Leo’s Point of View The crowd is still roaring, still celebrating, but I don’t hear them anymore.
The noise fades into a dull hum, like the world has been dipped in water.
All I can see is her.
All I can feel is the weight of her absence pressing down on me like a physical force.
I’m still sitting on my bike, my helmet dangling from my hand, my eyes fixed on the spot where she disappeared into the darkness.
She rode off without looking back.
Without a single word.
Without even a glance.
I feel the ache in my chest, sharp and familiar.
It’s been there for months, ever since she left.
Ever since I watched her walk away and did nothing to stop her.
I think about the way she looked at me.
The coldness in her blue eyes.
The hardness in her face.
She wasn’t the same girl I used to know.
She wasn’t sweet or shy or vulnerable.
She was steel.
She was fire.
She was vengeance.
And she beat me.
I should be angry.
I should be humiliated.
I should be anything but what I am.
But all I feel is regret.
All I feel is longing.
All I feel is the desperate need to make things right.
I push off from my bike and stand up, my legs weak and trembling.
I scan the crowd, searching for any sign of her.
A flash of silver.
A glimpse of her dark curls.
Nothing.
She’s gone.
She’s really gone.
I feel the tears burn in my eyes, but I blink them away.
I can’t let her go, I think.
I can’t let her disappear again.
I climb back onto my bike and start the engine.
The roar fills the night air, drowning out the distant cheers of the crowd.
I don’t know where I’m going.
I don’t know if I’ll find her.
But I have to try.
— I ride through the dark streets of Málaga, my headlights cutting through the night.
The streets are empty, the buildings silent and shadowed.
The only sound is the roar of my engine, echoing off the walls like a heartbeat.
I don’t know where she went.
I don’t know where she’s staying.
But I can’t stop.
I won’t stop.
I think about her.
About the way she used to smile.
The way she used to laugh.
The way she used to fight with me like her life depended on it.
I think about the last time I saw her.
The party.
The confrontation.
The way she told me she loved me and I said nothing.
I clench my fists on the handlebars, my knuckles white.
I should have said something, I think.
I should have fought for her.
I should have been the man she deserved.
But I didn’t.
I was frozen.
Paralyzed by fear and guilt and the weight of my father’s words.
“Weakness is a disease, Leo.
Don’t show emotion.
That’s how they get you.” I was wrong.
He was wrong.
Showing emotion isn’t weakness.
It’s strength.
It’s the only thing that makes us human.
And I wasted years being inhuman.
I round a corner, and I see it.
A flash of silver in the distance.
A bike, gliding through the night like a ghost.
My heart stops.
It’s her.
It has to be her.
I twist the throttle, pushing my bike faster.
The wind whips against my face, cold and unforgiving.
I don’t care.
I don’t care about anything except reaching her.
I catch up to her, my headlights illuminating her silhouette.
She’s leaning into the curves, her dark curls whipping in the wind.
She looks like she’s flying, like she’s part of the bike itself.
I pull up beside her, my heart pounding in my chest.
She glances at me, and I see the shock in her eyes.
The recognition.
But then she looks away.
She doesn’t slow down.
She doesn’t stop.
I rev my engine, trying to get her attention.
She ignores me.
I’m not going to let her go.
Not again.
I pull ahead of her and slow down, forcing her to stop.
She slams on her brakes, her tires screeching against the asphalt.
“What the hell, Leo?” she screams, pulling off her helmet.
Her face is flushed with anger, her blue eyes blazing.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I pull off my helmet and set it on my bike.
I swing my leg over and walk toward her.
“I’m not letting you go,” I say, my voice low and steady.
“Not this time.” Her eyes narrow.
“You don’t get to do this.
You don’t get to chase me after everything you did.” I take another step closer.
“I know I don’t get to.
But I’m doing it anyway.
I’ve spent months searching for you.
Months chasing your ghost.
I crashed my bike.
I broke my ribs.
I almost died.” She stares at me, her mouth slightly open.
For a moment, I see something flicker in her eyes.
Surprise?
Concern?
I can’t tell.
She quickly masks it.
“I don’t care, Leo.
I don’t care what happened to you.” “Maybe not,” I say, stepping closer.
“But I care.
I care about you.
I’ve always cared about you.” She shakes her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips.
“You have a funny way of showing it.” “I know,” I say, my voice cracking.
“I know I messed up.
I know I hurt you.
I know I was a coward.
And I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it right if you let me.” She looks at me, her eyes filled with pain and anger and something else.
Something I can’t name.
I reach out and grab her wrist.
Her skin is warm beneath my fingers.
She tries to pull away, but I hold on.
“Hello, princess,” I whisper, looking deep into her eyes.
Her breath catches.
I see the walls she’s built start to crack.
“We miss you,” I say, my voice breaking.
“Please come back home.”