Chapter One: The Beginning of the Unknown

Miss Chiru always told me that I was found in front of the orphanage, wrapped in a blanket, with nothing but a note bearing my name—Avni—and my birthdate, June 22nd. No one knew where I came from, why I was abandoned, or who my parents were. I grew up in the orphanage, surrounded by children with similar stories, but none exactly like mine.

Miss Chiru, the head of the orphanage, was the closest thing I had to a mother. She was a woman of strength and kindness, raising thousands of orphans over the years. She had been abandoned as a child herself, which was why she made it her life’s mission to give children like me a home, an education, and hope.

Under her care, we were never treated unfairly—girls and boys alike. But she often said, with sadness in her eyes, that most of the children left at the orphanage were girls. Society still saw daughters as burdens, discarding them in stations, parks, or outside the very gates where I was found.

For twenty years, the orphanage had been my only home. But now, that chapter was closing. I had secured a job, and it was time to leave. My heart ached at the thought of stepping beyond these walls, away from Miss Chiru’s warmth.

The day I left, she handed me ₹10,000, her way of ensuring I wouldn’t struggle. Tears filled her eyes, though she tried to hide them behind her saree’s corner.

“You were the strongest and most determined child here,” she told me. “I hope you will do great things in life. And maybe, one day, you will save another Avni, just like I saved you.”

I hugged her tightly, my tears dampening her shoulder. “I promise, Miss Chiru. I will never forget you. And I will help every child I can.”

The moment was heavy, yet it passed too quickly. My bags were placed in the taxi, and before I knew it, I was looking back at the orphanage for the last time, waving through a blur of tears.

———

Starting a new life was harder than I imagined. My apartment was small and quiet—too quiet. I missed the laughter and chaos of the orphanage. To fill the emptiness, I visited once a week. But soon, life caught up with me. Bills piled up, my job demanded more hours, and my visits became scarce.

Still, I sent money—₹30,000 of my ₹50,000 salary went to the orphanage every month. It wasn’t much, but I wanted to give back, to make sure no child there ever felt abandoned again.

But there was one secret, something only Miss Chiru and I knew.

Every leap year, on February 29th, I had a dream. A dream so vivid, so horrifying, that it left me gasping for breath. A dream of someone’s death.

The first time it happened, I was seven. The fear drove me to Miss Chiru’s room at 2 a.m., shaking as I recounted what I had seen. At first, she dismissed it as a nightmare. But two years later, my dream came true. The exact scene I had witnessed in my sleep unfolded in reality.

From that day, she believed me. And because of that belief, we had saved four lives.

———

Now, one year since I left the orphanage, it was February 29th again.

I dreaded the night. I knew what was coming. Another vision. Another death. Another life to save.

With a deep breath, I turned off the lamp and lay down, waiting for the nightmare to begin.

———

In my dream, I was walking down a road, phone in hand, when a deafening crash shattered the silence. A speeding bike slammed into a wall, the rider thrown across the pavement. People gathered, their faces pale with shock.

The young man lay there—tall, with black, messy hair, now stained with blood. His life slipped away as sirens wailed in the distance, too late to save him.

I woke up with a start, my heart racing.

The countdown had begun.

This was my mission. I had to save him.

Chapter 2: The Search Begins

The moment Avni woke up, she knew she couldn’t waste a single second. The dream had never been wrong before. If she didn’t act fast, another life would be lost. His life.

But where was he? Who was he? She had no name, no location—just the haunting image of his lifeless body sprawled on the pavement. The urgency clawed at her chest, making it hard to breathe. She had saved people before, but this time felt different. More intense. More personal.

She grabbed her laptop and started her search online. Street racers. Underground bikers. Local racing events. She scoured every result, hoping for a clue. If he was speeding at such a dangerous pace in her vision, there was a high chance he was part of the city’s illegal street racing scene.

She typed furiously, her fingers shaking with adrenaline. Forums, Facebook groups, Instagram hashtags—she clicked on every possible lead. She read through comments and watched videos of bikers flaunting their stunts.

Then, she found something—a post from a group called “Westwood Riders.” The video showed a group of bikers speeding through the city at night, weaving through traffic like shadows. The caption read: “Catch us if you can! #WestwoodRiders”

Her heart pounded. Westwood. The same area she had seen in her dream.

She played the video on repeat, analyzing every frame. The roaring engines, the blurred city lights, the rush of adrenaline in their reckless movements—it all matched the energy of her dream. Then, she spotted him. Black messy hair. Tall build. He was riding at the front, fast and fearless.

It had to be him.

She grabbed her coat and rushed out the door.

———

For the next week, Avni became obsessed. She roamed the city, visiting bike garages, local cafés, and bars—anywhere bikers might hang out. She asked discreet questions, hoping someone had seen him.

She spent hours walking through Westwood’s dimly lit streets, searching for the slightest clue. Every time she saw a biker with dark hair, her heart would leap, only to be crushed moments later when she realized it wasn’t him. Frustration built inside her, but she refused to give up.

At night, she barely slept. Every moment counted. She kept going back to the video, memorizing every small detail—the way he leaned into turns, the subtle red mark on his wrist when he briefly lifted his hand. These were the little things she needed to recognize him in person.

She also started researching the city's illegal racing circuits, looking for upcoming events. Many were secretive, invite-only affairs, but whispers of a major race happening in three days gave her renewed hope.

By the fourth day, she was exhausted, but she had no choice but to push forward. She stopped by every auto shop and bike repair garage in the area, asking if they had seen the biker from the video. Most shrugged, uninterested in helping, while others dismissed her completely.

She even went to underground bars rumored to be meeting spots for racers, keeping her ears open for any mention of Westwood Riders or the mysterious biker from her dream. She forced herself to blend in, pretending to be just another curious spectator, all while searching desperately for a lead.

By the sixth day, she was on the verge of giving up. Doubt crept in. What if I’m too late? What if I can’t save him?

But then, she finally got a break.

At a rundown garage on Hudson Street, she overheard a conversation between two mechanics.

“Did you hear about Rey? Nearly wiped out last night,” one said, wiping grease off his hands.

“Yeah, lucky bastard. That guy rides like he’s got a death wish,” the other chuckled.

Avni’s heart skipped a beat. Rey. Could it be him?

She took a deep breath and approached them. “Hey, sorry to interrupt. I’m looking for someone named Rey. Do you know where I can find him?”

The first guy gave her a once-over, his expression wary. “Who’s asking?”

She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “I need to talk to him. It’s important.”

The second mechanic smirked. “You’re not the first girl looking for Rey.”

Avni clenched her fists, keeping her voice steady. “It’s not like that. I just—”

A voice behind her cut in. “What do you want with me?”

She turned.

There he was. Rey.

The man from her dream stood in front of her, very much alive—for now.

Her breath caught in her throat. He looked even more intense up close—tall, with piercing eyes that seemed to challenge her before she could even speak. His knuckles were bruised, a small cut on his forehead hinting at a recent accident.

Avni swallowed hard. She had found him.

But the real challenge had just begun.

———

To be continued......

Chapter 3: Face to Face

For a moment, Avni couldn’t speak. The world seemed to shrink around her, the hum of the garage fading into a distant buzz. Rey stood there, his dark eyes locked on hers, waiting for an answer. Up close, he was exactly as she’d seen him in her dream—messy black hair falling over his forehead, the faint red mark on his wrist peeking out from under his jacket sleeve. But there was something else, something the dream hadn’t captured: a raw, restless energy that radiated off him, like a storm barely contained.

She forced herself to breathe. “I need to talk to you,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “Alone.”

Rey tilted his head, studying her with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. The mechanics exchanged a glance, one of them snickering under his breath, but Rey didn’t break eye contact. “You’ve got five minutes,” he said finally, jerking his head toward the back of the garage. “Follow me.”

Avni nodded, her pulse racing as she trailed him past racks of tools and half-assembled bikes. He led her to a cluttered corner where an old couch sat against the wall, littered with grease-stained rags and empty beer cans. He didn’t sit, just leaned against a workbench, arms crossed, waiting for her to start.

She took a deep breath, unsure how to begin. How do you tell someone you’ve seen them die? “I know this is going to sound crazy,” she said, meeting his gaze. “But I’ve seen you before. In a dream. You were racing, and… you didn’t make it.”

Rey’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his eyes—amusement, maybe, or disbelief. “A dream,” he repeated, his tone flat. “You tracked me down because of a nightmare?”

“It’s not just a nightmare,” she snapped, frustration bubbling up. “It’s real. It’s happened before—I see things, and they come true. People die if I don’t stop it. And last night, I saw you crash. On a street in Westwood. You were bleeding out on the pavement.”

He raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “I ride fast. Crashing’s part of the deal. You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.”

Avni clenched her fists, resisting the urge to shake him. “This isn’t just a crash. You don’t get up from this one. I’ve been looking for you all week because I don’t want it to happen.”Rey pushed off the workbench, stepping closer. Too close. She could smell the faint tang of motor oil and leather on him. “And what’s in it for you?” he asked, his voice low, almost a challenge. “Why do you care if some guy you don’t even know eats pavement?”

She faltered. Why did she care? She’d saved strangers before, driven by the guilt of knowing she could stop their deaths. But this time, the dream had gripped her harder, sunk its claws deeper. “I don’t know,” she admitted, holding his stare. “I just… I can’t let it happen.”

He let out a short, dry laugh, stepping back. “You’re either nuts or a hell of a liar.Parker Schnabel. I don’t know what’s worse—saving lives or dodging death like it’s a game.”

Avni glared at him. “Call it what you want. I’m not here to play hero. I’m here because I don’t have a choice.”

For the first time, Rey’s smirk faded. He looked at her—really looked at her—like he was trying to figure out if she was for real. “Alright,” he said after a beat. “Say I buy this. What’s your plan? Lock me in a basement ‘til the dream passes?”

“No,” she said, her mind racing. “There’s a race in two days. I think that’s when it happens. If I can figure out where and when, maybe I can stop it.”

He snorted. “Westwood Riders don’t advertise. You won’t find it unless you’re in.”

“Then get me in,” she shot back, desperation creeping into her voice. “You’re one of them. You can make it happen.”

Rey stared at her, his jaw tight. “You don’t know what you’re asking. These guys don’t mess around. You show up, some random girl with a death prophecy, and they’ll laugh you out—or worse.”

“I’ll take the risk,” she said, stepping toward him. “I’ve got two days to convince you I’m not crazy. Let me come with you. Watch you ride. If I’m wrong, you never see me again. If I’m right, you live.”

He didn’t answer right away. The silence stretched, heavy and thick, as he weighed her words. Finally, he shoved his hands in his pockets, his gaze cutting through her. “Tomorrow night. Meet me here at ten. We’ll see what you’re made of.”

Avni exhaled, relief flooding her. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he said, turning toward the garage door. “You’re the one who’s gotta keep up.”

She watched him walk away, his silhouette disappearing into the shadows of the garage. Her heart was still pounding, but for the first time in days, she felt a spark of hope. She’d found him. She’d convinced him—at least for now. But the clock was ticking, and she had no idea what she was walking into.

The next night couldn’t come fast enough.