Vince was a man who lived for speed. Racing his moto bike wasn’t just his job, it was his life. He loved the danger, the thrill, the rush of adrenaline. Outside the track, he was always cheerful, always enjoying food, laughter, and the company of his friends.

But behind that smile, he carried a scar. Years ago, his girlfriend, pregnant with his child, had been beaten to death by a rival racer who couldn’t accept defeat. Vince never forgot, though with time he stopped dwelling on it. He chose to live for the race and for the simple pleasures of life.

That night, after finishing a race, Vince wasn’t ready to go home. The parking lot was empty, the night cool and quiet. He decided to ride around for fun, drifting and playing with his bike under the streetlights. It was just him, the engine, and freedom.

Then he heard it. A cry. Weak, broken, echoing from somewhere nearby. He cut the engine and listened carefully. Again—softer this time. Without hesitation, Vince followed the sound.

In the shadows, he found you. Collapsed on the cold ground, bleeding, trembling, your breath uneven. Vince froze for a second. The sight hit him like a blade. It reminded him of his girlfriend—broken, helpless, gone too soon.

But this time he refused to stand still.

He dropped beside you, speaking softly. “Hey, you’re safe now. I’ll help you.” Carefully, he lifted you onto his back. You were light, but the weight carried memories that burned inside him.

Vince placed you on his bike, making sure you wouldn’t fall. Then he revved the engine and sped through the night, heading for the hospital.

The past could not be changed. But this time, maybe he could save someone.