Let's make chaos
We made our way to my father's mansion, the grandeur of it almost second nature to me but still awe-inspiring to newcomers. As we stepped into the sprawling garage, the sight never failed to amaze even me. Rows upon rows of gleaming cars and motorcycles stretched before us, their polished exteriors reflecting the soft overhead lights like a dream on wheels. It was a shrine to speed and elegance, a testament to the car-crazed obsession my father and I shared. Nearly every edition of car and motorcycle ever released was here, each piece meticulously curated.
"Damn, man! Even I don't own this many vehicles," Kais blurted out, his eyes darting from one car to another, his excitement practically vibrating in the air.
I chuckled, amused by his enthusiasm. "Yeah, well, I'm a collector. Guess I took my passion to the next level. Anyway, let's head over to the bike section," I said, my gaze sweeping over the cars with a mix of pride and adoration.
Kais's reaction became even more animated as we approached the motorcycle collection. "No way—look at these beauties!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with awe. "So, I can really pick any one I like?"
I nodded with a small grin. "Yeah, but two of them are off-limits."
His head snapped toward me, curiosity flickering in his wide eyes. "Why?"
Michael, who had been quietly observing, chimed in smoothly. "Because they're not just personal possessions—they're very personal properties of the Ardels."
Kais raised a skeptical brow. "But aren't all of these 'personal properties' of the Ardels?"
Michael smirked knowingly. "You'll understand when we get to that section."
I laughed softly, shaking my head. "Trust me, Kais, those two bikes are in a league of their own."
The exchange brought a comfortable camaraderie between us as we continued walking. Michael wasn't new to this garage—he and I often took cars or motorcycles out for a spin as a way to unwind. There was nothing quite like the roar of an engine and the rush of speed to clear the mind and pump adrenaline into our veins.
Kais lingered in front of a sleek black motorcycle, running his fingers lightly over the handlebar. "I think I'm in love," he murmured, half to himself.
"Take your time," I said, leaning casually against one of the cars. "This garage isn't going anywhere. Just remember—choose wisely. The ride says a lot about the rider."
Michael grinned faintly, his arms crossed. "No pressure, though."
As we entered the motorcycle section, my gaze instinctively fell on the two bikes that stood apart from the rest. Their presence was commanding, isolated yet unmistakably significant. Michael, ever the composed observer, motioned for Kais to follow him. "These," he said with a pointed gesture, "are the ones I was talking about."
Two Kawasaki Ninja H2 bikes stood there like twin sentinels, their black frames gleaming under the soft light. Each bore the initials A. Ardel in elegant silver, alongside the birth years of Alex and me. They weren't just machines; they were memories, pieces of a story no one else could rewrite.
Kais stepped closer, his fingers twitching as though resisting the urge to touch them. "So, let me guess," he said, glancing at Michael, "Alex and you ride these, and no one else is allowed?"
Michael nodded with the air of someone delivering a decree. "Exactly. No one else touches them," he said firmly. Then, with a smirk that bordered on smugness, he added, "Not even me. So don't think for a second that you'll get a shot."
Kais shot me a look, raising an eyebrow in silent, exaggerated annoyance. His expression was clear: Can I run him over yet? I chuckled softly, scratching the back of my neck. "Well... actually, someone has ridden one of them."
Michael's smirk vanished in an instant, replaced by a sharp, questioning look. "What? Who?"
"Your sister," I said, my voice steady but laced with a hint of guilt.
"What?" Michael's tone sharpened his usually composed demeanour unravelling. His eyes narrowed, and he looked at me as though I'd just committed an unforgivable betrayal. "You mean Kais's sister? Ayah?" He jabbed a finger toward the bikes, his voice rising with every word. "You let her ride one before me? I mean, I know you're her husband and all, and you're head over heels for her—but come on! Of all people, she gets to ride it?"
I shrugged, trying to keep my expression neutral, though I knew the reaction I'd sparked was inevitable.
Kais, meanwhile, looked thoroughly entertained. A mischievous grin spread across his face as he leaned casually against one of the bikes. "Well, Michael," he drawled, his tone dripping with mock amusement, "at least a Ferdous got to ride it, right? Even if it wasn't me."
Michael shot him a glare that could have stopped a lesser man in his tracks. "That's not the point, Kais," he snapped, his voice dripping with exasperation.
"Oh, I think it is," Kais countered with a laugh, clearly enjoying the situation far too much. He tilted his head, his grin widening. "If my sister can ride it, maybe I should give it a spin too. You know, keep the family tradition alive."
Michael crossed his arms, his composure returning in the form of a deadpan expression. "Don't even think about it."
The banter filled the space with a lightness that softened the weight of unspoken feelings. Michael's fondness for Kais's sister was evident, even in his frustration, and Kais's teasing only seemed to deepen the dynamic. For a moment, surrounded by the hum of engines waiting to roar to life, everything felt comfortably familiar.
The roar of engines echoed through the empty streets like a storm tearing through the stillness of 3 a.m. The Manhattan Bridge lay ahead, its glowing arches cutting through the darkness, daring us to claim it as our victory. The city around us was silent, a sleeping giant oblivious to the chaos about to unfold.
We lined up at the starting point, three shadows on two wheels, clad in black motorcycle suits and helmets that rendered us faceless predators in the night. I was on my Kawasaki H2R, the ultimate beast in speed and power. Michael, ever the strategist, was mounted on his Yamaha YZF-R1M, calm and focused. Kais, the wildcard, was ready to let loose on his BMW M 1000 R, his cocky grin hidden behind his visor.
"No rules," Michael said over the comms, his voice steady and cold. "First to cross the bridge wins."
Kais laughed, revving his engine. "Let's see if you two can keep up. I don't plan on losing."
I tightened my grip on the throttle, the beast beneath me purring with anticipation. "You'll be eating my dust, Kais. Just try not to cry when it's over."
The signal was a flare, shooting into the dark sky and bursting like a firework. The second it lit up the night, we were off.
The H2R roared as I twisted the throttle, the bike surging forward like a caged animal finally unleashed. The wind screamed past, biting and cold, but it was nothing compared to the heat in my veins. Michael and Kais were right on my tail, their engines howling in unison, the streetlights flashing like strobes as we tore through the city.
Michael made the first move, cutting dangerously close to me on my left, his R1M nudging me toward a line of parked cars. I gritted my teeth, leaning hard to avoid them. "Nice try," I said through the comms, pushing the H2R to its limit and reclaiming my lead.
"Too slow!" Kais shouted, his BMW weaving between cars like a shadow. He slipped past us, his laughter crackling through the comms.
We blew past red lights, the streets ours alone in the witching hour. The occasional taxi or late-night delivery truck was just another obstacle in the game. Kais veered to the left, cutting off a cab with reckless precision. Michael retaliated by tossing a wad of cash at the driver of a delivery truck, who promptly swerved into Kais's path, forcing him to slam on the brakes.
"Dirty moves, Michael," Kais growled.
"Win first, complain later," Michael shot back, his tone smug.
The bridge loomed closer, its lights shimmering like a promise of glory. Kais recovered quickly, his BMW roaring as he pushed it to the edge. He took the shoulder, debris flying as he overtook Michael and closed the gap between us.
The incline of the bridge was ahead, and the finish line—its apex—was tantalizingly close. Kais was nearly at my side, his laughter wild and free. "Think you can take me now?" he yelled.
I grinned under my helmet—time to make my move.
A delivery truck loomed ahead, blocking my path, but I saw the opening: a razor-thin gap between it and a car in the next lane. It was a gamble, but I thrived on the edge. I leaned low, my H2R screaming as I shot through the gap, sparks flying as I skimmed the truck's side.
"What the hell?!" Michael's voice crackled in disbelief.
I surged ahead, the wind howling in my ears as the bridge lights blurred past. Kais and Michael pushed their bikes to the limit, but it was too late. The finish line was mine.
I skidded to a stop just past the apex, pulling off my helmet as the cool night air hit my face. My heart pounded in my chest, the rush of victory as sharp as the adrenaline still coursing through me.
Seconds later, Michael and Kais rolled up, their bikes purring like angry animals. Kais flipped up his visor, shaking his head. "Well, damn. You really don't hold back, do you?"
Michael removed his helmet, his expression a mix of irritation and reluctant respect. "Next time, I'm taking you out early."
I smirked, resting a hand on the H2R. "You can try, but we all know how this ends."
The three of us sat there for a moment, the city lights sprawling before us like a crown of jewels. It was 3 a.m., and the world was ours alone. The race was over, but the thrill lingered—a fiery reminder that we lived for nights like this.