The Night Train Reunion – Part 2: Through the Alps

They did not sleep.

They talked until the wine was gone, and the cheese, and the herring (which Mattias ate alone). She told him about the clinic in Seville, the long hot days, the patients who made her cry. He told her about the dark Stockholm winters, the small flat with too much quiet, the habit he'd developed of cooking for two.

The train climbed through the night. The Brenner Pass glittered under the stars, snow-white and silent. Tunnels swallowed them and spat them out. The compartment light was dim, the window a black mirror reflecting their two faces.

"You've changed," said Mattias, gently.

"So have you."

"For the better?"

"Your hair's longer."

"It's the Swedish water."

"It looks nice."

He smiled. She turned on the bunk and leaned into him. His arm slid round her waist, warm and sure. The train rocked, rhythmic and slow.

"Can I ask you something?" said Mattias, against her hair.

"Yes."

"May I kiss my wife? Properly? I've been practising on a houseplant."

She snorted. "Yes. And if I say stop, you must never go to Stockholm without me."

"That's the best punishment I've ever heard."

He kissed her, slow and warm, nine months of waiting in every breath. She kissed him back with all the love she'd stored up, her hands in his hair. The train swayed. The mountain night rolled past, unseen. For a long time, the only sounds were the rhythm of the wheels and the quiet, shifting breath of two people finding their way home.

When they parted, both of them were smiling.

"Green?" he asked.

"Green," said Sofia. "Very green."

At dawn, the train rolled into Venice with the sun on the lagoon. They had two days before work called them back. They spent them in a hotel room with the shutters closed.

More married couple romance: The Cruise · Couples Retreat · The Second Honeymoon