GO HOME

That afternoon, the wind blew harder than usual. Sandrina and Kael stood facing each other

in the parking lot, among rows of motorcycles that were slowly emptying out.

“Dear, I promise. This is really the last time,” Kael pleaded.

“I already said no. How many last times do you want, El?” Sandrina’s voice was flat, but her

eyes never left Kael’s face.

Kael sighed. He got on his motorcycle, started the engine. The exhaust echoed, then slowly

faded—carrying Kael’s back as it grew smaller at the end of the road.

Sandrina stayed where she was.

“I don’t get it, El. I don’t get it. Why do you still do this so often?”

The question only echoed inside her head

Sandrina wasn’t the type who liked racing. She was more often found in the library, alone,

with a sketchbook or a novel she was reading. But every afternoon, she still came to the

parking lot—not to ride, but to wait for Kael to come back from the circuit.

Kael had just stepped off the track. His jacket was still damp with sweat; he hung his helmet

on the handlebar. His phone lit up—a message from Sandrina that had gone unanswered for

two hours.

“El, what time are you coming home? I’m at the library.”

He replied briefly

“Later. One more lap.”

He didn’t know that was the last message he’d ever send before Sandrina could no longer

reply.

Twenty minutes later, his phone buzzed. Not from Sandrina. From the class group.

Kael read it. Went silent. Then his bike shot off faster than any lap he’d ever taken.

At the ER, Kael sat on a hard plastic chair. He didn’t cry. Didn’t speak. He only held his

helmet and jacket—still smelling of asphalt, still reminding him of every “last time” he’d

ever asked for.

Sandrina was wheeled into the ward. Kael followed behind, his footsteps matching the creak

of the stretcher wheels.

Sandrina’s eyes were shut tight. A cast wrapped around her right leg.

Kael sat at the edge of the bed. He didn’t say anything. He just stared longer than usual—as if

counting all the time he’d wasted before.

Then Sandrina opened her eyes.

For a moment, she looked confused. Then surprised, seeing Kael beside her.

“Kael...?”

“Yeah.”

Kael hadn’t slept. His face looked tired, but he stayed. In his hands was a small towel and a

basin of warm water—slowly, he wiped Sandrina’s face with care.

“I’m not leaving again,” he said softly. “This time, I want to stay with you.”

Sandrina tried to move her leg. A sharp pain shot through her, making her hold her breath.

“Does it hurt? Where does it hurt, dear?” Kael panicked instantly, his hand gripping

Sandrina’s tightly.

Sandrina stared at him for a long time.

For the first time, she didn’t see Kael’s back disappearing. She saw his face—right here,

beside her.