Then she spoke—not loudly, not perfectly, but honestly.
“I used to think a train station was just a place people pass through. A stop, a delay, sometimes an ending. But lately, I’ve realized something else.” She paused. “Sometimes, a station is where you rest. Where you breathe. Where you begin again. And maybe, if you’re lucky, it becomes a place that feels a little like home.”
The room was silent for a moment. Then came applause—warm, real, from every direction.
In the back of the room, Callum watched her, his expression unreadable to most. But Sophie saw it. She ran up and slipped her hand into his.
“She was really scared, you know,” Sophie whispered. “But not anymore.”
Callum nodded slowly, never taking his eyes off Elara. “She doesn’t have to be,” he said. “Not anymore.”
The winter fair transformed the station into something close to magic. Garlands draped along the ticket counters. Warm lights blinked above the platforms. The smell of cinnamon and hot cocoa swirled between the echoes of announcements.
Elara stood near the photo booth set up by track three, bundled in a deep blue coat—new, but not store-bought. A handwritten tag inside read: To Elara, from all of us. You make this place better. — Team Station North.
She ran her hand over the sleeve with quiet reverence. It had been years since anyone gave her something without her having to earn it.
Sophie came skipping over, wearing a red velvet dress and a pair of felt antlers on her head. She clutched a small white envelope against her chest.
“Is Callum here?” she asked, eyes bright with mischief.
Elara scanned the crowd, and there he was, waiting by the snow-dusted platform—no suit today, just a thick knit scarf and his usual calm presence. Somehow, still looking slightly out of place among the streamers and cardboard reindeer…
