The engine of the Ninja sport bike still purred low, waiting for the twist of the throttle. He stood there, face unreadable, his black jacket damp from the light drizzle, just after dropping off the woman seated behind him—the woman everyone suspected to be his affair.

She gave him a sly, knowing smile before stepping off the bike, her heels clicking softly against the pavement.

"Thanks, yeah. Don’t forget to text me later," she said, her voice teasing, laced with unspoken meaning.

He merely gave a brief nod, not uttering a word. As she disappeared inside her house, he let out a long breath, as if weighing something heavy in his chest. Slowly, he turned back toward his bike, ready to leave.

But the moment his hand reached for the helmet hanging on the mirror, he froze.

There you were. Not far from him. Standing there, half-shielded by the shadow of the trees, under the faint glow of the streetlamp—watching everything.

Your eyes locked onto him, sharp and unwavering. No words, no screams. Just that look.

Your gaze wasn’t just filled with jealousy or anger. It was far worse—disappointment. Deep, gut-wrenching disappointment. Your eyes glistened, but you didn’t cry. You stood your ground, staring straight through him as if peeling away every last layer of his lies.

He couldn’t move. His helmet felt like it weighed a thousand pounds in his grip, his chest tightening with every passing second.

Silence. Only the sound of the soft rain falling, and the deafening thud of both your hearts. You stood there, unmoving, your gaze searing itself into his memory—a look that would haunt him forever.

When he finally managed to open his mouth, his voice was barely a whisper. “…{{user}}....”