As the race began, the roar of engines filled the air, and the racers took off with a burst of speed.
Ishan accelerated his bike responding smoothly to his touch.
The wind whipped past his face as he raced through the darkened streets, the lights of the city a blur in the distance.
But as the race progressed, Ishan could feel the pressure mounting. The other racers were fierce, each maneuvering to gain the upper hand.
He knew he couldn't afford any mistakes, but the track was unforgiving, with unexpected twists and turns that tested his skills to the limit.
By the final lap, Ishan was neck-and-neck with one of the top racers, a guy named Raj who had a reputation for playing dirty.
Raj's bike edged closer, forcing Ishan to swerve and almost lose control. Ishan managed to recover, but it cost him precious time, allowing Raj to take the lead.
As they approached the final turn, Ishan tried to push his bike to its limits, but the wheels skidded, sending him tumbling onto the ground. He felt a sharp pain in his shoulder as he hit the pavement, the sound of engines fading as the other racers sped past him.
The race was over, and he had lost.
Mayank was the first to reach him, helping him to his feet. "Theek hai tu Ish?"
Ishan winced as he stood, feeling the ache in his shoulder. "Haa itna kuch nhi hua, just a scratch. But I blew it."
But Ishan knew that losing this race meant more than just a setback. It meant losing the prize money, and potentially disappointing the owners.
The people who had bet on him were visibly upset, some muttering to themselves about how they had lost money because of him.
.
.
.
Ishan's shoulder throbbed as he sat on the curb, his racing suit dusty from the fall. The noise from the race had died down, replaced by the murmur of spectators leaving the venue. Mayank stayed by his side, a look of concern on his face.
"Chal, let's get you home. You need some rest," Mayank said, offering a hand to help Ishan up.
Ishan shook his head. "Give me a minute," he replied, his voice subdued.
He watched as the other racers headed toward the prize area, where the winner would be announced. Raj had clearly won the race, and his supporters were cheering loudly, creating a sense of isolation around Ishan.
"Ish, you don't have to worry about what they think," Mayank said, trying to console his friend.
"Losing happens. Aaj nahi toh kal, you can come back and win."
But Ishan's mind was elsewhere. Losing meant he wouldn't get the prize money, and he was already late on rent.
He had left his cafe job because he thought racing gave more money which he needed. His decision was impulsive and immature but it was what he thought about that moment.
The thought of having to tell his landlord that he didn't have the money filled him with dread.
As he got up, his phone buzzed. It was from Mr. Singh, the owner of the race.
The message was curt and filled with disappointment: "You lost. You know what that means. We need to talk."
Ishan knew that a meeting with him after a loss wasn't going to be pleasant.
Mayank noticed Ishan's reaction. "What happened? Who's messaging you?" he asked, leaning in to see the screen.
"It's Singh," Ishan said, his voice low. "He wants to talk."
Shit, kya baat krni hai uss buddhe ko ab" Mayank muttered. "You want me to come with you. ?"
Ishan shook his head. "No, I'll handle it. You go home. It's late."
"Ishu, you're my friend. I can't just let you go alone," Mayank insisted.
"Singh is a tough guy. You sure you can deal with him?" Sanki hai woh oldie. Jarur usko contract khatam karna hoga"
"Dekhta hu kya baat krni hai. I'll be fine, and I need this contract ghar chal raha hai Mera yaar " Ishan replied, though he didn't sound confident. "Just go home. I'll see you tomorrow."
Mayank hesitated but eventually relented. "Okay, but if you need anything, call me. Don't try to handle this alone, okay?"
Ishan nodded, watching as his friend walked away. The area around him felt eerily quiet, and he knew he had to face Singh's wrath for losing the race. He made his way to the designated meeting spot, a small warehouse at the edge of the racing venue.
Inside, the atmosphere was tense. Singh stood in the middle, surrounded by his associates, all of them looking grim. Ishan could feel their eyes on him as he entered, and his stomach churned with anxiety.
"You let me down, Ishan," Singh said, his voice cold and unforgiving. "I bet a lot of money on you, and you failed me. What do you have to say for yourself?"
"I'm sorry, sir," Ishan replied, trying to keep his voice steady. "It was an accident. I tried my best, but the track was tricky, and I lost control."
"Accidents happen, I know," Singh said, his eyes narrowing. "But you have to understand, when I bet on someone, I expect results. Now, because of you, I've lost money, and my reputation is at stake. What are you going to do about it?"
Ishan felt a knot form in his throat. "I'll make it up to you, sir. I'll do whatever you need me to do. Just give me another chance."
Singh considered this for a moment. "Another chance, huh? That doesn't cover my losses. I need something more concrete."
Ishan knew he was in a difficult position. Singh was not a man to be taken lightly, and his associates looked like they meant business.
"I'll pay you back, sir," Ishan said, his voice desperate. "I'll work for you, I'll race in other competitions.
Whatever it takes."Singh's expression softened slightly, but his eyes remained hard.
"Okay, Ishan. I'll give you another chance. But you need to understand, if you let me down again, there won't be a third chance. Got it?"
"Yes, sir," Ishan replied, feeling the weight of Singh's words.
"Good," Singh said, waving him off. "Now get out of here.
You've got work to do."Ishan nodded and left the warehouse, feeling a mix of relief and fear.
.
.
.
That was it guys.
Tell me if story is becoming boring.
Shubish moments will come soon❤️
Till then pls vote and comment 🙏🏻
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