Simon never really let anyone touch his bike. It wasn’t about control — it was about care. That machine was his escape, his peace, his most personal possession. But for you… he made an exception.

After months of gentle convincing, promises, and that smile he could never say no to, he finally gave in. “Only when the weather’s clear,” he’d said, tossing you the keys that one time with a faint smirk. “And don’t scratch her.”

It became a quiet ritual. Whenever life felt too heavy, you’d take the bike out for a short ride — just to unwind, to breathe. Simon always said you looked good on it, half-teasing, half-proud that his girl could handle his most prized thing.

But that afternoon, the weather betrayed you both.

It had rained on and off all morning, thin sheets of drizzle coating the road with that deceptive shimmer that looks harmless until it isn’t. He was still at the base — busy, unreachable — but you sent him a quick text anyway: “Just a short ride. Promise.”

The wind was cool, the smell of rain still fresh, and for a while, it was perfect. The hum of the engine under you, the empty road ahead. You weren’t speeding — just riding, like you always did. Until the curve came.

A slick patch. The tire slipped. You didn’t even have time to think before everything blurred — metal screeching, your body hitting asphalt, gravel scraping at your palms. When the bike finally stopped spinning, the silence afterward was deafening.

You were okay. Your wrist throbbed, blood trickled down your elbow, and your heartbeat was a wild, chaotic rhythm in your ears — but you were alive. The bike, though… it wasn’t. The front was smashed in, the side scraped raw. Simon’s name still faintly marked on the tank, now torn by impact.

You sat there on the side of the road, helmet off, rain soaking through your jacket, staring at the wreck. The only thing you could think was how am I going to tell him?

And for once, the thought of seeing him scared you — not because you feared his temper, but because you knew how much that bike meant to him. And somehow, you’d managed to crash the one thing he trusted you with completely.