People. Everywhere I looked, there were so many people.

As I hurried through the crowd, my neck craned in every direction, my eyes shifting impossibly fast as I searched for the woman who had run out on me. From the corner of my eye, I saw a hijabi, and I immediately made my way over. Upon closer inspection, however, I realized she was a little too short and she was wearing pink, Wahaj never wears pink.

I allowed my eyes to scan through the sea of faces again, and then I spotted another Hijabi, but she was with an older guy, so I searched again. At this rate, she could have arrived, and I could've been wasting my time.

As more time passed, I began feeling more and more hopeless, and I still had no clue where to find her. At this point, I wanted to announce over the PA system to have everyone just sit down on the floor and holler, 'Would the real Wahaj Muhammad please stand up!'

Honestly, I couldn't even allow myself to think about what I would say to her if I found her. I wouldn't know where to even begin! Would I start by apologizing? Or by explaining her my reasons?

I couldn't understand why she left without even saying goodbye.

But none of my thoughts or worries would matter if I couldn't even find the woman who seemed to have all the answers already figured out in her head. Whatever the future holds for her, I'm not part of it as far as she's concerned. And that thought hurts, more than I could ever say. I couldn't even imagine a life without Wahaj and my child in it.

Her departure left me shaken to my very core and I was left questioning everything I've ever known, everything that I took for granted once upon a time. I wanted this game to over, but it wasn't over. I need to tell her that the game was over.

My steps faltered as I realized that I was already at the end of the platform, and she was nowhere to be found. She must have already embarked onto the southbound train long before I arrived. Hope demanded I check again, though, so I circled and started my way back to the other side because as long as the train hadn't left, I still had it.

And then just as I was beginning to lose hope, the crowd parted, and there she was, standing stock still with her luggage bags on the floor beside her, looking straight at me as if she wasn't at all surprised to see me standing there. The moment I saw her, my movements halted.

It could have been seconds, it might even have been hours, but there we were; just standing there, six feet apart, eyes locked on each other. I was afraid even to blink, let alone make a move for fear of losing her in the crowd again.

Suddenly, my feet were carrying me toward her on their own and in the next moment, I had her in my arms. I wrapped them around her so tightly that I was worried for a second that I'd suffocate her, but then she returned my embrace.

I poured all my feelings, my longing, my heart, everything I had into that one slow kiss, hoping that it would be enough to convey how much I wanted her to stay, to trust that we could still work out whatever it was she was running away from.

"Wahaj, I would never divorce you. Don't you know that by now?"

"I know," she murmured as she leaned in and with the softest pressure, her lips brushed against my cheek. And then without another word, she turned around and then she was just...gone.

It happened exactly like it always happens in those corny romantic movies; the heroine embarked on the train just as it began pulling away from the platform, leaving the hero to chase after it for one last glimpse of the woman who took his heart with her. And then, when the train slowly gained momentum, but in my story she wasn't there.

At precisely 9:55 AM on a Sunday, I was the hero of my very own corny love story. Only, I wondered if I would have the happy ending that the hero usually got. And then I realized, with what's left of my heavy heart, that my heroine wasn't there.

Wahaj wasn't there, I missed the train. That was it.

My love story...sucked.