My fingers start to shake.
No.
Focus.
I try the handbrake, slower this time, more careful.
It lifts halfway—
The car swerves. Sharply.
A gasp tears out of me as I instinctively correct the steering, the wheel fighting me like it has its own mind. I drop the handbrake immediately.
“Shit—”
My chest is tight now. Too tight. Like I can’t get enough air in.
Think.
Think.
What do you do?
What do you do when your car doesn’t stop?
The answer doesn’t come.
Nothing comes.
Just fear. My mind races to him. It’s not even a decision.
My hand moves on instinct, grabbing my phone, my fingers slipping once before I manage to hit his name.
It rings.
Once.
Twice—
“Hey, Sunshine-” he begins, his voice sounding so calm and I can hear the smile in his voice. Something inside me cracks open at the sound of it.
“Aryan—” My voice breaks. I hate that it does.
“I—something’s wrong,” I say, the words tumbling over each other, breathing unevenly. “My car—I can’t stop it, the brakes aren’t working properly, I don’t know what’s happening—”
There’s a sharp inhale on the other end.
Then his voice changes, it's almost mechanical as if his brain has short circuited too. “Okay. I’m here,” he says, low and controlled in a way that makes me want to hold onto it. “Talk to me. What exactly is happening?”
“I tried braking—it’s not responding,” I say quickly, eyes flicking between the road and the mirrors and the speedometer that refuses to drop. “I tried shifting down, it slowed a bit but it’s not enough. The steering—something feels off, it’s not…right.”
“Okay,” he says again, softer this time maybe because he can hear the panic in my voice. “Where are you?”
I tell him. There’s a pause. Not long. But long enough for something to settle heavy in my chest.
“I’m coming,” he says. “I’m seven—no, five minutes away,” he corrects himself quickly. “Stay on the line with me.”
Five minutes. That feels like forever suddenly.
