The board blinked RED DELAYED. My ticket said Vienna, Platform 9. The woman next to me checked hers: Venice, also Platform 9. "That's not..." she started. "Impossible," I finished. The announcement: both trains stuck, no time. We looked at each other. "This feels personal," she said. I laughed. "Like the universe is deciding for us."

She smiled first. "I'm Alex. Venice, if this board ever figures itself out." She had this worn-out kindness, like she'd already decided the day would be weird. "Theo. Vienna. And yeah, the day's definitely weird now." She laughed. "Want coffee while we wait? I could use someone who gets it."

We settled on a bench and she just started talking. Bad breakup. Worse job. The trip was supposed to reset her. I told her my version — burnout, the need to disappear. "Two weeks," I said. "That's all I gave myself." She looked at me. "What if it's not enough time?"

"Then you come back," I said. "And you figure it out next time." She shook her head. "I mean what if two weeks isn't enough to know if... if something is real." She wasn't talking about Venice anymore. She was talking about us. My hand found hers. "Then we find out together."

"All passengers to Venice, please board from Platform 7," the speaker said. She didn't move. "I have to go," she whispered. "July 24th," I said. "Afternoon train. Same station." She squeezed my hand once, hard. "I believe you." Then she was walking toward Platform 7. I watched until she disappeared. Two weeks suddenly felt like a promise we'd keep.