The River Knows

OnWay Back

The clock on the wall ticked past 9:00 PM, the sound barely noticeable over the movie playing on Anika’s small TV.

Both girls were curled up on the floor, noodles long gone, sipping cola and completely lost in the world of “Crazy Rich Asians.”

“Ugh, I want that kind of rich, dramatic love,” Anika sighed, hugging a pillow.

Tara giggled. “You want drama? You already have it — every time a coffee bean shipment is delayed.”

“Touché,” Anika said, throwing a popcorn at her.

Just then, Anika’s father’s voice came from downstairs, “Girls! It’s late already! Go get some sleep!”

Anika groaned. “Appaaa, five more minutes!”

Tara laughed and glanced at her phone. “Oh no—it’s really nine. I should go before Amma starts calling.”

She grabbed her side bag and phone, got up, and headed down the stairs.

Anika followed behind, still munching on popcorn. “You sure you don’t want to stay over?”

“I wish I could,” Tara said with a small smile, slipping her sandals on.

“Alright then, Miss Office Lady,” Anika teased. “Don’t forget me after you become rich and famous.”

Tara chuckled. “Never. I’ll make you my personal chef.”

As they reached the ground floor, Anika’s father was waiting near the counter.

“Leaving already, Tara?” he asked warmly.

“Yes, Uncle. And… actually, I wanted to tell you — I got the job! I’m joining tomorrow!”

His face lit up instantly. “Ah, that’s wonderful news, beta! I always knew you’d get something good. Hard work always finds its way back. Congratulations!”

Tara smiled brightly, bowing her head slightly. “Thank you so much, Uncle.”

“Drive safe, okay? It’s getting late,” he said, patting her shoulder gently.

“Good night!” she said.

“Good night, child,” he replied with a kind smile.

Tara stepped outside and hopped on her yellow scooty, adjusting her helmet. Just as she was about to start the engine, a loud voice echoed from above.

“Taraaa!”

She looked up. Anika was standing on the balcony, waving both hands like an overexcited cheerleader.

“Go rock that first day tomorrow, girl!” she shouted. “Remember — you’re the main character! Confidence on, worries off! Slay that desk job like it’s a runway!”

Tara burst out laughing. “You’re crazy!”

“Crazy supportive!” Anika yelled back, striking a mock superhero pose.

Tara blew her a kiss and started the engine. “See you soon, drama queen!”

“Text me the moment you reach!” Anika shouted one last time before Tara drove off into the cool night breeze.

The streetlights shimmered across the empty roads, and the air carried a mix of jasmine and late-night calm. Tara felt a quiet smile tug at her lips as the city blurred past.

Behind her, in the café above, Anika returned to the couch, curled under a blanket, and pressed play again on the half-finished movie. The flickering light danced across her sleepy face as she mumbled,

“Go get your new beginning, Tara.”

And with that, she dozed off — TV still on, popcorn scattered, and her heart full of quiet pride for her best friend.

The road stretched endlessly before her, washed in the golden glow of streetlights. The night air was cool, almost teasing as it brushed against her skin. Her long hair danced in the breeze beneath the helmet, and for the first time in a while, Tara felt… alive.

The city was quiet — just the soft hum of her yellow scooty and the occasional bark of a distant dog. She smiled faintly, her thoughts drifting between the warmth of Anika’s laughter and the promise of a new beginning.

“This feels good,” she whispered to herself. “Like everything’s finally falling into place.”

But fate, as always, had its own sense of timing.

As she reached the main junction near her neighborhood, her scooter headlights caught the gleam of something — a black, sleek car speeding toward the same turn.

Before she could react, the car swerved dangerously close, missing her by inches. Tara slammed the brakes, her heart pounding so hard it echoed in her ears.

The scooter jerked to a stop. For a second, everything froze. Her fingers trembled on the handlebar, her breath short and uneven.

“Oh my god…” she gasped, pressing a hand to her chest.

The car halted too, tires screeching softly against the asphalt. The tinted window slowly rolled down, revealing a young man in a crisp white shirt. His expression — startled, concerned.

Tara’s fear turned into irritation within seconds. Straightening up, she glared at him and shouted,

“Don’t know how to drive? Where are you going at this speed?”

Her voice sliced through the still night. She sounded bolder than she felt — her pulse still erratic, legs slightly shaking.

The man looked genuinely taken aback. “I— I’m sorry, girl. I didn’t mean to. I just didn’t see you coming.”

Something about his tone — calm, apologetic, and oddly soft — disarmed her. He didn’t look arrogant or defensive, just… sincere.

Tara blinked, her anger fading just a little. “Whatever,” she muttered under her breath.

She steadied her scooty, adjusted her bag, and turned right toward her street. The man stayed there for a moment, watching her drive away, a faint frown of recognition crossing his face.

Tara didn’t look back. She didn’t want to.

But as the road grew quieter again and her house lights came into view, a strange thought whispered through her mind — a familiar unease she couldn’t explain.

“Why did he feel… familiar?” she murmured.

She shook it off, parked her scooty at the gate, and exhaled deeply. The night chill still lingered, brushing against her skin as if reminding her — some stories aren’t done yet.

From inside the black luxurious car, a deep, velvety voice sliced through the silence.

“Rayan, what was that noise?”

The young secretary froze for a moment before leaning closer to the window. “Sir, it was a girl on a scooty. I—I think I almost hit her at the junction.”

The man inside slowly looked up from the file resting on his lap. His dark eyes reflected the passing streetlights like shards of glass. “You what?” he asked, his tone calm but cold enough to make Rayan’s throat dry.

“She shouted, sir. Out of shock, maybe. I already apologized.”

A brief pause filled the car — heavy, sharp. Then, the man gave a faint chuckle, low and arrogant. “A random girl shouting at my car?” He leaned back, tossing the file onto the seat beside him. “She’s bold… or stupid.”

Rayan swallowed. “Sir, it wasn’t her fault—”

“Did I ask whose fault it was?” The man’s voice grew harder. He pulled off his glasses, rubbing his temple. “People like her should learn when to stay quiet.”

Rayan didn’t dare reply. He simply nodded and got back behind the wheel. The car started again, its quiet hum replacing the tension that hung in the air.

The man inside — Arjun Malhotra, known for his power as much as for his pride — leaned his head against the seat, eyes fixed on the dark horizon. “Arrogant girl,” he muttered under his breath.

Outside, the night wind whispered past, as if carrying a secret — two strangers brushing paths, unaware of how this small spark was just the beginning.