A fancy Rolls-Royce car shined under the streetlights in Delhi, looking almost ghostly in the evening mist.
A young man on a motorbike sped through the busy city. His bike roared as he weaved past lurching auto-rickshaws and blaring horns. The air was thick with the smell of diesel and the hint of rain. He gripped the handlebars so tightly his knuckles turned white, his jaw was set, and tears blurred his vision. Red lights didn't stop him, and the shouts of other drivers faded away. All that mattered was the car, and the person inside. Her laughter echoed in his mind, and their secrets hurt more than the wind rushing past him.
He wondered if she was running from him, if the promises were lies. Or had he lost her forever?
The Rolls-Royce slowed down near the bright lights of the airport and pulled into a dark parking lot at the edge of the city. The young man screeched to a stop, his heart pounding, ready to find out the truth. A chauffeur, neatly dressed, got out and opened the back door. A man in a dark suit emerged, his face showing a deep, silent sadness. He took out a handkerchief which looks familiar, wiped tears from his eyes, and then walked towards the airport terminal without saying a word.
The young man stood still, frozen, as his motorbike's engine cooled and ticked in the quiet night.