The boy sat by the window of a busy, crowded train that he had caught at the very last minute. Thanks to his friend, who had pedaled him all the way to the station on his bicycle, breathless, just in time. Outside, trees, buildings, and people flew past. But he wasn’t really watching them. His eyes were open, but his heart was far away — lost in a memory that made him smile without even realizing it. Just last night, something beautiful had happened. The girl he liked, the one who had slowly become the center of his world had told him over a call something simple, yet powerful. “I feel like meeting you for some reason… and I feel like missing you.” Those words echoed in his mind like music. He had waited so long to hear something like that. And now, he was finally going to see her again. But this time, something inside him said — it wouldn’t be just as a friend. As the train rolled forward, his thoughts quietly drifted back — to where it all began. He remembered the first time he heard about her. It was just another noisy day at his polytechnic college. The halls were full of laughter, loud footsteps, and the usual chaos. He was walking past the familiar grilled window with a few of his friends when someone pointed and said: “That’s her — the girl everyone’s been talking about.” Curious, he asked, “Which one?” “Fourth from the left,” they said. But he ended up looking at the fourth girl from the right instead. Later in class, his friends asked, “So? What do you think?” He shrugged. “She’s alright. You guys hyped her up too much.” They looked at him like he had gone mad. “What? Are you blind?” He laughed. “Okay, okay. Chill. Lunch break is over anyway.” The next day, they dragged him back there again. This time, they were more specific. “Look properly — fourth from the left, not the right,” one of them said, a bit annoyed. “The one on the right is Jenni. And it’s not her we were talking about.” Then he saw her correctly for the first time. She was sitting with her friends, talking, laughing softly. Nothing dramatic. No butterflies, no slow-motion moment, and no Ilayaraja song playing in the background. But something quietly shifted inside him — a small, strange feeling. A thought whispered gently: Could she be the one? As if on cue, one of his friends said, “Okay, enough. Lunch break’s over.” Before walking away, he asked, “Hey, what’s her name?” “Some Farhana,” one said. Another corrected him: “Shrien Farhana.” He remembered that name like a song. Not just any song — a specific Ilayaraja song. And now, here he was — smiling to himself on a moving train, his phone playing softly in his pocket: 🎵 “Vaa Vennila… Unnai Thaane Vaanam Theduthe…”🎵 The train halted at a small station. From his seat, he could see a stall outside selling chocolates. That sight brought back another memory — one he could never forget. Their first real conversation. It was in the polytechnic college — a place where boys and girls talking freely was usually frowned upon. He was chatting with a friend near the stairs when he heard a soft voice call out: “Neenga thaana Gowtham?” He froze. He didn’t know what to say or even if he had heard it right. For a moment, he stood there like he had forgotten his own name. Then he found his voice. “Amam, naan thaan… Neenga thaana Shrien?” “Amam,” she smiled. “I’m giving these to my friends. Here — one for you!” She handed him a chocolate bar. Munch, it said on the cover. He took it carefully, making sure not to touch her fingers. Trying to stretch the moment, he asked, “So… why chocolate?” He already had a guess, but still wanted to hear it from her. “Just like that,” she said. “It’s the first time I scored first in the class. So… a small treat.” “Oh I see. Congrats, Shrien.” “Thanks, Gowtham.” He had never been this thankful to his mother for naming him Gowtham. And he had never really liked Munch before that moment  and never ever disliked it after. Now, as he munching over those memories with a quiet smile, the train finally pulled into Trichy station. She was waiting for him outside. His heart raced — not just with excitement, but with a quiet thrill. Because he couldn’t wait to ask what she really meant when she said she felt like missing him. To be continued… By Gowtham