The Airport Gate

The airport gate buzzed with the murmur of strangers, the static of announcements, and the occasional screech of suitcase wheels. Amid the crowd, Tara sat still, her fingers tightly wrapped around the handle of her coffee cup. The liquid inside had long gone cold, but she hadn’t noticed. Her eyes kept drifting to the boarding gate, then to the digital clock above it, then back to the entrance. She was waiting.

It had been five years since she last saw Arjun. Five years of unanswered messages, silent birthdays, and quiet mourning. When they parted at this very airport, they had made promises—soft, fragile things that dissolved the moment reality caught up with them. She stayed back to care for her ailing father. He had a scholarship abroad. Neither blamed the other. And yet, the distance created a space too wide to cross.

"Flight 6E-248 to Delhi, final boarding call."

Tara’s heart skipped. She wasn’t here for the flight. She was here for him.

When the crowd started thinning out, a part of her knew it was foolish to hope. Maybe he had forgotten. Maybe he had moved on. People do. Life does.

And then, she saw him.

Arjun was taller, maybe leaner, but the moment their eyes met, time folded like a sheet of paper. The years disappeared.

He smiled, and just like that, she forgot how to breathe.

“Tara,” he said, walking closer.

“You came,” she whispered.

He stopped in front of her, unsure whether to hug her or not. She stood up, and the uncertainty melted. They embraced like they never let go in the first place.

“I didn’t think you would wait,” he said.

“I didn’t think you’d remember,” she replied.

He chuckled softly. “You think I could forget the girl who once said she’d meet me here again on June 27th, five years from then?”

She smiled, her eyes glassy. “I almost didn’t come.”

“Me too,” he admitted. “But… I couldn’t not.”

They sat down on the same bench they had once cried at all those years ago. The air between them was thick—not with awkwardness, but with unspoken emotions.

“So,” he said after a moment. “What happened after I left?”

Tara looked away, biting her lip. “My father passed away a year later.”

He reached for her hand. She let him take it.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“I’m okay now,” she said, though her voice trembled. “I stayed. I worked. I waited.”

“You waited for what?”

“I’m still figuring that out,” she said. “But today, maybe I waited for you.”

They talked for over an hour. About everything. About nothing. About how he had tried to settle in London but never really did. How she had thought about moving on but couldn’t force her heart to forget.

“Why didn’t we try harder?” she asked suddenly.

“Because we were scared,” he said honestly. “Scared that love wasn’t enough.”

“And is it now?”

He looked at her, really looked. “I don’t know. But I know I want to find out.”

Her eyes softened. “I don’t want to lose you again, Arjun.”

“Then don’t,” he said. “Come with me.”

“What?”

“Come to Delhi. Not forever. Just… just for now. Let’s not waste more years wondering.”

Tara’s mind spun. Her suitcase was still in the car. She had told herself this was just closure. A goodbye. But now…

“What if we fail?” she asked.

“Then at least we’ll know.”

She stood up, heart pounding. “Gate’s closing in five minutes.”

He stood too. “So what’s it going to be?”

She looked at the gate, then at him. “Let’s go.”

They ran — laughing, breathless, terrified — but together. When they reached the counter, the attendant gave them a look but let them through.

As they walked down the jet bridge, fingers intertwined, Tara whispered, “You still take too many risks.”

“You still follow through,” he smiled.

The engines roared to life. The plane pulled away from the gate. The past was behind them.

And for the first time in five years, the future wasn’t so far away.

They sat in silence for a moment as the plane ascended into the clouds. Arjun looked out the window. Tara looked at him.

“Do you think we’re making a mistake?” she asked.

He turned to her, took her hand again. “Maybe. But at least it’s our mistake.”

She laughed softly. It felt strange—how easy it was to fall back into this rhythm, how natural.

The flight attendant came by, offering water. Tara declined, but Arjun took a cup.

“Do you remember our last flight together?” she asked.

“Mumbai to Goa. You spilled coffee on my jeans.”

“And you laughed like an idiot while I panicked.”

“I was happy,” he said, suddenly serious. “Happier than I realized.”

They both fell quiet again.

After landing, they stepped into the humid air of Delhi’s terminal. The city buzzed, loud and unapologetic. But in the chaos, they found a stillness between them.

Outside, as the taxi pulled up, Arjun paused.

“You don’t have to decide anything now, Tara. Just… be here. For a while.”

She nodded. “Let’s start with today.”

And as the car pulled away from the curb, two hearts—once separated by oceans and years—sat side by side again, unsure of what came next, but finally brave enough to find out.

As the gate finally closed behind him, Zayan turned back one last time, catching a fleeting glimpse of her through the glass. In that moment, time stood still — not because he was leaving, but because he knew he was leaving everything. Amara stood frozen, tears streaming down her face, clutching her heart like it was the only thing anchoring her. She whispered, “If it’s written in the stars, you’ll come back.” And maybe that was enough — to believe that somewhere, someday, somehow, love would find its way again. The airport was just a place. But that moment? That goodbye? It became the story of their forever.

“She stood silently, replaying every moment they’d shared, wishing time could pause — just once.”