Kendra glanced at the clock on her computer screen — fifteen minutes past five. The office was empty except for the cleaning crew, and they were winding down. She should have been gone already, but her inbox—like her thoughts—was cluttered. She clicked through a few emails, barely registering the words.

Her gaze drifted to the train schedule on her desk.

Her inbox contained a stack of letters needing her signature. Her mind weighed their importance. Would mailing them tomorrow make a difference? Probably not.

Anticipation bubbled within her as she nibbled at her lower lip. Maybe her mystery man would be there. She decided — if she left now, she could catch the early train.

Grabbing her coat and scarf, she rushed out, weaving through the crowd of office workers eager to leave their workday behind. The crisp December air bit at her cheeks as she reached the station, buzzing with commuters.

The holiday rush was in full swing at the station. Lights strung along the platform reflected off icy puddles, and a busker played "Jingle Bells" on a saxophone, the notes cheerful but slightly off-key.

Kendra scanned the faces in the crowd as she waited for the train, her heart doing a little leap every time someone in a dark coat stepped into view.

As the train pulled in, she stepped aboard, scanning each seat, anticipating seeing him. A wave of disappointment crashed over her as the doors closed, and she realized—he wasn't there.

She slumped into a seat by the window, staring blankly through the glass as the train lurched forward. The soft twinkle of holiday lights outside did little to lift her spirits. The rhythmic clatter of the tracks usually soothed her, but tonight, it only emphasized the silence in her mind.

Was it all in her head? Had he been playing with her feelings, never intending to meet her again? Her thoughts gnawed at her, fueling her self-doubt.

The remainder of the trip home was filled with silent thoughts of how foolish she had been to make something out of nothing. It was totally out of character for her, and she quickly reminded herself of the fact.

*****

As the train slowed and pulled into the station at Kendra's stop, her phone buzzed, jolting her out of her thoughts. She pulled it from her pocket. Rachel's name and photo flashed on the screen.

"Hey, Kendra!" Rachel's cheery voice greeted her. "Don't forget — tonight's the big night!"

Kendra groaned, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. "Rachel, I don't think—"

"The four of us are meeting at La Rue Bistro at seven. You promised!"

"It's been a long day, and I don't —"

"Oh no, you are not bailing on me!" Rachel interrupted, her playful tone gone. "I promise it'll be fun. Think of it as a festive double date. Plus, I hear Tim is really into Christmas movies — he's practically Buddy the Elf."

Kendra sighed. "Fine. But if he starts quoting Elf, I'm leaving early."

Rachel laughed. "Deal. See you soon!"

Hanging up, Kendra shoved her phone back into her pocket.

I Might as well get this over with.

But as she trudged home to get ready, her mind wandered back to the train and the stranger she'd hoped to see again.

*****

Later that evening, Kendra joined Rachel, her date with Mark, and his co-worker Tim at the restaurant. The place was charming in a way that made Kendra feel underdressed. String lights cast a warm glow over the wooden tables, and the faint scent of cinnamon lingered in the air. A soft instrumental version of Jingle Bells played in the background, adding to the festive atmosphere.

She spotted Rachel and the two men seated at the table and hurried toward them. As she joined the trio, Rachel announced with a flourish and a wave of her hand, "Kendra, this is Tim."

Tim extended his hand. He had a firm handshake and a nice enough smile — not bad-looking. Yet her thoughts reminded her it wasn't him—the stranger she couldn't get out of her mind.

They made polite small talk, mostly about work and holiday plans. Tim was charming, but Kendra's attention kept wandering—to the lights outside, the swirl of her wine, the imaginary conversation she might be having with someone else.

Rachel nudged her under the table. "So, what do you think?"

"Of dinner? Delicious," Kendra replied with a too-bright smile.

Rachel rolled her eyes. She leaned close and whispered, "You've been moping for weeks. It's the holidays, for goodness' sake. You need some cheer — and maybe a little romance."

Kendra rolled her eyes and hissed, "I'm not looking for romance."

"He's a real catch," Rachel insisted.

Kendra's gaze strayed to Mark and Tim as they talked shop, and she turned back to Rachel and wrinkled her nose. "I came, didn't I? I'll do my best to enjoy everyone's company, but I'm not promising you anything."

As if Rachel had kicked his foot under the table, Mark and Tim stopped talking and turned their attention to the girls.

Tim — or was it Tom? — leaned forward. His smile was warm and friendly, much like the one she'd shared with the maitre'd. "So, Kendra, what do you do?"

"I work in publishing," she said automatically, stirring her butternut squash soup topped with a festive swirl of whipping cream. "Nothing glamorous. Mostly deadlines and too much coffee."

"Ah, deadlines. I know that life," he said with a chuckle. "I'm an accountant. Tax season is its own kind of crazy."

Kendra forced a smile. He seemed nice — like a gift card to a store you don't shop at. While Rachel and Mark danced, she listened and nodded as he talked about balance sheets and year-end reviews, but her mind wandered to the train and the stranger.

The energy of their brief encounter, the way his laugh had felt like sunlight breaking through a cold December sky, the butterflies she felt every time she envisioned those piercing blue eyes.

Tim paused, noticing her distraction. "What about you? Any hobbies?"

She blinked, pulling herself back into the conversation. "Uh, I dabble in sketching," she said, the words feeling hollow. Their conversation drifted on, polite but uninspired, like a holiday party you couldn't leave soon enough. Rachel winked at her BFF as she pulled Mark onto the dance floor for "one more little dance."

After dessert—a perfectly shaped gingerbread mousse — she hugged Rachel, said goodbye to Mark, and turned to thank Tim. However, he insisted on walking her to the curb, where he hailed her a cab.

Kendra's stomach tightened into a knot as her mind raced. He doesn't think we're sharing a cab, does he? Mentally, she scoffed at the thought. He knows we just met, but —

As the cab pulled to the curb, he opened the door and smiled. "I had a great time, Kendra. Let's do this again?"

She hesitated, guilt pressing on her chest like the chill in the air. "Sure. I'll call you," she said, knowing she wouldn't, and added, "Or maybe Mark and Rachel will meet us again."

She pulled her coat tighter as he disappeared down the snowy street and sighed. The faint jingling of bells from a street performer echoed in the distance. "Why am I comparing him to someone I don't even know?" she muttered, kicking at a stray chunk of snow.

She climbed into the waiting cab, thankful to go home alone.

*****

Back at her apartment, Kendra kicked off her snow-dusted boots and collapsed onto the couch. The faint scent of pine from the small tree in the corner mingled with the cinnamon-scented candle flickering on the mantle. Her phone buzzed — a text from Rachel.

As Kendra read Rachel's text, the night's disappointment — or was it relief — washed over her. "So? How was it? Is he boyfriend material?"

Kendra sighed and typed a quick reply. "Nice guy, but no spark." She tossed the phone onto the coffee table, letting her head fall against the cushions.

Her gaze drifted to the tiny twinkling lights she'd half-heartedly hung around her bookshelf. The holidays were supposed to be magical, weren't they? Yet, here she was, feeling more out of sync than ever, a stark contrast to the festive atmosphere.

Her purse gaped open on the coffee table, and a slip of paper poked out. She recognized the train schedule.

She reached for it, sighing as her fingers lingered over the crumpled page. "Same time Tomorrow," he'd said.

She folded the paper carefully and tucked it into her drawer, her heart caught between hope and doubt.

As she gazed at the softly glowing tree in the corner, a chorus of uncertainty whispered in her head, "What if?"

"Maybe Tomorrow," she whispered to no one in particular, her voice tinged with a glimmer of hope.

The thought brought a flicker of a smile. Small, but enough to carry her to bed.

*****

Kendra glared at the alarm clock, its shrill buzz filling the room. She had a restless night's sleep, and morning didn't seem appealing. She sighed, tossed off the comforter, and silenced the annoying alarm.

The aroma of freshly brewing coffee directed her shuffling feet toward the kitchen. Red mugs with jolly snowmen painted on the side stood on the shelf awaiting her. Taking one, she sighed and poured herself a cup, inhaling the cinnamon brew. "Best thing I ever bought." She'd debated the purchase, considering the cost and its over-the-top indulgence, but in the end, the thought of coffee waiting for her in the morning was more than she could resist. She'd never been a "rise and shine" girl, but the caffeine gave her a much-needed jolt to start the morning.

The phone ringing interrupted her as she savored the first sips of coffee. Her gaze darted to the clock on the stove, and she muttered, "Now what? Who calls this early in the morning?"

She shook her head and set the mug on the counter as she shuffled down the hall toward her bedroom to get her cell, passing Rachel's opened bedroom door. The bed showed no signs of having been slept in. Kendra smiled. "Well, someone must have had a good night."

By the time she reached the door of her room, her cell had stopped ringing. She hurried toward the nightstand and picked up the phone, jumping as it rang again.

The screen told her it was her assistant, Lacey.

"Good morning, Lacey. What's up?"

Lacey's voice was hushed when she spoke. "It's Mr. Baker."

Her boss's face flashed through Kendra's mind as she asked, "Why are you whispering?"

"Because he's in your office and holding Bob Layton's manuscript in his hands."

Still unable to grasp the gravity of the situation, Kendra asked, "What's he doing with it?"

"Kendra, you are supposed to meet with Mr. Layton this morning. Did you forget?"

Kendra gasped. Forget? She'd never done that, but it was apparent she had. "Lacey, I need you to cover for me. Can you do that?"

"Of course! What do you want me to say?"

"Tell him I hadn't been feeling well, and I'd forgotten to take the manuscript with me when I left. Assure him I fully intend to meet with Mr. Layton and that you are sending me the file by courier, so I can go directly to the hospital." Kendra sighed. "Who demands a meeting from their hospital bed, anyways?"

"I'm on it! I'll call Larry in the mailroom. He'll have it to you in thirty minutes. Your meeting isn't for another two hours so you'll have plenty of time. Do you need anything else?"

"No, I've got my notes on my laptop. So we're good. Thanks, Lacey, I owe you. You're the best."

"That's my job." But Kendra could hear the smile in Lacey's voice as the phone call ended.

*****

The hospital lobby smelled faintly of antiseptic and over-brewed coffee. Kendra cradled the bouquet of daisies in her arms, their cheery yellow and white blooms an impulsive grab before hailing a cab. She’d never meet Mr. Layton face to face, but she figured cheerful flowers might brighten his day.

She found his room quickly. They hashed over changes he wanted to make for the next hour, despite the manuscript already being approved for publication. With time to reflect, he’d decided the ending needed a different twist. Kendra smiled through her frustration, recording his thoughts on her phone while the steady beeping of his monitor underscored the conversation.

Kendra wished him a speedy recovery and promised to have the team on it as soon as he submitted the new draft. She thanked him for his time, said goodbye, and headed for the elevators.

The elevator doors opened to the lobby, and she stepped out. Her mind was already moving to the next task, but then she saw him.

Sitting in a wheelchair near the entrance, the man from the train looked so different. A white bandage wrapped his head, and dark shadows circled his eyes, which no longer had the spark she remembered.

Kendra froze, clutching the strap of her bag as her heart raced. Relief swept through her first — he was alive. But confusion quickly followed. What had happened to him?

Before she could gather the courage to approach him, someone else did. A striking woman in a long, dark coat breezed in, her heels clicking softly against the tiled floor. She knelt beside him, her hand brushing his shoulder, her concern evident.

Kendra’s chest tightened. She watched as the woman helped him stand and guided him into the passenger seat of a sleek black car parked just outside. There was a closeness in how they moved—a familiarity that made Kendra’s stomach twist.

The woman said something that drew a faint smile to his lips before she closed the car door and walked around to the driver’s side.

Kendra stood rooted to the spot, her mind racing.

“Figures,” she muttered, the corners of her mouth pulling into a bitter smile.

Her eyes stung, but she fought back the tears. She didn’t even know him, but he felt like something special in that fleeting moment on the train. And now, seeing him with her — it was as if that fragile hope she’d been holding onto had been cruelly snatched away.

“I’m ridiculous,” she whispered, biting her lip. “This was never a thing. I don’t even know his name.

She turned toward the exit, her steps heavy. Still, as she walked back to her car, fragments of the moment replayed in her mind. The way the woman touched him, her effortless beauty, and the easy way he smiled at her.

Was she his wife? His girlfriend? A friend? Kendra despised herself for wishing it was the latter.

Her pace quickened as she pushed the thought away. She didn’t even know him. And yet, she wished she could stop hoping — somehow, she’d been wrong about what she saw.