In the distant corners of my memory, a single sound lingers with clarity: the unmistakable, thundering pulse of a Royal Enfield Bullet. It sounds like a heartbeat — dug, dug, dug, dug, dug, dug, dug, dug… It is a sound that defines not just the engine beneath me but an era in my life filled with love, rebellion, loss, and, ultimately, rediscovery. That beat, more than any other memory, has come to symbolise the pivotal changes in my life — changes that began with a motorcycle ride and, somehow, circled back to save the marriage that seemed destined to fall apart.
I am a man in my early forties. I head a large multinational corporation. Married with children. On paper, my life is successful; very comfortable. Yet, for the longest time, it felt broken. The marriage, especially, was strained. We had drifted so far apart that I had come to wonder if the people we were once meant to be — the lovers who used to sneak away on midnight rides — had ever existed at all.
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