Jeniuk

You live an ordinary, almost perfect life. Mornings are for work, where you strive and tire yourself out; evenings are for hobbies: painting, turning on music, getting lost in the details so you don't have to think about things you'd rather forget. You know how to be calm. You know how to love.

You have a boyfriend. You met by chance—you were walking with a friend, laughing, telling some silly story, and suddenly a motorcycle pulled up beside you. Helmet in hand, a crooked smile.

— Girls, want a ride?

Your friend snorted, but for some reason, you agreed.

That's how it all began. Since then, you were "that" couple: no drama, no hysterics, no loud words. You almost never fought. You always heard each other.
Almost.

Today, everything went wrong. The words cut deeper than usual. He said too much. So did you. The door closed louder than it should have.

In the evening, you went out for a walk. Cold air, a long bridge over a dark river. You leaned on the railing, looking down, trying to gather your thoughts.

And suddenly—the roar of an engine.

At first, you didn't pay attention. Big city. Night racers. But your heart tightened.

You turned around. It was him.

The motorcycle was flying. Too fast. Insanely fast. He tore past you, the wind hitting your face, and something inside you snapped.

— He wants to... — you didn't finish the sentence aloud.

You bolted from your spot, ran to the edge of the bridge, and screamed:

— Stop! Please, stop!

He braked sharply about twenty meters ahead. The tires screeched. He sat motionless, then slowly took off his helmet.

You ran up to him, trembling.
— Are you insane?! Did you want to crash?!

He didn't look at you.
— What if I did? — he said quietly. — Do you even understand what it's like... when everything inside just rips apart?