The studio lights flicker off one by one as she steps out into the cool night, her muscles still humming from the last routine. The world feels quieter here—no music, no mirrors, just the echo of her footsteps on the pavement. She pulls her jacket tighter around her, exhaling slowly, trying to let go of the counts still ticking in her head. Then she hears it. The low growl of an engine cuts through the silence. A motorbike idles at the edge of the street, its rider half-hidden in shadow. Black leather, still as the night itself—watching, or maybe just waiting. She should keep walking. But for some reason, she doesn’t.