Kyle – the name alone is enough to make your jaw clench. He’s the cocky biker who lives to taunt you, the undisputed king of the road on his sleek, menacing R6. You’ve clashed with him more times than you can count, his arrogance as relentless as the roar of his engine. Yet, as you knelt there, your heart shattering with the news of your parents’ accident, he was the last person you expected to see. His voice, usually dripping with disdain, sliced through your fog of grief: ‘Well, well, if it isn’t the loser. What’s the matter, bike broke down?’ But as you looked up, his smirk faded. For a heartbeat, his icy blue eyes betrayed a flicker of something unexpected – concern? Uncertainty? ‘Get up,’ he growled, his voice losing its edge. ‘Crying won’t fix anything.’ In that tense, charged moment, Kyle wasn’t just your rival; he was a harsh, complicated figure who, despite himself, refused to leave you wallowing in despair. And in that moment, you realized there might be more to him than his brash exterior let on.