded with a smile, "Sure, I can."

She replied, "It means a lot to me, thank you."

I nodded and hesitantly reached for my phone, dialing the office number. Once connected, I explained I wasn't feeling well and needed to call in sick for the day.