When I entered the compartment, I noticed her looking around and assumed she was waiting for someone. I hadn't realized she was checking if the person whose seat she'd taken had arrived.

I didn't want to cause a scene on my way home, so I calmly opened my ticket app and showed her my booking details. "This is indeed my seat. See? Here's my ticket information," I said patiently, holding my phone up to her.

Her expression changed briefly before she returned to her defiant stance. She raised her voice. "What's wrong with you? There are so many people in this compartment, yet you're picking on an old lady like me! It's just a seat! Do you want to drive me to my death?"

Her sudden outburst left me frozen in place. The entire compartment turned to stare at us and I felt my face flush with embarrassment and anger. "This is my seat! You're the one who took it. How am I the one pushing you to the brink?" I retorted, raising my voice.

I felt a little wronged and speechless in my heart. What bad luck to run into this on my way home for the holidays.

I stood there holding my phone while the old lady snorted impatiently. She pushed my hand away with force. "What are you looking at? Don't wave your phone in front of me. I can't read. I'll just sit here today. Why can't I sit here?"

"Ouch!" I stood there clutching my wrist, my face contorted in pain. Tears instantly welled up in my eyes. It hurt like hell!

The old lady's push had sent my hand crashing into the most challenging part of the seat back in front of me. My entire wrist throbbed with a burning pain.

I was so annoyed I wanted to hit something. "Sure, you can sit, no one's stopping you. But this seat? I paid for it! Sit anywhere else, but where am I supposed to sit if you're in my seat?"

Some passengers in the compartment couldn't stand it anymore and started to smooth things over. "It's just a seat, why don't you two just switch? They're both seats, what difference does it make?"

"Exactly," another added. "It's no big deal. Young lady, you're being a bit too stubborn. Learn to be flexible."

I held back a torrent of words. Was it wrong to sit in the seat I paid for?

Finally, after a moment of silence, I said, "Fine, you can sit here. What's your seat number? We can just switch."

I winced as I nursed my aching wrist. It would be fine as long as I could go home.