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Blue Train

Story
Where Silence Breaks
The wind blew with the same rhythm as years ago, when the world still seemed to make sense. At a small train station on the outskirts of Bilbao, under a pearly gray sky, Ainhoa ​​stepped off the train with a suitcase and a heart full of scars. She expected nothing. Only to return to a place that had once been home.
As she walked toward the exit, she saw him.
Gael.
The same slow gait, the gaze that seemed to read constellations, but now with shadows under his eyes and a slight limp he hadn't had before. He saw her too. And for a moment, time stopped. Not by magic, but by the weight of what was left unsaid.
"Ainhoa..." he whispered, as if the name hurt.
"Gael," she replied, not knowing whether to smile or cry.
They sat on a wooden bench, the same one where they used to share sandwiches and teenage dreams. The silence between them was thick, but not awkward. It was the kind of silence that only two souls who know each other deeply can share.
"What happened to you?" she asked, pointing at her leg.
"An expedition in Nepal. A detachment. I lost more than mobility... I lost a part of myself," he said, without drama, but with truth.
"I lost my mother. And myself, for a time. I went to Lisbon, then to Salvador de Bahía. Searching for something I couldn't name."
They both looked at each other. They weren't the same. But something, an invisible thread, still united them.
"Do you remember that night in San Juan, when we promised that if life separated us, fire would reunite us?" Gael said.
Ainhoa ​​nodded. And without another word, she took a small box out of her bag. Inside, two pieces of paper burned around the edges. Handwritten promises.
"I never threw them away," she whispered.
The train roared again in the distance. But neither of them moved. Because sometimes, the real journey begins when two wounded souls recognize each other, not for what they were, but for what they can still be.

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