He is still holding the tiny handmade motorcycle.
His hands tremble slightly.
Camera CLOSE-UP — a hidden engraved mark on the metal.
His eyes widen.
FLASH — a memory: younger days, another biker, laughter, and a promise broken too soon.
BACK TO PRESENT.
The leader steps closer to the boy.
LEADER (shaken):
“What is your father’s name?”
The boy swallows, still crying.
BOY:
“He said… you left him.”
A heavy pause.
BOY (voice breaking):
“His name was Arman…”
The leader’s face changes instantly.
Shock. Guilt. Pain.
He steps back like he’s been hit.
LEADER (whisper):
“No… that can’t be…”
The bikers look at each other, confused.
The boy continues, trembling:
BOY:
“He told me… if anything happens… find you…”
Silence crushes everything.
The leader slowly drops to his knees.
LEADER (broken):
“I thought I lost him…”
He looks at the boy — not as a stranger anymore.
LEADER (soft):
“I never stopped looking for him…”
FINAL SHOT — the tiny motorcycle between them, sunlight reflecting off its worn metal.
CUT TO BLACK.
TEXT: “The past doesn’t end… it returns.”
