hard bank

when i met her.

The road stretched out before me, empty and silent, a stark contrast to the usual hustle of the city. My bike was parked on the side, its engine cooling as I took a moment to breathe. The stillness was suddenly interrupted by the ringing of my phone—it was my mom. I answered, her voice warm but laced with the usual concern.

"Come back home soon, okay?"

I hesitated, the silence of the empty road weighing on me. "I'll be home later, Mom. The party's still going on, and it might last a while."

It was a lie, of course. There was no party, just me, my bike, my laptop, and my earphones. But I needed the time alone, away from the usual routine, to clear my head. She agreed and hung up, and I was left alone once more.

The reality was that not much had changed at home. We still had the same old car, and my dad hadn't managed to make any significant upgrades yet. But I had something new—my Yamaha R6. It was a beauty, a symbol of the independence I had carved out for myself. I hadn't told anyone about it yet; it didn't feel like the right time.

With a sigh, I started the bike and headed out, aiming for a scenic spot just outside of Bangalore. The wind hit hard as I rode, the landscape blurring into greens and browns. As I neared a bus stop, I noticed a girl standing there, her posture tense as she waited for a bus. She looked like she was in college, maybe a bit younger than me. I glanced at her briefly before turning my attention back to the scenery. I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, so I kept my distance, focusing on capturing the perfect shot with my phone.

After a while, I pulled out my laptop and checked my earnings. The screen displayed a figure that took my breath away—“Total Profit: 9.78 L.” I stared at it in disbelief, the reality of it slowly sinking in. Almost 10 lakhs in a day, all thanks to the automation I had set up. A grin spread across my face, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. I called my mom immediately, my excitement spilling over.

"Amma, can you make a sweet dish and a special dinner tonight?"

She was puzzled by my sudden request. "Why? What's the occasion?"

I could barely contain my excitement. "Today is the day I've been waiting for—a day I've dreamed of for a decade."

She pressed for more details, but I kept it vague. "Please, just do it for me, Amma. I'll explain everything later."

She was confused but agreed, and I ended the call, still buzzing with the thrill of my success. As I tucked my phone away, I noticed the girl at the bus stop looking at me. There was something familiar in her gaze, a recognition that stirred a distant memory. But the tinted visor of my helmet made it hard to make out her features.

Deciding not to leave it hanging, I approached her cautiously, my shyness making me awkward. “Hey, do you need any help?” I asked.

She shook her head, polite but firm. “No, I’m fine.”

“Alright,” I replied, “but if you change your mind, I’ll be here for a few more minutes.”

I walked back to my bike, settling down on it as I opened my laptop again. The numbers on the screen still held me in awe, my mind drifting into a daydream. I zoned out, the world around me fading into the background until a sudden knock on my visor snapped me back to reality.

“Hey, mister!” a voice called out.

Startled, I jumped, my laptop slipping from my grasp. I reached out to catch it, but it was too late. It hit the ground with a dull thud, the screen cracking on impact. Panic flashed across the girl’s face as she realized what had happened.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s all my fault!” she stammered, her voice shaky with guilt.

I quickly picked up the laptop, inspecting the damage. The screen was ruined, but I forced a smile, trying to calm her down. “It’s alright, really. It was my fault for dropping it.”

She continued to apologize, her voice tinged with regret. I waved it off, eager to change the subject. “So, what’s got you stranded out here?”

She sighed, her expression turning somber. “I had a fight with my friend, Shihta. She got mad and told me to get out here and go home on my own.”

“That’s rough,” I said sympathetically. “But can’t you just book an auto or a cab?”

She shook her head, her frustration evident. “I’ve got no network here in the outskirts, and I can’t call anyone.”

I asked her where she lived, and it turned out to be close to where I was headed. “I’m sorry for what happened,” I offered, “but if you want, I can drop you home.”

She hesitated, clearly not wanting to trouble me. “No, it’s okay. I don’t want to inconvenience you. It’s pretty far.”

I pulled up the map on my phone, showing her how quickly we could get there if we took the NICE road. “It’s no trouble, really. I’m headed that way anyway.”

She still seemed uncertain, but the offer was too good to refuse. “Well, I guess… but won’t it be late for you? Didn’t you tell your mom to prepare a special dinner?”

I shrugged, brushing it off. “I’m just stopping by a shop near your place. It won’t take long.”

Reluctantly, she agreed. I started the bike, and she climbed on behind me, her grip tentative at first. But as we set off, speeding down the road, I felt her hold tighten, and that same familiar thrill coursed through me.