Lovers at 5:52

Zoya was impatiently waiting for the 5:52 train, her feet tapping on the tiled floor and her hands constantly adjusting the straps of her backpack. She was exhausted from a long day at college and couldn't wait to get home. She would shower for an hour, tending to each strand of her greasy hair and washing her grubby face.

Before the train even arrived, she was shoved ahead with the rushing crowd and as the doors slid open, she stumbled in a daze. Her tired eyes instinctively searched for an empty seat and fortunately, it was right in front of her. She quickly sat, avoiding people's glares who were also aiming for the same seat. With a sly smile, she dug in her pocket and retrieved her earphones.

Just as she looked up, her eyes locked into alluring hazel ones which twinkled mischievously. He had caught her triumphant smile of capturing the seat. Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment as she hastily glanced down at her phone, pretending to choose a song. She could feel him staring at her so she lowered her head further. All she wanted was to shrink into a small, cuddly ball and roll under the seat.

She clumsily got up and shuffled towards the door, fifteen minutes before her stop arrived. The boy now had his earphones stuffed in his ears and his eyes shut peacefully. The sinking sun's last golden rays spilled on his tanned face, his skin appearing luminous and his hair looking like silky caramel. How did he manage to look so magnificent at the end of the day, she had no clue about.

His eyes fluttered open and Zoya panicked, hurrying outside the door, realising later that she had stepped on the wrong station and hers was yet to arrive. With a loud groan and a childish stomp, she irritatedly watched the train go. All because of a boy she was never going to see again.
* * *
Zoya had been wrong because here she was, sitting right opposite to the boy with hazel eyes, the next day. She pretended to be busy with her phone, occasionally glancing at him only to find him genuinely occupied with his phone. She was curious who he was texting to and what, but she mostly kept her head down.

A sick man with a bunch of wet tissues in his hands accommodated the seat next to her and sneezed loudly right on her face.
Her head jerked up as she felt water droplets on the side of her face. Feeling disgusted, she slowly wiped it off with the sleeve of her t-shirt. Then their eyes met again, those naughty hazel eyes boring into hers. He looked partly amused as he gently patted the vacant seat beside him, feeling sorry for her.

"Here," he mouthed with a cheeky grin.

The next few minutes were a blur to Zoya who somehow mustered enough courage to sit beside him, her clammy hands clutching her backpack tightly against her chest and earphones dangling on her neck.

"Thanks." She didn't mean that to come out curt and ungracious, but her shyness took hold of her tongue.
Nevertheless, he smiled, that beautiful smile of his.
* * *
The entire weekend Zoya thought of him and kicked herself mentally for not speaking. On Monday, she dashed outside her college as her best friend called after her, "Going to meet the 5:52 train boy huh?"

She stopped dead on her tracks, fighting a blush. "Nothing like that . . ."

"You know, nothing's going to happen right? Like I don't mean to make you feel bad, but I don't want you to get hurt in the end. He won't fall for a random girl he meets on the train and if he does, I'm sure it's his thing of hitting on every girl he meets."

"Uh yeah," Zoya replied forlornly, then she shook her head. "Yeah, yeah, of course I know, it's nothing really. Anyway, I have to reach home early to help ma cook so I can't miss this train. Bye!"

She shrugged the worrying words of her best friend and scurried to the station. Fortunately, she didn't miss the 5:52 train and as if she wasn't lucky enough, she found an empty seat right beside the boy. He always sat on that same seat and she wondered how he had managed to do so.
Zoya was flustered as she slumped beside him, breathing erratically.

The boy suddenly turned to her and his eyes seemed to shine up so close. "Hey! There you are again. You found a very good seat this time."
She couldn't help but laugh softly at his subtly mocking humour.

He looked pleased and she hoped he would continue talking, but he indifferently shifted his gaze towards the window. Not knowing what to do, Zoya started digging her pockets for her earphones, coming to the sore realisation that she had left it at home. Without music, how was she supposed to calm down, sitting beside this extremely charming boy?

"You forgot your earphones?" he asked quietly as if reading her mind.

Zoya's eyes went wide for a second, being caught off guard. "Yeah."

"Here." He nonchalantly offered her one bud of his own earphones while simultaneously pushing the other one in his ear.

Her throat went dry as she coyly accepted it. "Thanks."

Again her thanks came out rudely and she cursed under her breath.

The boy quirked an eyebrow in question and seeing no response, he went back to scroll through his playlist. 'We Are Young' blasted in her ears and he cocked his head at her, smiling apologetically before lowering the volume. A wave of nostalgia hit her as he continued smiling, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Brings back middle school memories, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," she breathed, relaxing a little. "My sister and I would sing this the entire day. We grew closer during those days."

"Yeah? Same with me and my sister," he said wistfully, then his eyes suddenly lightened up when the chorus came. He started fake playing a guitar and she laughed, enjoying his carefree nature. He bobbed his head, encouraging her to join in. Initially, she brushed it off laughing consciously, but then she noticed his crestfallen expression. With an odd grin, she started head banging, totally out of rhythm and felt she was doing the right thing when she heard his boyish laughter. Just as the music ceased to play, he leaned closer to her and whispered, "That old lady there thinks we're crazy." 

She giggled, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks when she saw a lady with a shock of white hair staring bizarrely at them. "Yeah we should stop, my head kinda hurts."

The boy chuckled and they fell back in a comfortable silence, relishing his interesting taste in music.

"Hey, your stop came I think."

Zoya became startled, then said abashedly, "No, mine's the-the next stop."

He peered at her inquisitively and she sighed, admitting defeat.

"Yesterday I-I got down at the wrong station. I wasn't in my erm . . . right mind."

He smirked as if knowing the reason and she nervously bit the inside of her cheek. Damn him.

* * *
The coming days they kept meeting each other at 5:52, sometimes talking about their city and most of the time, tacitly sharing their playlists. Zoya didn't have the courage to ask his name let alone his personal life. Besides, it was too late and lame to ask him his name now.

Her summer break was beginning from tomorrow and she promised to herself that she would ask for his number today. There was no backing down. She would be restless if she let their little affair which she savoured quite a lot to be a complete, foolish waste. 

"Hey Zoya, do you want to grab a bite? I want you to tell me which outfits I can wear for my trip. I have their pictures saved," her best friend said excitedly and Zoya felt uneasy.

"Well . . . Okay, we can go have tacos---"

"Oh my God, I'm kidding," she burst out and Zoya gave her an incredulous look. "You should have looked at your face, priceless. Of course, I know you're going to meet the train boy."

"No seriously, we can go have tacos---"

"Shut up idiot, no need to be a saint," she interrupted and glanced at her watch. "It's already 5:30, you should get going. Wouldn't want to miss seeing him for the last time."

"I was hoping to get his number actually," Zoya said timidly and paused. "What do you think?"

"I don't know . . . I mean yeah, you can, but I don't want you to get hurt in the end. Remember what I said earlier---"

"Right yeah," she said forcefully, secretly strengthening her promise that she was definitely going to ask for his number now. Her best friend was cynical about everything, that sort of explained why her relationships always ended before moving forward even an inch. "I know, thank you. See you soon, I'll text."

Zoya almost sprinted to the station, bumping exasperated people all the way, tossing a few apologies here and there. Her chest heaved up and down as she struggled for breath, but she reached right on time. She smiled to herself in satisfaction and viewed the approaching train, but her smile soon turned to a quivering straight line. Her hands went cold and she felt queasy, she didn't know whether she was imagining, but it seemed like she could actually feel her heart drop to her stomach. Her shoulders felt heavy and she stood there dumbfounded, tugging the straps of her backpack hard. Nearly ripping them off.

For there stood in the train, the boy with hazel eyes, smiling that beautiful smile of his at an equally beautiful girl.

Zoya staggered back, her teary eyes fixed on the couple, her best friend's words ringing in her ears.
She left.
* * *
"Where's the cute girl you couldn't stop texting me about that day? Is she even real?" the boy's sister teased him and he scoffed, feeling stressed. The doors of the train closed behind them and his sister gripped his arm, drawing his attention, "Are you okay?"

He looked visibly disturbed, but he quickly hid the troubled thoughts swirling in his mind with a dazzling smile. "Yeah I'm fine. She usually comes here, in fact, every day. I don't know what happened . . . "

His head whipped desperately in all directions and for a second, he thought that he saw through the window, a figure similar to hers on the station, vanishing among the mass of people.

Where are you? What happened to you?

"It's okay, she'll show up tomorrow. She wouldn't be well, you should text her."

"I don't have her number," he admitted in frustration and gave his sister a helpless look. "What if she never comes?"

"She will, don't worry so much."

But she didn't and now everyday at 5:52, a yearning heart waited for it's love to come back and sing songs.

Part 2-

Zoya jostled through the mass of sweaty people in the train as his voice followed her, "Hey, hey, wait!"

Suddenly, she heard someone else yelling simultaneously and she whirled around.

"Back down brother, she's not interested---"

"I know her, I just want to talk . . . "

"Do you know him ma'am?" an intimidating man caught her gaze and dutifully asked her. "He's been following you in the train, right from the moment you entered."

I know, I was dodging him purposefully.

"Hey, it's me---"

"I'm asking her, not you," the man cut him off and raised his eyebrow at Zoya.

Zoya's heart pounded in her chest as her eyes met those familiar hazel ones, this time instead of seeing the vibrant sparkle, she saw confusion.

She couldn't believe that she had crossed paths with him after two months of summer break. It felt surreal as if he had been in the train the entire time, waiting for her. But that wasn't even remotely possible since he was busy with that gorgeous girl she had seen him with- the sort of girl she could never become. 

The man's harsh clearing of throat broke the tense atmosphere and she came back to her senses.

The boy tried to take a step forward, but the man blocked him. His eyebrows knotted in indignation. Nevertheless, he threw his hands up in the air, surrendering. His eyes flashed back to Zoya, this time filled with hope.

"No, I don't even know his name."
* * *
Zoya dreaded to go to the station the next day, but her best friend insisted her to go, calling her a coward if she didn't confront her problems.
"It's just a boy, you can't stop taking the train for a boy."

Her best friend's practical words echoed in her head as Zoya stepped in the station with a newfound spirit, but that soon dissolved when she saw him in his usual glory- standing on the platform casually with his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

Just as he spotted her, she quickly turned around and started racing ahead. She heard light footsteps behind her and soon felt long fingers grip her arm. She twisted furiously and his eyes went wide. He hastily let go of her arm as soon as he had held it. The innocent gleam in his eyes calmed her.
He hesitated talking, bewildered at her coldness so she spoke, "Why are you not in the train and here?"

"I was waiting for you to come, I-I don't understand why you're running from me. Did I do something wrong?"

Zoya would have fell for his sincerity right then and there, but she knew better. 

She scoffed. "Nothing that matters, let's put this behind us and never see each other again."

"Is that what you want?" he asked dubiously, puzzled by her animosity. "I thought we had fun and I was hoping to get your number."

"Why? So you can make a complete fool of myself- oh I'm dating a super attractive girl, but there's this other girl I see in the train, well, I'm not sure which one I like. And she doesn't know I'm seeing someone else, poor her," she said in a high-pitched tone, mocking him, feeling a sudden rush of rage and confidence. She sounded ridiculous. "Too bad she isn't as naive as you thought she was."

The boy looked baffled, his entire face creased as to what the hell she was blabbering about. At that exact moment, Zoya realised that she had misinterpreted certain things and had made a spectacle of herself. Now, all she wanted was to run away from her own self- free her soul from this useless shell called body and become a new, mature person.
* * *
"That was my sister!" the boy exclaimed in amusement, laughing loudly as they both collapsed on the seat. "You couldn't have possibly thought that."

Zoya shamefully covered her face with her palms and said in a muffled voice, "I hate myself so much. I'm so so sorry."
He was still laughing, brushing off her apology. "That felt like I was in a soap opera."

"You don't know how sorry I am, that scene I caused---"

"Was hilarious," he intervened, his dreamy eyes narrowing as he continued laughing. Then noticing that Zoya's face was a bright red from embarrassment, he smiled kindly. "It's alright, not a big deal. I get what you must have felt like, I would have reacted the same way."
"Yeah no, you wouldn't have dramatically flew away."

"Perhaps not," he said playfully and seeing her self-loathing state, he continued, "But hey, we're cool now."

"I was such a jerk to you, oh God," Zoya muttered bitterly and watched him take out his earphones. "What can I do to make it up to?"

He simply stuffed one bud in his ear and gave another one to her, clicking on the song- 'We Are Young.' "Let's start fresh."

"Okay." She smiled in relief and before the chorus came, the boy acted as if he had a guitar in his hand. Then instead of fake playing it, he cradled it in his arms and stretched it towards her. She was mildly entertained as she reluctantly took the fake guitar from him, hugging the apparently huge thing against her chest. "What?"

"Play it, I'll forget you ever being mean to me." Zoya gave him a 'are you kidding' expression, but he insisted, "Go on, I'm not joking."

She awkwardly pretended to hold the fake instrument and slowly started strumming it. The boy initially clapped in harmony to the music blasting in their ears and then he started shaking his head animatedly. She was transfixed by his silky, caramel-like hair lashing in the air and her own movements with the guitar became vigorous. Their eyes met briefly in this preposterous display and they both burst out laughing.

"No wonder, that old lady thought we were crazy," she quipped, exhilarated and he nodded in a haze, pushing his hair back from his forehead. "I missed us this summer."

"I know," he murmured then shrugged, unbothered. "We have now and tomorrow."

"And the day after tomorrow and the day after that . . . "

He chuckled softly. "Yeah, we do."

So they listened to the songs they had heard before, enjoyed new ones until Zoya got up unwillingly since her stop came. "If only l didn't have to go now."

He grinned. "We have tomorrow and the day after---"

"Yup, I know," she said and extended her hand to him. "I'm Zoya by the way."

He took her hand and warmly shook it. "Okay, hi Zoya."

She frowned, perplexed. "Won't you tell me your name?"

"You'll have to come tomorrow to know my name," he bantered and she crossed her arms against her chest.

"Is this your sort of blackmail for getting me to come back tomorrow?"

He smirked, unconcerned. "Tomorrow at 5:52, Zoya darling."

"Don't go around darling me," she jested and walked towards the door. "I'll be here whenever I please."

Just before the doors opened, he called out, "Hey!" She turned to him and found his eyes blazed with intensity, but his tone was light, "I'm Aiman."
"Alright, Aiman darling, 5:52 tomorrow."
* * *