The metal groan of the train echoed through the narrow carriage as I pushed my way inside. The air was thick with heat, heavy with too many bodies crammed into a space that was already suffocating. My shoulder brushed against a man’s chest, someone’s elbow dug into my side, and the sharp scent of cologne mixed with stale sweat made me bite back a curse.
I hated crowded trains. But I hated waiting for the next one more, so here I was, pressed into strangers, the rattling motion of the train swaying everyone together like we were one massive, unwilling body. My hands tightened on the metal pole, knuckles whitening as another wave of passengers shoved in at the next stop.
That was when I felt it.
A hand, firm at the small of my back. Not groping, not clumsy the way some men tried when they
