Chasing the final ride

I stood in front of the large window, the city sprawled before me like a glowing mosaic. The bright lights of Seoul twinkled in the distance, a modern metropolis alive with energy, noise, and life. But all I could see was the emptiness of my own reflection staring back at me from the glass. I felt like a shadow of the person I used to be, trapped in a body that was failing me, ticking down the days I had left.

It had been a few weeks since I'd gotten the diagnosis: terminal illness. It wasn't a surprise, not really. My symptoms had been lingering for months—maybe even longer—but when the doctor confirmed it, when the word terminal fell from his lips, everything seemed to freeze. There had been no denial. No pleading with the universe for a second chance. I knew the odds before the test results came back. And when they did, it was just a fact.

I had six months.

Six months to do… what? To say goodbye? To prepare for death?

No.

I wasn't going to spend those six months in some sterile hospital room, drifting in and out of consciousness, surrounded by pity and goodbyes. No. I would live. Even if it was just for a short while.

So, I made a decision.

I packed my things. Left the people I loved behind. And booked a one-way ticket to South Korea.

I didn't have any family in Seoul, no friends waiting for me. Just the promise of something different—something new. I needed a fresh start, a clean slate, something that would make me feel like I was more than just a patient in a bed with an expiration date. I wanted to live, to feel the rush of the wind against my face, the freedom of a motorcycle beneath me, and the adventure of a city I had only heard about in passing.

I had always liked challenges. Whether it was a difficult game, a new adventure, or the thrill of racing down an empty road on my bike, I lived for that adrenaline.

The only thing I couldn't bring with me from California was my motorcycle. It was too big to ship across the world, so I rented one instead. Not a fancy one, but something reliable, something that would give me the thrill I needed. The day I picked it up, I felt a strange kind of excitement. The city seemed to open up before me, and for the first time in weeks, I wasn't thinking about my diagnosis. I wasn't thinking about the shortness of my time. I was thinking about the road ahead.

The sun had just set as I revved the engine and pulled onto the empty street. I loved the feeling of the bike between my legs, the roar of the engine as I accelerated, the wind whipping through my hair. In that moment, I felt completely free. It didn't matter that I was a stranger in a foreign city, or that my future was slipping away with each passing day. What mattered was the here and now.

I glanced at the glowing cityscape in my peripheral vision as I sped down the streets, the lights flickering past me. The hum of the bike was like music to my ears, and I leaned into the curve of the road, enjoying the ride.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw it.

A black motorcycle, sleek and fast, pulling up alongside me, matching my speed effortlessly. I glanced to my left, a moment of curiosity hitting me as I took in the silhouette of the rider. They were wearing a black helmet, so I couldn't see their face, but their posture was confident, smooth. There was a rhythm to the way they rode, a fluidity that matched mine.

I smiled, a bit of a challenge bubbling up inside of me. I wonder how fast they can go.

Without a second thought, I twisted the throttle, speeding up. The bike beneath me surged forward, the roar of the engine filling the night air. The rider matched my pace instantly. It felt like a race, though neither of us had said a word.

I pressed harder on the throttle, urging the bike faster. The city lights blurred around me, and I grinned under my helmet. Whoever this rider was, they were good. Really good. It had been a while since I had a challenge like this, and I was relishing it.

We raced through the streets, winding our way through the back alleys and quiet avenues of Seoul. I didn't know where I was going. I didn't care. The feeling of the road beneath me, the sensation of the wind against my face—it was all that mattered.

The rider stayed close to me, pushing me further, faster. For a moment, we were just two riders, moving in perfect synchrony, like a dance. I glanced at them again, trying to catch a glimpse of their face, but all I saw was the dark visor of their helmet.

Suddenly, they pulled ahead.

I wasn't about to let that happen.

I twisted the throttle all the way, my heart pounding as I caught up, matching their pace once again. We zipped through an intersection, the headlights of cars flashing by. But just as quickly as the rider had surged ahead, they slowed down and pulled into a quieter street.

I followed, slowing my bike to a stop beside theirs.

The rider came to a stop as well, and for a moment, the world went silent, the engines of our bikes ticking down as we caught our breath. I glanced over at the mysterious rider, still unable to see their face.

"You're fast," I said, pulling off my helmet. The cool night air immediately hit my face, and I let out a long breath.

The rider was quiet for a moment before they, too, removed their helmet. Their short, messy black hair fell slightly over their forehead, and the streetlight above illuminated their sharp features. They were handsome, and for a moment, I was too stunned to speak.

"You're good too," the rider—now revealed as a guy—replied, a grin playing at the corners of his lips. "I didn't expect you to keep up."

I blinked, still taking in the sight of him. "I could say the same about you. What's your name?"

"Lucas," he said, his grin widening. "But most people call me Luke."

"Nice to meet you, Luke," I said, feeling a strange flutter in my chest. "I'm Iris."

He gave a nod, as if considering something. "You ride pretty well. How long have you been in Seoul?"

"Just a few days," I said. "I'm still getting used to the place."

"Figured as much," he said with a chuckle. "You're not from around here, are you?"

I shook my head, smiling. "Nope. I'm from California."

"Well, welcome to Korea, Iris," Luke said, his voice smooth but warm. "Let me know if you ever want another race."

I smiled, feeling a spark of something I hadn't expected. "Maybe next time."

With that, we exchanged contact information and went our separate ways. As I rode off into the night, I couldn't help but think about the strange encounter. There was something about Luke—something intriguing—but I didn't think much more of it.

After all, I had a city to explore and a life to live. The future could wait. For now, it was just me, the road, and the wind.