Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Kieran
My passport had its first stamp, I’d collected my suitcase from the carousel, and I’d followed the exit signs into the main area of the terminal. Shops filled one side of the wide hallway that was lined with dark wood panels, and taxi drivers strolled here and there, touting for fares.
I stood there, clutching the handle of my suitcase, trying not to look as lost as I felt, and failing miserably.
People moved around me, confident, unhurried, as if they all knew exactly where they were going. Signs hung overhead in German and English, but somehow that didn’t make it any easier to decide which way to turn.
I’d done the research. I’d read Karl’s notes. I knew not to go with any of the taxi drivers who were gazing at me with keen interest. I also knew there were trains from the airport into the city.
I just had no idea where to find them.
“Are you okay? You look a little lost.” The voice came from my right, with the faintest trace of an accent.
I turned, and—
Whoa.
A striking man stood there. He was tall, with broad shoulders and grey hair swept back from his forehead.
His moustache and beard were a blend of dark grey and silver.
Blue eyes looked me up and down. His expensive-looking suit was a damn good fit, and he wore his black shirt open at the collar.
A messenger bag was slung over one shoulder, and he gripped the handle of a small suitcase.
“I—” I let out a small, self-conscious laugh. “Yes. I mean—no. I’m trying to find the train to the main station.”
The man smiled. “I’ll show you. I’m going that way too.”
Relief washed through me. “Thank you.” Then a thought occurred to me. “How did you know I was English?”
He smiled, then pointed to the handle of my suitcase. “Your flight label says Manchester. It seemed a safe bet.”
Clearly an observant man.
He beckoned. “Come with me.”
I followed him to a bank of lifts, then down to a lower level. The man moved with quiet confidence, clearly familiar with the space. He gestured at a row of ticket machines.
“You can buy your ticket there.”
I went over to one of them, hesitating for a moment before selecting English on the screen. “Which one do I need?”
“The airport to Hauptbahnhof.” The man leaned closer, pointing. “This one.”
I could feel the warmth of him. “Thank you.” I focused on the machine. When it spat out my ticket and receipt, I grabbed them, then looked around. “Now where do I go?”
He pointed to the lift we’d taken. “We go down another level.” He led the way once more, and I followed, grateful for his assistance.
The back view was just as hot as the front, and I tried not to stare.
We emerged from the glass-walled lift to a crowded platform filled with tourists, commuters, people of all shapes and sizes.
The man pointed to a yellow post. “You need to insert your ticket there to validate it.”
I followed his example, and a moment later, a train pulled in.
I blinked. “We don’t have double-decker trains in the UK.”
“These are more efficient when dealing with a lot of passengers,” he said with a smile. The doors opened, and we waited our turn to step inside. My gaze alighted on a pair of empty seats on the lower deck, and I sat, my suitcase in front of me.
“Mind if I join you?” the man asked.
“Not at all.” I did my best to sound calm, not the easiest task when my heart was pounding away like a bass drum, and I had no idea why.
Okay, so he’s attractive. Will my pulse go into overdrive every time I sit next to a handsome man? Because this feels ridiculous.
He sat beside me, and seconds later the train began to pull away from the platform.
Monitors showed the stops, and a voice in German made announcements.
Dear God, I’m rusty. I could pick up maybe a word or three.
The man turned in his seat, giving me his attention. “Is this your first time in Berlin?”
I managed a chuckle. “My first time anywhere in Europe.”
His eyebrows shot upwards. “Really? Then you chose well.”
“I hope so.”
“What brings you here?”
“I have a friend who lives here,” I told him. “I’m staying with him.”
“Ah.” The man inclined his head. “I’m Stefan, by the way.”
“Kieran.” We shook hands. Stefan’s grip was firm and warm.
“Do you live in Berlin?” I asked.
“Yes. I’ve just been to Rome for a conference. I’m on my way home.”
“Conference? That sounds interesting.”
Stefan laughed. “Unfortunately it was boring as hell but I had to be there.” He glanced at me. “I’m glad to be back.” A beat of silence. “Especially with such pleasant company.”
An unfamiliar sensation flickered through me.
Is he… flirting with me?
I wasn’t sure.
“So what do you do when you’re not visiting friends in Berlin?” Stefan asked.
“I’m a classical pianist. I teach music as well.” As to whether I’d continue to teach, that was yet to be decided.
Stefan’s expression lit up. “Really? I love classical music.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. Beethoven, especially. The piano sonatas. And Debussy. Satie. Chopin…” His gaze dropped briefly to my lap. “You have the hands for it.”
I blinked. “The hands?”
“You have long fingers,” Stefan said with a smile. “Elegant, too. Exactly what I would expect for a pianist.”
And there it was again, that flirtatious tone. This time I was certain I wasn’t imagining it.
“Thank you.” I struggled to find something else to say. “And you? What do you do?”
“I design IT software.”
“I’m impressed.” I laughed. “My wife calls me a luddite. I’m terrible with technology.”
Stefan’s gaze flickered to my left hand. “You don’t wear a wedding ring.”
I hesitated for a fraction of a second. “Not anymore.”
Stefan nodded, as if filing that away. “I see.”
We fell silent, and I gazed at the passing landscape, caught somewhere between the unfamiliar city outside and the man seated beside me. Berlin opened out in wide, unexpected spaces. I saw patches of green, low buildings, sunlight catching on glass.
It was nothing like I’d imagined.
The train crossed a river, and I gazed at the slow-moving water, a long canal boat cutting through it. For a moment, life felt suspended, and it had everything to do with the man at my side.
I was so aware of Stefan. I could feel the heat of him, his solidness, too near to ignore, too natural to justify moving away. I shifted in my seat, as if to give myself space.
It didn’t help.
If anything, it made me more aware of the line of Stefan’s arm, the quiet rise and fall of his breathing, the faint trace of something clean and unfamiliar that lingered in the air between us.
I glanced at him, a quick movement that I undid just as fast, but it was long enough to take in the shape of his profile, the rough edge of his beard.
I noted the way his jacket pulled across his shoulders.
My chest tightened and I jerked my head towards the window, fixing my attention on the city again, the glass buildings ahead of us, reflecting the sky.
I swallowed. Whatever this was—this unexpected road my body had taken me down—it didn’t mean anything.
It couldn’t.
The station appeared abruptly, a vast structure, all glass and steel, and the train slowed, easing into it.
I took a breath to steady myself.
Berlin. A fresh start. That was all this was.
I didn’t look at Stefan again until the train came to a stop at a platform.
Stefan stood. “This is Hauptbahnhof. Come—I’ll show you where to get a taxi.”
We stepped out onto the platform and made our way up through the station, Stefan guiding me through the flow of people with an easy familiarity. I realised the building had several layers. There were shops, restaurants, a supermarket… At the top, we emerged into a huge glass-fronted space.
Stefan led me to the main doors, then pointed to the taxi rank.
I breathed deeply. “Thank you. I’d have been completely lost without you.”
He smiled. “You would have figured it out.”
“Eventually,” I said with a chuckle.
There was a pause before Stefan extended his hand once more. “Well, enjoy your visit to Berlin.”
“I will,” I said, smiling as we shook.
We stood there for a moment longer, then Stefan inclined his head and turned away, disappearing into the crowd.
I watched him go.
It should have ended there. After all, it was only a stranger helping another stranger, right? Nothing more than that. But something in me resisted the moment closing quite so neatly.
I stayed where I was a second too long, as if part of me expected him to turn back.
He didn’t.
Then my phone buzzed in my pocket, and the moment was broken.
I took it out and peered at the screen.
Karl: Where are you?
I typed quickly. About to get a taxi. Coffee would be good.
Karl: It will be waiting for you.
I pocketed my phone, then glanced in the direction Stefan had taken. The crowd had swallowed him up.
I wasn’t sure if what surged through me was disappointment, regret, or simply the sense that something had slipped past me before I’d had a chance to understand it.
I exhaled, shaking my head. I’m being ridiculous. It had been a simple kindness, nothing more.
And yet—
If that was Berlin… If men like Stefan were just part of the landscape here—
A strange, unfamiliar thought surfaced.
Maybe I’ve come to the right place.
Stefan
I walked away without looking back.
I’d learned that a long time ago, not to linger, not to turn a passing moment into something it wasn’t. Berlin was full of brief encounters and glances.
Possibilities that dissolved as quickly as they appeared.
I slowed as I reached the edge of the concourse. Something tugged at my attention, and I stopped and turned, incapable of quelling the impulse.
Kieran was still there, exactly where I’d left him, his attention focused on his phone.
I watched him for a moment, unable to rid myself of the impression I’d had on the train.
I’d sensed attraction, no doubt about that, but there was something else layered beneath it.
A kind of hesitation, as if Kieran were standing on the threshold of something he didn’t yet understand.
And then again, maybe I’m reading too much into this.
I couldn’t take my eyes off him. The way he held himself, so contained, so careful. There was tension in those broad shoulders. I recalled the way his eyes tracked the space around him, alert but uncertain.
And then there was the way he looked. That full beard ending in such a neat line, those blue eyes… I’d glimpsed the curve of muscles across his shoulders, not to mention the dark hair beneath that white shirt.
Everything about him said ‘bear’, and yet…
He has no idea how he comes across.
I exhaled slowly. “Interesting,” I murmured.
For a moment, I considered going back. It would be an easy thing to do. I could come up with a simple excuse. Another question. A suggestion or two, for how he could spend his time in the city. Maybe I’d even ask him out for a drink.
Kieran would say yes, I was almost certain of it.
But then what?
I let my gaze rest on him for one last second, and then I turned away, this time without hesitation, and disappeared into the flow of the station.
Some encounters were meant to unfold slowly.
If they happened at all.