No one talked about Platform Seven.
At Chandrima Station, platforms were numbered neatly from one to six. Seven existed only as a rumour—an unfinished stretch of concrete hidden beyond rusted tracks and warning signs. Porters crossed themselves when asked about it. Old vendors lowered their voices.
"Some places," they said, "are not meant for waiting."
Riya learned about it on a night when everything else went wrong.
Her office ran late, her phone battery died, and rain soaked the station in silver shadows. The last train announcement echoed and faded, leaving behind an unsettling silence. As she hurried across the platform, she noticed something impossible.
A light.
Far beyond the barriers, where darkness should have ruled, a single lamp glowed—soft, golden, steady. Drawn by curiosity more than courage, Riya followed the tracks until the air grew strangely warm.
A sign stood there, letters half-erased: PLATFORM SEVEN.
Beneath the lamp stood a man in an old-fashioned coat. His eyes held a familiarity that made her chest ache.
"You're early," he said gently.
"Early for what?" Riya asked, her voice trembling.
"For remembering."
Before she could step back, the light brightened, and the world shifted.
She was no longer standing in the station.
She was standing on a stage, reciting poetry to a cheering crowd. She was holding a child's hand on a crowded street. She was boarding ships, writing letters, falling in love, losing, healing, beginning again. Life after life unfolded—different faces, different eras, but the same soul.
Each life ended the same way.
A quiet station.
A glowing lamp.
Platform Seven.
The visions faded. Riya collapsed to her knees, breathless.
"What is this place?" she whispered.
The man smiled sadly. "A pause between lives. A reminder that you've been brave before—so you can be brave again."
The lamp flickered.
A distant whistle pierced the air.
"The train is coming," he said. "This time, you go on."
The light vanished. The platform dissolved into darkness.
Riya found herself standing on Platform Four as a train screeched to a halt. Passengers rushed past her, unaware that anything extraordinary had occurred.
As she boarded, something inside her felt different—stronger. Fear still existed, but it no longer ruled her.
And far away, beyond barriers and belief, Platform Seven waited—silent, glowing, patient—for the next soul who had forgotten how powerful they truly were.