Chapter 25- He gazed at me with much admiration

The next two days passed in a haze. Simple acts like peeling myself from bed became monumental tasks. Showers stretched endlessly as I stood under scalding water, while the mere sight of food turned my stomach. Witnessing the boy I knew despise the man he'd become—seeing that unshakable facade crumble—left me gutted. I don't hate Zain. I'm furious. And my fury has morphed into this reckless defiance. Every instinct screamed to back out, but I'd given Zayd my word. After everything he'd done for me, I couldn't break that promise now. Today, I would race. Today, I would win.

I dressed mechanically in my sponsor's gear, the fabric clinging like a second skin. The keys to my new motorcycle felt foreign in my grip. Zayd had Power Play. Zain had Red Bull. The rest of us normals got generic sponsorships and empty wallets. My phone buzzed—Zayd's pre-race pep talk—before I headed to the track.

The locker room hummed with nervous energy, men toweling off and taping joints. I slipped past them to the pit area, watching teams swarm over bikes like worker ants. Then Zain arrived, weaving through fans with practiced ease until he stood before me, sunlight glinting off his shades.

"Truce?" He extended a hand. "No hard feelings after this?"

Our handshake lasted a second too long before he melted into the crowd.

Zayd materialized beside me, scrubbing my palms with antiseptic wipes. "Can't have his loser vibes contaminating you."

"Pretty sure you're the suspicious one, clutching another guy's hands like—"

"Bromance," he cut in, squeezing my shoulder. "Don't forget our deal."

The event erupted with pyrotechnics and gyrating dancers before the emcee summoned riders. Zain took center stage, basking in the spotlight.

"Even if I lose the Golden Wheel tonight," his voice carried across the stands, "holding it for two years was an honor. It belongs to the best rider—whoever that may be."

My stomach dropped. Winning meant nothing if he didn't care.

Engines roared to life. I lined up beside Zain, my pulse thundering louder than the bikes. The starting flag dropped—he shot forward like a bullet. By lap three, Zayd and Zain traded the lead while I fought to close the gap. During the tire change, Zain paused to high-five fans like this was a casual Sunday ride. My knuckles whitened on the handlebars.

Final lap. The crowd screamed for Zain or Zayd to clinch it—until I downshifted and gunned the throttle. My bike screamed past theirs, tires kissing the finish line first.

Silence. Then chaos.

The trophy girls swarmed, one yanking off my helmet. Gasps rippled through the crowd as my hair tumbled free. The commentator's voice cracked: "A female rider—this changes everything!"

I snatched the mic. "He took everything from me." My words echoed across the stunned audience. "This trophy might go to him because I broke the rules—but tonight, I took something back."

"Disqualified!" The emcee wrestled back the mic.

As they crowned Zain, German and Chinese riders found me in the locker room. "Join our afterparty," one said, bumping my fist. "We know who really won."

Zayd burst in, slinging an arm around my neck. "Zaniul, you absolute legend!" His laughter faded when Zain appeared in the doorway, lipstick smeared across his cheek, arms laden with prizes.

The room held its breath as he approached. Without a word, he draped the gold medal around my neck and pressed the winner's bouquet into my hands. "This is yours." His fingers lingered on the ribbon.

Then he dragged me outside, shouting to photographers, "Get shots of the real champion!" Zayd jumped in, then the others—a jumble of grinning faces and flashing cameras. For one perfect moment, I existed in the warmth of Zain's gaze, his arm tight around my waist.

"You earned this," he murmured later, breath warm against my ear as we parted.

I left him the prize money but kept the medal. The fury had burned out. As I rode home, the disapproving glares of the women at my complex told me everything—but the weight of that medal against my chest told me more.