We knew each other from school. The kind of knowing where you recognize a face but never find a reason to talk.
Years later, a coincidence. She was in my city for a hackathon. I was heading home for the festivals. Same train. Same day.
Her ticket wasn't confirmed. I gave her my seat — H1, Cabin F, Seat 16 — and found somewhere else for the night.
Morning came. I went back. She was still there. The journey was long, thirty hours of India passing by the window.
By afternoon, the cabin emptied. Just the two of us. We talked through the evening. Watched the night arrive. Somewhere before dawn, we kissed.
She's been mine ever since.
Now, when we can't say it out loud, we say H1F16. It means what it means.