1
Every evening at exactly 5:40 PM, Aarav sat in the same bus.
Same route.
Same conductor.
Same passengers.
And the same empty seat beside the window.
No one was allowed to sit there.
Not because the seat was reserved.
Because Aarav politely refused… every single person.
“Sorry… someone sits here.”
People used to smile knowingly.
They thought — girlfriend.
But Aarav had never smiled back.
2
Three years ago, Aarav used to be different.
He laughed loudly.
He talked endlessly.
He was the kind of person who made strangers comfortable.
And every day… he waited at the bus stop for Meera.
She always ran toward the bus, slightly late, slightly breathless.
And always said the same line —
“Did you keep the window seat?”
Aarav would pretend to be annoyed.
“You’re lucky I did.”
She would grin.
“I know.”
They never confessed love.
But the entire bus knew.
3
One day, it rained heavily.
The city flooded.
Traffic jammed for hours.
Meera didn’t come.
Aarav waited.
One bus left.
Second left.
Third left.
At 7:10 PM he called her.
No answer.
At 7:45 PM — police sirens passed the road.
At 8:30 PM — her brother picked up the phone.
And everything inside Aarav ended in one sentence:
“There’s been an accident.”
4
The bridge had collapsed.
Half of it just… gave up under the rain.
Vehicles fell straight into the river.
Meera’s scooter was found the next morning.
Her bag was recovered.
Her phone too.
But Meera… was never found.
No body.
No funeral.
No goodbye.
Just absence.
5
People move on.
Aarav didn’t.
Next evening — he took the bus.
Sat beside the window.
And kept the seat next to him empty.
Because maybe…
maybe she was just late.
6
Days became months.
Months became years.
Passengers changed.
Drivers changed.
Conductors changed.
But Aarav didn’t.
And then one evening…
Someone finally sat there.
7
It was a little girl.
About 7 years old.
Two ponytails.
Blue frock.
Wet shoes.
She quietly sat beside him.
Aarav looked irritated.
“I’m sorry, this seat is taken.”
The girl looked at him calmly.
“I know.”
He frowned.
“Then why did you sit?”
She pointed outside the window.
“Because she asked me to.”
Aarav froze.
“Who?”
The girl smiled slightly.
“The one who stands there every day… after the bus leaves.”
8
The bus stopped at the next signal.
Aarav immediately stood up and looked outside.
Crowd.
Rain.
Vehicles.
Nothing else.
He turned back.
The girl was watching him carefully.
“She wears yellow… right?”
Aarav’s heartbeat rose.
“…what?”
“Yellow kurti. Wet hair. And she looks sad when you don’t look back.”
The world went silent.
9
“Where did you see her?” Aarav whispered.
The girl pointed behind the bus.
“Near the broken bridge road.”
His hands started shaking.
“That bridge is closed for three years.”
She nodded.
“Yes. That’s why she never crosses.”
10
Next day Aarav got down at the abandoned bridge road.
The place still felt heavy.
The barricades were rusty.
No vehicles passed anymore.
Wind howled through the railings.
And then…
He heard anklets.
Soft.
Familiar.
He slowly turned.
Nobody.
But near the edge…
Wet footprints appeared.
One by one.
Stopping right in front of him.
11
Tears rolled down his eyes.
“…Meera?”
Wind blew strongly.
And in that wind — a whisper.
Not in his ears.
Inside his chest.
“You never came that day.”
He collapsed to his knees.
“I was scared… I thought… I thought you were gone…”
“I waited.”
“I didn’t know you were alive!”
Long silence.
Then —
“I wasn’t.”
12
Aarav couldn’t breathe.
“I called you… many times… while drowning…”
His phone slipped from his hand.
“You didn’t pick up.”
His eyes widened.
That night…
He had silenced his phone.
Because he was angry she was late.
13
“I’m sorry…” he cried.
“I’m so sorry Meera…”
Cold wind circled him.
Warmer than air.
Colder than death.
“I waited three years… for you to come once.”
“I’m here now…”
“Yes.”
The whisper softened.
“Now I can go.”
Wind stopped.
Footprints faded.
The heaviness lifted.
For the first time in years…
The bridge felt empty.
14 (Next Day)
Aarav boarded the bus again.
Sat beside the window.
But this time…
He didn’t stop anyone.
The seat remained
