The faint golden glow of dawn crept through the narrow windows of the cottage, casting long, sleepy shadows across the room. Aaryaksh stood by the wooden desk, zipping up the last compartment of his backpack. The quietness of the morning was broken only by the soft rustle of paper and the occasional metallic clink of buckles snapping shut. Despite the lingering fatigue from last night's farewell dinner, his mind was awake — alert, perhaps a little too early, yet not restless.
It was 4:10 a.m.
The village still slumbered in silence, tucked beneath misty folds of the Himalayan breeze. Aaryaksh took a deep breath, letting the fresh and crisp air fill his lungs. There was something peaceful about this hour — like the world was on pause before the chaos of another day. With everything in order, he stepped outside, his boots crunching against the dew-soaked grass, and waved down the bullock cart he had arranged earlier.
No cab agreed to ride into such a remote stretch early this morning, and honestly, Aaryaksh didn't mind the rustic pace. The cart rolled gently down the dusty trail, the wooden wheels creaking like an old lullaby. As he sat on the straw-padded bench, he let his eyes wander to the pink-tinted horizon, reflecting on how much had changed during his stay here. He was leaving with far more than he'd come with — research notes, local insight, and strangely enough, a few faces that had etched themselves into his memory.
He reached the station half an hour before the Darjeeling Mail was scheduled to arrive. The place was quiet but not deserted; a few vendors were opening their stalls, and early travelers sat quietly, cradling their thermos flasks and tiffin boxes like tired rituals. Aaryaksh settled onto one of the wooden benches on the far side of the platform, his duffel and luggage by his feet, and sank into silence.
But fate, it seemed, had no intention of leaving him alone today.
Two familiar silhouettes approached from the mist — beautiful, confident, and unmistakably feminine.
Vaidehi and Kiyana.
Even from a distance, they looked strikingly different today. Vaidehi had ditched her tomboyish taxi driver getup and now wore sleek brown cargo pants paired with a loose white shirt, tucked just enough to reveal a narrow waistline and when she walked you could faintly see a hint of her toned midriff exposed from her belly button. With a floral neck bow stretched to her full chest.
A black fedora sat tilted atop her head, along with sunglasses giving her an effortlessly commanding presence with a long ponytail and on light makeup with rosy face and delicate red lips.
And Kiyana? How could she be any less. She had traded her frilly dresses and awkward heels for something smarter — black skinny jeans, a white fitted tee that cupped her soft curves snugly, and a tailored dark grey jacket just big enough to barely cover her striking pair of headlights. Long black boots stretched up her calves, matching Vaidehi's almost exactly. The two of them looked like they belonged on a fashion editorial rather than the dusty platform of a rural train station.
While Vaidehi was holding a quite expensive lv bag on her left hand while pulling her luggage effortlessly by her right hand.
Kiyana was struggling to pull her suitcase with both of her hands.
Both are looking quite out of world. This kind of beauty in pure style not only Aaryaksh, but some collage students and youngsters couldn't help but look.
"Morning, stranger," Kiyana chirped as she approached, her voice light but teasing.
Aaryaksh smiled faintly. "Morning," he replied, trying not to let his gaze linger too obviously.
"I didn't think we'd be seeing you again so soon," Vaidehi added, while stretching her folded arms for a hand shake, and her dark eyes scanning him with amusement.
The snow white arms were displayed generously, and the more striking thing was the pair combined with the effect of loose shirt ready to bulge out.
"I could say the same," he nervously replied while shaking her hand. Trying hard to maintain eye contact
"Let me guess, you're both heading to Dehradun?"
Kiyana's eyes lit up. "How'd you know?!"
"Just a hunch," he replied coolly.
Their laughter was soft, but it caught the attention of a few nearby passengers looking Aaryaksh with jealousy. The three of them stood there for a moment, letting the awkwardness dissolve as naturally as the morning fog.
"Where are you headed?" Kiyana asked, settling beside him on the bench.
"Dehradun," he answered truthfully.
She blinked while rolling her eyes.
"Seriously? That's our destination too. As you guessed earlier but where in Dehradun."
There was a pause. A shadow flickered in his eyes, but he masked it with a neutral smile. "I'm...from there originally. But I live independently now. My family and I—well, let's just say we're not too close anymore. So not any specific destination."
Kiyana tilted her head curiously. "So you're like some kind of...runaway prince?"
He chuckled dryly. "Something like that."
Sitting beside Vaidehi asked with a raised eyebrow. "What do you do in Dehradun, Aaryaksh?"
"Nothing specific just returning for a job interview for teaching treatment by ancient Ayurveda and martial art techniques."
But Aaryaksh couldn't help but peep the bulge covered with big black bra inside vaguely visible from her loose white shirt. He nervously turned his head from her direction.
Quite a few drops of sweat could be easily seen in his forehead due to two gorgeous women sitting on his both sides.
"What about you two?" he asked, steering the topic away from himself.
Kiyana puffed her bulging chest slightly with pride. "I teach psychology at a private arts college in Dehradun."
"She's being modest," Vaidehi interrupted. "She's more like a borderline tyrant in the classroom."
Kiyana shot her a playful glare.
"And you?" Aaryaksh turned to Vaidehi.
"She owns the college," Kiyana answered before Vaidehi could.
Aaryaksh blinked, startled. "You own the college? But you said you were driving a taxi the other day…"
Vaidehi's lips curved into a cryptic smile. "Our family runs a transport enterprise. More than sixty percent of Sikkim's local taxis belong to our fleet. I manage the college as part of a separate family trust."
The revelation left Aaryaksh silent for a moment. He was impressed — genuinely. Beneath her tough exterior was a sharp, accomplished woman who clearly didn't like wearing her status on her sleeve.
"And you, professor," he said, turning to Kiyana again. "how you tow had met?"
"My father was the mayor. Vaidehi and I have been childhood friends — and she helped me get the job."
"But I still have to earn a permanent position," she added quickly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "It's not a free ride."
Their conversation drifted easily after that, spanning topics from literature to food, campus gossip to train travel quirks. The moments felt natural — unforced, a subtle rhythm beginning to form between them.
Eventually, the distant whistle of the Darjeeling Mail sliced through the air. The platform stirred. Porters hoisted luggage, announcements crackled through old speakers, and roaring engine could be heard faintly in the distance.
The girls excused themselves to fetch their bags while Aaryaksh waited near the coach boarding zone.
As the train pulled in, he discovered a hiccup in his plans — he had booked a private coupe, but due to last-minute ticketing, his reservation had shifted to a shared coach. Though he didn't mind. It is just he have to be a little low profile, just not to startle the passenger beside him with his weird works.