The wall stood exactly where Wayne said it would.
To everyone else, it was just a stretch of brick between two busy platforms. People passed by without slowing, dragging suitcases, checking tickets, arguing about directions. Somewhere nearby, a train whistled sharply.
Amber stopped a step short of it.
"So," she said quietly, staring at the wall, "this is the part where I act normal."
Wayne glanced at her. "You'll be fine."
She did not move.
"I know you said don't stop," she said, lowering her voice, "but I feel like my body disagrees."
Wayne smiled. "Then don't give it a vote."
She looked at him sideways. "Easy for you to say."
The flow of people slowed for a moment, leaving a brief gap in front of the barrier. Amber noticed it and hesitated, then stepped back again.
"I just—" she started, then stopped. "This is stupid."
"It's not," Wayne said gently.
She exhaled, clearly frustrated with herself. "Just… do it with me."
Wayne blinked. "What."
She reached for his coat, fingers tightening slightly. "If I'm going to walk into a wall, I'd rather not do it alone."
For a second, Wayne looked surprised.
Then he laughed softly and stepped closer. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, firm but careful, steadying her without pulling.
"Don't close your eyes," he said quietly. "Just walk."
Amber nodded, face warm now, very aware of how close they were. "If this goes badly," she muttered, "I'm blaming you forever."
"I'll live with that," Wayne said.
The space in front of the wall cleared again.
"Now," Wayne said.
They moved together.
At the last step, Amber instinctively leaned into him, gripping his coat tighter. Wayne held her without thinking, guiding them forward as if the wall truly was not there.
For half a heartbeat, she braced.
Then the world shifted.
The noise of the station dropped away, replaced by steam, voices, and the deep hiss of a waiting train. Red carriages stretched along the platform, sunlight catching on brass and paint. Owls hooted. Trunks rattled. People talked over one another, excited and distracted.
Amber stumbled a step, then froze.
"Oh," she said.
Wayne loosened his hold immediately.
She did not let go right away.
When she realised, she pulled back quickly, cheeks warm, pretending to adjust her bag. "Okay," she said. "That worked."
Wayne smiled. "You did great."
She glanced at him, still slightly flustered. "You didn't have to run into a wall with me."
"You asked," he replied.
She huffed a laugh. "Still."
They stepped aside as others came through the barrier, some confident, some nervous, all too focused on themselves to notice anything else.
Amber looked around, eyes wide but calm now. "So this is it."
"This is it," Wayne said.
They walked along the platform slowly. The train would not leave for hours, and no one was in a hurry. Families clustered together, students argued with luggage, steam drifted lazily above the engine.
"Do people just wait here," Amber asked.
"Yes," Wayne said. "They talk. They pretend they aren't nervous."
"That explains a lot," she said.
Nearby, a boy struggled with a trunk that refused to stay shut. Every time he pressed it down, something popped out.
Amber smiled. "He's losing."
Wayne nodded. "Badly."
He stepped forward and tapped the trunk. The clasps snapped shut and stayed that way.
The boy stared. "Oh. Thanks."
"Ask nicely next time," Wayne said.
The boy laughed and hurried off.
Amber watched him go. "You make it look easy."
"Only the small things," Wayne said.
They found an empty bench and sat down. Around them, the platform moved at its own pace. Loud, busy, but not rushed.
Amber leaned back. "Two hours," she said. "What now."
"We wait," Wayne said. "And you watch."
She smiled. "I can do that."
Minutes passed comfortably.
Amber tilted her head. "Does it bother you," she asked, "coming back here."
Wayne thought for a moment. "No," he said. "It feels… familiar."
She nodded, satisfied with that answer.
An announcement crackled overhead. Someone dropped a suitcase. An owl flapped irritably.
Amber smiled softly. "I think I'm ready now."
Wayne returned the smile. "Good."
They stayed where they were, side by side, the train waiting behind them, time stretching easily for once.
And nothing rushed them forward.