The Dream Girl
This is a heart-touching short story that blends romance, mystery, and destiny. Follow Nakul as he meets a mysterious girl on the metro, only to discover that reality and dreams are more connected than he ever imagined.
A Cold Monday Night
On a cold, chilly Monday, inside a server room stacked with countless hard disks arranged in rows, the racks glittered with red and green LEDs. As the clock ticked past midnight, Nakul handed over the shift to the next in-charge and began his walk home.
His office was just a short distance from Andheri Metro station, from where he would ride back to Ghatkopar.
Climbing the stairs of the station, Nakul was unaware that his life was about to change forever.
The platform was almost empty at that late hour. And then he froze.
Standing there was a girl in a dark blue party gown, stone-studded sandals on her feet, rose-shaped diamond earrings, a chain with a matching pendant, and a delicate diamond ring. She wore little makeup, but her cherry-red lips lit up her wheatish complexion and deep brown eyes. She looked like a model, ready to step onto a fashion runway.
Nakul was hypnotized. For a second, he thought he was dreaming. But as the train pulled in, she entered the same coach as Nakul and sat directly opposite him.
While she scrolled through her phone, Nakul alternated between staring at her and pretending to glance at his own. The short ride to Ghatkopar felt like the sweetest dream, but ended too quickly.
That night, Nakul walked home immersed in fantasies, dancing to romantic tunes only he could hear.
The Glow of a Newfound Happiness
The next morning, Nakul woke early, hit the gym, showered, and joined his parents for lunch. They immediately noticed his unusually cheerful mood.
His father teased, “Are you getting promoted, or what?”
“No!” Nakul laughed.
“Then why are you glowing? Did you propose to someone and she said yes?” his father pressed.
Nakul smiled, “No, Paa. I’m just happy.”
“Get married and make us happy too!” his mother chimed in.
“Come on, you two, let me enjoy this feeling a little longer,” Nakul replied with a grin.
The three of them laughed together.
Later that evening, Nakul sprayed on more cologne than usual, sang into his hairbrush, and left the house after sipping his mother’s spicy ginger tea. Even as he walked out, his thoughts were only of the mystery girl.
And once again, as his shift ended, he climbed the metro stairs with crossed fingers, hoping to see her.
And there she was.
This time, dressed in a black pant suit, black shoes, no makeup, no jewelry, and her hair tied in a simple bun — yet she looked effortlessly stunning.
Train after train, night after night, Nakul found her again. And each day felt merrier than the one before.
Gathering Courage
On a bright Friday morning, Nakul made a decision. That night, he would speak to her.
But when the clock struck midnight and he climbed the metro stairs, she wasn’t there.
The train arrived. His heart sank.
Instead of boarding, he waited for the last train of the night, hoping she was simply late. His heart pounded like a drum as the minutes ticked by.
Finally, as the last train slowed into the station, he turned toward the entrance one last time. And there she was — rushing in, radiant in a blue-and-white jumpsuit, white sneakers, her hair tied casually with a band, her lips painted a light baby pink.
She was, as always, breathtaking.
With only a few passengers in the coach, Nakul summoned his courage.
He stepped forward.
“Hi, I’m Nakul.”
She looked up, smiled warmly, and extended her hand.
“Hi, I’m—”
A deafening crash cut her off. The train screeched, slipped from the tracks, and plummeted from the pillars. Everything went black.
The Hospital Awakening
Machines beeped. A dim hospital room. Nakul’s eyelids fluttered.
The once-flat line on the monitor flickered back to life. His sister, scrolling Instagram, noticed the spikes and rushed for the on-call doctor.
Moments later, Dr. Dubey rushed in as Nakul’s heart rate stabilized. Slowly, Nakul opened his eyes. His parents arrived, overwhelmed with relief.
“Hi Maa, hi Paa,” Nakul whispered weakly.
“How are you feeling, beta?” his mother asked, brushing his hair gently.
“I feel weak… but what about the other people on the train?” Nakul asked in confusion.
His father frowned. “Which train?”
“The one that crashed yesterday,” Nakul replied.
His parents exchanged a look of shock. “Yesterday?” his father repeated.
“You’ve been in a coma for six months,” his mother revealed.
“What?” Nakul exclaimed.
“You were hit by a car while crossing the road after office. The driver lost control, hit another person, and then died on the spot,” his father explained grimly.
Nakul was stunned. His dream had felt so real. His heart sank as he realized the girl — his dream girl — might never have existed.
A Year Later
Time healed both his body and his heart. Nearly a year after waking up, Nakul received a call from Dr. Dubey.
“Nakul, a colleague of mine in London is studying coma recovery. They’d like to run some non-invasive tests. All expenses will be covered. Would you like to participate?”
After discussing with his parents and boss, Nakul agreed.
Two months later, he arrived in London.
The next morning, he was escorted to the hospital. In the waiting lounge, he sat down beside a young woman as he finished a call with his parents.
Turning his head casually, he froze. His heart stopped.
It was her.
The girl from his dreams.
He stood abruptly, shocked. “How is this possible? Am I dreaming? Am I in a coma again?”
The woman looked equally startled. She pinched his arm gently. “This is real. Don’t panic. But… do I know you? Because ever since I came out of a coma, I sometimes forget faces.”
Nakul’s breath caught. “You’re my dream girl,” he whispered.
“What?” she exclaimed.
“I mean… when I was in a coma, I dreamt of you. We used to ride the metro together. And just before you introduced yourself, the train crashed. That’s when I woke up.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh my God. That’s exactly what I dreamt too. I also saw us taking the same train night after night… until the crash.”
They stared at each other in disbelief.
Finally, she smiled softly. “By the way, I’m Mahima.”
Nakul’s eyes filled with wonder. “I knew it. You really are my dream girl.”
As they talked, they pieced together their shared dream—a metro, a crash in which the other victim was Mahima, a connection that defied explanation. Perhaps their comas, in the same Mumbai hospital months ago, had woven their subconscious minds together. Or perhaps it was fate.
For the first time since waking, Nakul felt whole. The dream girl was real, and their story was just beginning.
The End.
