In Passing
by Heel
Copyright© 2025 by Heel
Romantic Story: When two trains pause side by side, a fleeting glance between strangers sparks an impossible longing. Yasen’s desperate chase after the girl on the other train becomes a race against chance itself—one that ends in pain, coincidence, and unexpected grace. In Passing is a tender story about missed moments, the stubbornness of hope, and the strange ways fate allows two lives to meet again.
Tags: Heterosexual Fiction Horror
The compartment was hot and sour with stale air, so Yasen stepped into the corridor for a breath of something clean. A few passengers leaned out of the open windows, smoking. From the shrubs and low trees along the tracks drifted a tender scent. Spring was in full bloom.
He decided to stay there until his legs began to ache.
The train slowed, shuddered, and stopped at a small station. At the same moment, another train crawled up on the neighboring track — perhaps they had to wait for the trains to pass.
Yasen sighed, irritated by the delay. But seconds later, his eyes caught on a girl standing at the window of the opposite train.
A vision.
A gentle face, long wavy chestnut hair tied in a loose ponytail, eyes that seemed to hold blue and green and perhaps a flicker of gray. Slender shoulders, softly rounded breasts, graceful hands resting idly.
He felt he could look at her forever. She was so beautiful it almost hurt. He knew it was impolite to stare, but he couldn’t stop himself — and he wasn’t usually one of those shameless men who ogled strangers.
She sensed it. Her head dipped, a blush blooming on her cheeks. They were only a few meters apart, yet it felt as though light years separated them.
Ashamed but strangely bold, Yasen said softly,
“Excuse me ... but you’re so beautiful I had to say it.”
She looked up and smiled — and suddenly the day grew brighter. His heart hammered in his chest, his head dizzy with wonder.
Then her train began to move. The smiling girl drifted slowly away.
Yasen froze, wide-eyed — he realized he would probably never see her again. He paced the narrow corridor like a caged animal, his chest full of fire and disappointment. Her smile faded, and the world dimmed.
He reached out instinctively toward her vanishing figure. Rage rose inside him — that life could be so stupidly, pointlessly cruel.
“What’s your name? Where are you going?” he shouted.
She called something back, but the clatter of the wheels drowned her words. All he caught was something like Mira.
Her name, perhaps. Or part of it — Krasimira, Stanimira, Branimira — who knew? If only he could be sure, he might find her online. Beautiful girls always had hundreds of followers.
He felt as though he’d lost someone he’d known forever. Then, suddenly, a wild impulse seized him. He dashed back into his compartment, grabbed his bag, and jumped off the train just as it began to move.
A uniformed man stared at him as if he’d lost his mind.
Yasen knew his half-crazed plan had almost no chance of working — but he had to try.
He ran toward the road behind the station. He would hitch a ride, overtake her train by car, and reach the next stop before it did. He waved frantically at passing vehicles, but no one stopped. The minutes slipped away mercilessly.
One car slowed, then sped off again — maybe the driver saw the madness in his eyes.Despair pressed down on him. Fifteen minutes gone already.
Then, with a squeal of brakes, a black BMW stopped in front of him.
“What’s wrong, son? Accident?” the driver called — a big man with long hair.
Yasen threw himself into the seat and babbled out the story.
“We’ll find her,” the man said with a sly grin, flooring the gas. They tore down the road at breakneck speed.
When they reached the next station, her train was just pulling in. Yasen shot out of the car like a cork from a bottle.
“Good luck!” the driver shouted after him.
Two hundred meters of gravel and grass lay between him and the platform. He ran flat out, heart pounding, knees trembling. He stumbled, fell, scrambled to his feet, and ran on.
The train began to move again, gathering speed.
Yasen shouted, a sound torn between despair and hope. He pushed himself harder, though he knew it was useless.
“I’ll try again,” he told himself. “To the next station.”
Then his legs tangled in a coil of wire. He pitched forward, striking his forehead against a rusty rail. Pain exploded. Through the blood blurring his vision, he saw the train shrinking into the distance. He tried to rise, but dizziness dragged him down. The light dimmed, as if the sun itself had set.
Just before he lost consciousness, he saw the girl’s smile and felt a vast, aching sadness.
He woke in a room of white walls. His head was wrapped tight, throbbing with pain. A doctor entered, tested his pupils and reflexes.
“Concussion,” he said gently. “You’ll live.”
“Good,” Yasen murmured. Only now did he realize how close he’d come to dying. But he didn’t regret it. When he was better, he’d find her. He wasn’t giving up.
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