Across the Golden Gate
1543 Words
Before dawn broke, a stream of cars sped across the Golden Gate Bridge. Not only cars—foreign tourists and local pedestrians too were moving at their own pace toward their destinations. Beyond San Francisco’s small suburb, stepping into the main city felt as if life itself was moving on foot and by machine at once. As a tourism hotspot, the place was always crowded.
Seated in a convertible Mercedes, Aurora stared around like a bewildered child, her eyes darting at the bustling scene as though she were seeing living beings for the first time in a thousand years. After a month of isolation in that silent, deserted house, she was sick of the walls. Her introverted nature had kept her sane—anyone else might have gone mad.
Kritik pressed a button and the car’s roof rose, enclosing her view. Aurora glared at him, dark-faced.
His sharp jawline tensed as always, a black square-shaped sunglass masking the beauty of his eyes. From staring straight at the road to steering the car with one hand, every move dripped with masculine elegance and privilege. Anyone would fall for this man at first sight—yet Aurora wondered why his behavior was so inhuman. This outer beauty never matched the inner man she had seen.
“Stop looking at me. You’re distracting me,” he snapped.
Aurora instantly dropped her gaze to her hands. Wrapped around her palm was the stark white bandage—the wound he himself had caused. Today was her first day at university, and she was going with him only because he was a professor there. He’d already warned her: first and last time. After today, she would have only a small pedal bike assigned to her.
While Aurora picked at the bandage, lost in unwanted thoughts, her phone rang. She picked up hurriedly before the caller could speak.
“Hello Nilima! Finally you called! Do you know how many times I tried to reach you last night? Not once did you pick up!”
Aurora’s voice was excited; Nilima’s sounded drained.
“I didn’t realize it was you,” Nilima said, “and I was at the hospital all night without my phone.”
“Why? What happened? Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. But Tithi…”
At the mention of Tithi, Aurora remembered the countless insults from that girl and felt a surge of hatred—but she licked her lips and asked, “What happened?”
Nilima’s voice cracked. “I don’t know Aurora. Our Tithi—the cheerful one—suddenly everything collapsed. In just one day the university canceled her studentship over a petty issue, and that same day her father lost his high post job. Years of career—gone. And the strangest part is her father worked in J.K. Group’s marketing department. Gone overnight. Can you imagine their mental state?”
“Then why were you at the hospital?”
“Tithi’s mother couldn’t take it—she had a stroke last night. I stayed there.”
Aurora sighed deeply. “How is Aunt now?”
“Better. Now tell me about you, Aurora?”
Aurora cut her off: “Later. First tell me, which university did Nikhil Bhai get into?”
The moment Nikhil’s name left her lips, Kritik slammed the brakes. Aurora’s chest lurched forward, barely avoiding a fall. Before she could react, Kritik snatched the phone from her hand and hurled it into the middle of the road. Her beloved Hello Kitty phone shattered into pieces.
Aurora gasped at her destroyed phone, glaring at him like a furious tigress. But he gave no chance to speak. He flung the car door open and roared: “Get out.”
“What? In the middle of the road?”
“Get out.”
He dragged her out, handed her a hundred-dollar bill.
“The bus stop is ahead. The next bus goes straight to the university.”
Then he slammed the door, tossed his black coat out the window at her face.
“I didn’t give it to you to hold like a singer. Wear it,” he said, disappearing into the sea of cars.
Aurora stared after the vanishing Mercedes, thinking: Is Kritik even human?
---
Wrapped in his coat, Aurora finally reached the university, forcing herself not to crumble. She had to continue her studies no matter what. But as she crossed the gate, she suddenly saw the familiar dusky face of Nikhil Bhai—headphones in, reading on the broad campus steps.
Like a tide swelling within her, she whispered, “Nikhil Bhai?” and moved forward—but two beautiful foreign women reached him first. He laughed with them. Aurora stopped at a distance and softly asked, “Are you well, Nikhil Bhai?”
From another angle, fists clenched, Kritik watched everything. Though Aurora had taken the bus, he had followed in his car and entered the campus right after her. But his eyes now held not anger, only a mysterious crooked smile. My foolish bird, he muttered. If you knew the truth, how much it would hurt you. But I’m okay with that. Because you are only mine.
---
Today nothing went right for Aurora. First the ride with that bad-tempered man, then the street incident, then missing a proper reunion with Nikhil, and now being thrown out of class by Kritik himself. In truth, it was Aurora’s fault—peeking out during class to look for Nikhil Bhai. But why had Kritik placed her in Economics instead of Bangla? This international university had plenty of foreign students and departments—why Economics?
She sat on the steps, mind battling itself, when Nikhil appeared with a laptop bag. “Aurora?”
Startled, she turned to see his dimpled smile. She stood, but still shy.
“I saw you from the third-floor lab,” he said, “and had to come down.”
“I’m here in the Economics Department, first year,” she murmured.
“How is Tithi? Why is her phone off?” Nikhil asked immediately.
His eagerness about Tithi deflated Aurora’s smile. At that moment, from the classroom window, Kritik phoned a friend softly:
“Hack the university’s CCTV system. Just five minutes.”
---
Aurora avoided talking about Tithi, but Nikhil pressed again. She wondered, You don’t ask how I came here, or why. Only Tithi. Before she could answer, Nikhil got a call and rushed back upstairs.
Shaken, Aurora muttered, “What’s happening today?”
Then a girl with glasses approached, holding out her hand.
“Hello, I’m Sayani Mukherjee from India.”
Relieved to meet someone from a neighboring country, Aurora smiled. “I’m Aurora Sheikh—Aru.”
“Sweet name. Come to the canteen, I’ll show you the best food,” Sayani said.
As they walked, Sayani asked, “Why did J.K. Sir scold you like that? He’s usually professional.”
“I don’t know,” Aurora said but thought: Your J.K. Sir scolds me all the time.
Sayani chattered on. “Do you know J.K. Sir is a great rider? In university he’s cool, but on a bike he’s desperate and dashing—like a chocolate boy.”
Aurora had only seen him ride video-game bikes. “Really? I didn’t know.”
Sayani pulled out two tickets. “Tomorrow is the university’s hundred-year ceremony, no classes all day. Next day J.K. Sir’s riding match. I’ll take you.” She slipped a ticket into Aurora’s bag.
---
Evening fell quickly. Aurora exited the gate wrapped in Kritik’s coat. Outside, leaning against his car, Kritik was checking his watch.
“Why so late?” he asked when she reached.
Aurora didn’t answer, studying his face. This sullen man—girls call him a rider? What’s so special about his riding?
“What?” he snapped at her stare.
She jumped back.
“Why are you moving away? Come here,” he ordered.
“W-why?”
“Because I said so. Come.”
Before she could respond, Nikhil arrived with his bicycle.
“Aurora, going home? Come, I’ll drop you,” he said warmly.
Aurora’s heart leapt. She glanced at Kritik, then at Nikhil. “I…I want to go with Nikhil Bhai,” she managed to say.
“Yeah sure,” Kritik replied calmly.
Aurora almost screamed with joy but contained herself, climbing onto the bicycle. Kritik stood still, running his fingers through his long hair as if nothing mattered. Then under his breath he counted:
“Five, four, three, two, one… zero.”
A metallic crash rang out. The bicycle tire burst. Nikhil fell, scraping himself badly; Aurora too was hurt.
Kritik rushed over, “Are you all right, Mr. Nikhil?” Without waiting for an answer, he lifted Aurora in his arms.
“Aren’t you going to help Nikhil Bhai?” she cried.
“I’m not interested in him,” Kritik said, “I’m interested in the one I’m taking with me.”
“Who?” she asked.
“Believe me, Aru,” he growled, “one more word and I’ll leave you here. You know I do what I say. I don’t waste my time. Full stop.”
Aurora fell silent, resting her head against his broad shoulder.
- Writer
