The evening bus rattled along the crowded road, humming with tired conversations and the low growl of the engine.
Advik leaned back in his seat near the window, headphones pressed firmly over his ears. Music wasn't just entertainment for him — it was protection. Without it, the world was too loud. Not outside… but inside people's heads.
He closed his eyes and let the rhythm fill the noise.
At the next stop, someone took the seat in front of him.
A girl.
A soft breeze slipped through the half-open bus window, brushing past her as she sat down. Strands of her black hair lifted and danced in the wind, settling again against her shoulders. She adjusted her bag, unaware of the quiet chaos around her.
Advik didn't look up. He had learned not to pay attention to strangers.
But fate didn't ask him.
A few minutes later, his music suddenly cut off.
Battery dead.
He sighed and pulled the headphones down to his neck.
And then it started.
Did I message mom back? I think I forgot…
Tomorrow's assignment… oh no, I still didn't finish it.
What if I never get the job I want?
Should I travel someday? Maybe after saving money…
Why is that couple sitting opposite like that… seriously people…
Ugh… still single… great.
This bus better not crash. Why do I always imagine accidents? Stop it Tara, stop thinking stupid things…
Advik froze.
The thoughts weren't random background noise like everyone else's.
They were fast. Layered. Endless. Like a storm.
He slowly raised his eyes to the back of her seat.
Tara…
He didn't know her name, yet somehow the flow of her thoughts carried it.
Her mind didn't whisper.
It overflowed.
I wonder who's sitting behind me…
Advik stiffened.
And then—
What if that person could hear everything I'm thinking? That would be SO embarrassing.
His breath caught.
For the first time in years…
someone had unknowingly thought the exact thing he was doing.
He stared at the back of her seat, completely still.
The noise of the bus faded.
The chatter of other minds blurred away.
Only her thoughts remained.
The bus slowed.
"Next stop!" the conductor shouted.
Tara quickly gathered her bag and stood. The evening wind rushed in again as the doors opened, lifting her black hair lightly around her face before she stepped down onto the street.
And just like that—
Her thoughts vanished.
Silence.
Advik sat there long after the bus moved again.
He had heard thousands of minds in his life.
Fear. Anger. Lies. Secrets.
But never…
someone whose thoughts felt so alive.
He didn't even understand why his chest felt strangely empty now.
He didn't know her.
Didn't speak to her.
Didn't even see her face properly.
Yet one quiet, confusing question stayed with him all the way home:
Why do I feel like I just lost something?