Selene hadn't meant to end up on that train.
She hadn't meant to do a lot of things, lately.
She'd packed in a hurry, tossing in clothes without folding, leaving her phone charger and half her notebooks behind. It hadn't mattered. She just needed to go. Somewhere far enough from her hometown, from the people who looked at her like she was fragile glass, from the memories that scratched beneath her skin.
Perpignan had sounded like a whisper. Soft. Forgettable.
That was what she needed—to forget, or be forgotten. Either one.
She'd chosen the window seat because she always did. Something about watching the world pass by made her feel less stuck. And when the train pulled away, she let her forehead rest against the cool glass, her breath fogging tiny shapes she didn't bother wiping away.
The man who had gotten on late hadn't registered at first. Just footsteps, a laugh, the rush of someone who still felt alive. She'd thought, briefly, how foreign that sounded.
But now, he sat a few seats across.
She'd seen the camera when he raised it. Through the corner of her eye, the faint click. She hadn't moved, though her pulse had picked up—just slightly. Not because she was uncomfortable. But because she wondered what she looked like through someone else's lens.
He didn't take the picture of her, not really. It was the window. The light.
She told herself that.
But when she glanced at his reflection in the glass, he wasn't looking outside anymore.
He was looking at her.
And he smiled.
It wasn't the kind that asked for anything. Not flirtatious. Not curious. Just… there. Easy. Like a person smiling to themselves in a dream.
Selene blinked and looked away. Her fingers tugged at the sleeve of her sweater, twisting the fabric around her thumb.
She didn't know him.
Didn't want to.
She closed her eyes.
& The train kept moving.
Evan watched her longer than he meant to.
Not in a weird way—he told himself that. There was just… something about her stillness. The way she stared out the window like she was somewhere else entirely. Like she didn't belong to the moment at all.
He rubbed his thumb along the lens cap of his camera, thinking. Then, without a second guess, he stood up and slid into the empty seat beside her.
Not too close. Just close enough.
"Hey," he said softly, offering a small smile. "Mind if I sit?"
She didn't answer. Just glanced at him, briefly. Her expression unreadable, but not unkind.
He sat anyway.
The train rumbled beneath them. Outside, fields blurred into forest.
"I'm Evan," he said with a smile.
Still no response.
Her eyes returned to the window.
Evan chuckled under his breath. "Tough crowd."
He looked out too, hands resting on his camera. "This your first time going to Perpignan?" he asked, voice low, like he wasn't trying to make conversation — just offering it, in case she wanted to take it.
She was quiet for so long he thought she wasn't going to speak at all.
Then, finally, she murmured, "I'm not going. I'm leaving."
It wasn't an answer.
But it was something.
Evan turned his head to look at her again. Her profile was sharper up close. Beautiful, yes—but in a distant way. Like a story that already ended.
He didn't ask what she meant.
Didn't ask what she was leaving.
Instead, he just nodded and said, "Fair enough."
They sat in silence again.
The rest of the ride passed in silence.
Evan stayed beside her, not saying much. He wasn't sure if she wanted him to or not.
For a moment, it felt like the kind of quiet that didn't need to be filled.
Then the train pulled into Perpignan.
The brakes hissed and the world jerked to a slow stop. Before the doors had even fully opened, she stood up, grabbing her small bag and stepping into the aisle with quick, almost panicked movements.
She didn't look at him.
Didn't say goodbye.
Evan blinked, watching her move fast through the thinning crowd.
She just wanted to be gone.
When he glanced back at the seat, he noticed something. A slim, beaten-up book left behind—pages folded at the edges, the title worn off the cover.
He picked it up, flipping through the first few pages. Notes scribbled in the margins. A poem underlined twice.
He looked up again, saw the dark blur of her hair disappearing past the train doors.
"Hey—wait up!" he called out, weaving through passengers.
But she didn't stop.
Didn't turn.
She disappeared into the crowd, swallowed by the station's noise and movement like she'd never been there at all.
Evan stood there for a moment, book in hand, a little confused. A little amused. A little... pulled.
With a sigh, he slipped the book into his backpack.
A voice called out behind him.
"Late as always," someone said, and when Evan turned, a grinning guy with wind-tossed hair and a loud printed shirt was waving at him from near the platform stairs. "Thought you'd miss the damn train again."
Evan laughed and walked over. "Missed it by five seconds, made it by two."
"That your new thing? Almost dying for trains?"
"No, man," Evan grinned, patting his backpack. "Just... found something interesting this time."
"Found a stunning boulevard with trees, cafes, restaurants and of course the one thing you love nightlife. That's what you found."
"Sounds perfect."
They chuckled, slapped hands, and headed for the exit. Outside, the sky was soft and overcast, the sea breeze faint but present.
The cab pulled up, and they threw their bags in.
As Evan settled into the back seat, he pulled out the book again. Let his fingers rest on the cover.
She had a name written inside, in small, delicate letters.
Selene.
He said it once under his breath.
"Is that the interesting thing you found?" Adam asked as he leaned in dramatically. "Is it a travel diary? A smuggled artifact? A secret recipe book passed down by monks in the Pyrenees?"
Evan gave a lazy smile and flipped the book closed. "Just a book."
Adam blinked. "Just a book? You stared at it like it whispered your name in a French accent."
Evan said nothing, just tapped the cover once, as if that explained everything.
Adam squinted. "Wait… is this about a girl?"
"Nope."
"You're lying."
"I'm breathing."
"Evan."
He turned to the window, biting back a grin. "Get some sleep, Adam."
Adam crossed his arms with mock offense. "I'm going to find out. I always do."
"Sure, detective. But not today."