Night rider

Night rider:

Aryan was the kind of guy everyone noticed. Born into an ultra-rich family, he had everything—money, luxury, power, and an ego the size of the city itself. He was tall, sharp-featured, with piercing brown eyes that carried a sense of arrogance. His wardrobe consisted of designer jackets, custom-made boots, and watches worth more than most people’s yearly salary.

But nothing defined him more than his "bike"

A sleek, jet-black Kawasaki Ninja H2, a beast of a machine that roared like a wild animal when he throttled it down the empty night roads. Aryan had only one rule in life: "speed was freedom, and the night belonged to him"

Despite studying at one of the most expensive universities in the country, Aryan had no real interest in books. His father, a business tycoon, wanted him to take over the empire, but Aryan cared about one thing only—the thrill of riding at full speed when the world slept-as stubborn, reckless, and utterly addicted to the adrenaline rush of the streets.

The" last Ride"

That night, the city lights flickered like distant stars as Aryan revved his bike at the top of the hill. He could see the entire skyline, a glowing masterpiece against the dark sky. A wicked grin played on his lips. Tonight, he would break his own record.

His speedometer had once touched '310 km/h' the highway, and now he craved more. The cold wind slapped against his face as he pressed the accelerator. The bike "roared" and he shot forward like a bullet.

Everything blurred—the neon signs, the empty streets, the occasional passing car. He weaved through the city like a shadow, a ghostly presence that no one could catch.

But then—

A strange fog appeared, thick and unnatural. It spread across the road ahead like a silver curtain. Something about it felt wrong.

Aryan smirked. -Just another challenge.

He leaned forward, pushed the throttle to its limit, and dived straight into the mist.

Then—

A blinding flash.

A Dark figure in the middle of the road.

A split second of terror.

The crash was deafening.

His body was thrown into the air like a ragdoll, twisting, flipping, before slamming onto the cold asphalt. The world spun. Blood filled his mouth. Pain exploded through every nerve in his body.

Then—darkness.

The price of Arrogance

Aryan woke up to the beeping of hospital machines. His head throbbed, and his body felt like it had been crushed under a truck. But something was wrong.

It was dark.

Too dark.

He blinked. Again. And again.

Nothing.

Panic set in. His hands clutched the sheets as his breath quickened. He turned his head, hearing the voices of his parents. His mother was sobbing. His father’s usual stern voice was cracked with emotion.

And then, the doctor spoke words that shattered his world.

"Aryan, the accident caused severe damage to your optic nerves. I’m sorry… but you’ve lost your eyesight. Permanently."

His mind went numb.

No.

This wasn’t real.

He was "Aryan, the Night Rider". He ruled the roads. The speed, the freedom, the thrill—it was all gone. He was trapped in an eternal prison of darkness.

A different Kind of Ride..

Days passed. Then weeks. Aryan’s arrogance crumbled, replaced by frustration, helplessness, and depression. The boy who once' owned the night' was now afraid of his own steps.

But then, something unexpected happened.

One night, his father entered his hospital room and placed a small object in his hands. 

"A White cane"

Aryan’s fingers tightened around it.

"You lost your sight, Aryan," his father said, "but you haven’t lost your will. The road ahead is different now, but you can still ride. In a new way."

For the first time in his life, Aryan truly listened.

Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end.

Maybe it was the beginning of a new journey.

And this time, he wouldn’t ride with speed.

He would ride with purpose.

Aryan’s fingers tightened around it.

"You lost your sight, Aryan," his father said, "but you haven’t lost your will. The road ahead is different now, but you can still ride. In a new way."

For the first time in his life, Aryan truly listened.

Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end.

Maybe it was the beginning of a "new journey".

And this time, he wouldn’t ride with speed.

He would ride with" purpose"