Elisys

He glances at Kelly smoothing her hair. She’s beautiful, no denying that. Her dress fits her like a glove. She’s the perfect girlfriend — and he knows he’s lucky. But something’s missing. He doesn’t feel complete.

He once tried to bring it up with his father, who just laughed and told him to grow up, that only kids thought like that, not men. So Max clenched his jaw, nodded, and buried the feeling deep down, hoping it would fade.

“I’m going to get some air,” he mutters, stepping out without looking back at Kelly.

His feet carry him to the lobby, then out to the hotel patio. It’s nearly empty. He finds a bench by the fountain, closes his eyes, and breathes deep. Everything will be fine. He’ll talk to Lewis, settle things, and start 2023 on the right foot.

His moment of calm is broken by a string of curses that make him turn his head — and his jaw almost drops. She’s here. In an evening gown, her hair pinned in a low bun. She’s stunning. Effortlessly stunning.

He stands, moving toward her carefully, as if one wrong step might scare her off.

“Katherine?”

She whips her head around so fast he’s afraid she’ll hurt her neck. She’s even more beautiful up close. His gaze flickers down — that’s when he notices the unusually large tear in her dress.

“Wardrobe malfunction?” he asks, mentally cursing himself for the idiotic question.

“Yeah… I should’ve known a cheap Amazon dress was bound to end in disaster,” she sighs.

“Funny running into you here.”

“Funny for you maybe, not for me. Sorry if that sounds bad — I’m not stalking you, promise. I’m working tonight. Shooting the event. Actually, I should be thanking you. Well, not you exactly — your team. Someone passed along my number to the FIA’s media department, and they reached out,” she explains awkwardly.

“I’m glad they did,” Max says. “I saw the photos — no denying you’re talented. You’re exactly the kind of person who can make a boring night like this feel a little more magical.”

He sees her blush, and it makes him proud. He makes Kelly blush too, but it’s not the same. It doesn’t give him this… satisfaction. Stupid, really. Kelly is his girlfriend. She’s the one he should want to tease. The one who should pull him in.

He shouldn’t be drawn to this woman with caramel eyes. Shouldn’t be imagining his hands tangled in her curls, or worse — the taste of her lips. Not when he’s in a relationship. Not when Kat is basically a stranger.

“Yeah, well, maybe I can’t do much. I mean, I can’t exactly show up looking like this.”

“I can help.”

“Unless you’ve secretly got sewing skills, I don’t see how.”

“I can’t sew, but I’ve got contacts.”

“You don’t have to…” she shifts from one foot to the other.

“It’s nothing, really. And a few people owe me favors.”

“I don’t know… but I guess I don’t have much choice if I don’t want to look like a mess in a fancy place like this.”

It only takes him thirty minutes to arrange a delivery to the hotel. While they wait in the lobby, they actually get to know each other a little.

“I’m from Belgium, a small place near Brussels. Lived there until I was twenty, then hit the road as a freelance photographer. It’s amazing, traveling — I’ve seen so many countries, landscapes. I feel lucky.”

“Belgium? What are the odds. I grew up there too.”

“Small world…”

“Really small. And I agree, traveling’s great, but it can wear you down. You don’t realize how much you love your bed until you don’t sleep in it anymore,” he laughs.

Silence falls, but it’s comfortable. For once, Max doesn’t feel the need to fill the air. He leans back, sneaking a glance at Kat, who’s fidgeting with her ring.

The question he’s been holding back since Abu Dhabi escapes.

“Your fiancé into F1?”

She freezes, finally letting go of the ring.

“No, not at all. Not really into sports in general. More of an artsy type.”

“And he’s fine with you traveling the world? Must not be easy every day.”

“He’s always with me. Even when he’s not,” she answers simply, fiddling with her dress. Max is about to press when someone walks in carrying a package.

“Special delivery for Max Verstappen,” the courier announces, looking out of breath. Must’ve run, Kat thinks, and a wave of guilt washes over her. She doesn’t want to be a burden.

Max grabs the emerald-green box tied with a black ribbon, thanks the man quickly, and hands it to Kat. She hesitates for a second.

“You didn’t have to do this…” she murmurs, cheeks pink, fingers tugging nervously at the bow.

“Think of it as saving your dignity. Not for you, really — more for all those old guys inside who’d probably keel over if you walked in looking like you came straight from the local strip club.”

“Charming.”

He can tell he’s offended her. That wasn’t his intention. Or maybe it was. He doesn’t even know. He needs to keep her at arm’s length. It’s the right thing. The sensible thing.

He has Kelly. Damn it.

He shouldn’t be out here arranging evening gowns for a girl he barely knows. He should be inside, with the woman he’s supposed to love, taking Instagram selfies to prove they’re the perfect couple, shaking hands, saying how thrilled he is to be there.

“I mean… it’s still better than your ripped dress.”

Kat blinks, thrown off by his hot-and-cold routine. She sighs and heads toward the bathroom with the box. Max stays behind, watching her go, her steps uncertain. His gaze drifts.

He knows he was cold. Harsh, even. He could’ve been kind. Could’ve said something normal. But no — he shut down.

Because she irritates him. Because she draws him in.

Because he doesn’t want to feel what he feels.

It’s easier to push her away.

When she comes back, he sneaks a glance. The dress fits. Too well. He looks away immediately.

“Not worse than the other one,” he mutters.

Kat frowns but lets it slide. He feels her eyes on him, waiting for something more, something real. He gives her nothing.

“I should go,” she finally says quietly. “They’re waiting for me.”

He nods.

“Do what you need to do.”

She leaves.

And he’s left alone with that damn knot in his stomach.

It isn’t longing. It isn’t desire. It’s messier than that. More dangerous.

She makes him nervous. That unflinching gaze. The way she doesn’t play games, doesn’t expect anything from him. She doesn’t look at him like he’s a champion. No awe, no hero worship.

She’s just… there.

And it drives him crazy.

He heads back inside. Lights, flashes, champagne glasses. Everything feels too much. He shakes hands, smiles mechanically. Against his better judgment, his eyes search for Kat. He finds her — focused, professional, keeping her distance.

She ignores him completely.

And he hates it.

Later in the evening, she brushes past him by accident on her way across the room. He catches her scent — simple, unpretentious. Real.

He turns to her, speaking before he can stop himself.

“I hope you’re at least making me look good.”

She lifts her eyes to his, surprised, then answers calmly:

“I take pictures of masks.”

Max blinks. Doesn’t get it.

Kat sees his confusion and explains:

“People always put on a version of themselves. Especially at nights like this. Perfect smile, confident eyes, poised stance… it’s rarely genuine. It’s a mask. And that’s what I capture. Because sometimes, what we try to hide is more visible than what we show.”

She says it without malice, without provocation — just a statement. But Max feels exposed. Stripped bare.

He crosses his arms like a shield, frowning slightly.

“What, you psychoanalyzing me now?

Kat shrugs lightly.

“You asked a question. I answered.”

She holds his gaze for a moment with those big caramel eyes before looking away, adjusting her camera. Her movements aren’t tense, but Max’s gut twists.

She unsettles him — not because she tries, but because she doesn’t. Because she’s just there. Honest. Raw. And he has no idea how to deal with that.

He feels the need to seize back control.

“You act like you see through everyone.”

Kat smiles then, but without warmth.

“No. But I watch. You, for example… you work very hard to look detached.”

Mas’s jaw tightens.

“And you work very hard to make it seem like you’re fine.”

Kat’s head lifts slowly, surprised. His tone isn’t mocking — just sharp. Like he’s throwing her own words back at her, not to wound, but because he can’t help himself.

“You talk like you see through people, but the way you grip that camera… it’s like a weapon. Like it’s your only shield. Like you’re scared someone might look back at you.”

He sees her freeze — just for a split second. Then she forces a smile, one that never reaches her eyes.

Silence falls between them, heavy with everything unsaid.

It’s warm in the ballroom, but a door opens somewhere, letting in a draft of cold air that makes Kat shiver. Max notices her bare arms, but does nothing. Doesn’t move.

He wants to say something. Feels the impulse clawing at his throat. But the words won’t come. He’s afraid of saying too much. Or not enough.

So he falls back on arrogance — his old ally.

“Shame you’re wasting all that talent on nights like this.”

Kat laughs softly — short and sharp.

“Shame you’re wasting all that potential pretending to be an aloof asshole.”

Max raises a brow. He should be angry. He should snap back with something cutting. But instead, he laughs — a short, surprised sound.

“Touché.”

Kat tilts her head, mock solemn.

“Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. I’m a photographer, not a journalist.”

He shakes his head, unsure if she annoys him or disarms him. Probably both.

He clears his throat, acutely aware of her gaze on him. Direct. Piercing. The kind of look that makes him too conscious of himself, of where he stands, of the space he takes up.

Finally, he breaks the silence.

“You should get back to work.”

“I am working,” she says simply, nodding toward her camera.

And with that, she leaves him standing there, not an ounce of regret in her step.

Max watches her go, her dress flowing around her legs like a calm tide. She doesn’t look back. She doesn’t need to.

He knows she knows.

And it infuriates him.

And it fascinates him.

And it terrifies him.

Because with her, he’s not in control.

Not even of himself.

ooOoo

Author's note : I know, I know — it’s been a while 😅 Life got in the way and this chapter kind of slipped through the cracks… but we’re back!

And wow, things are heating up, right? Max and Kat can’t seem to stay away from each other (even though they really should). The tension at the gala nearly wrote itself. So tell me — do you think Adam’s the one losing control here, or is Kat the one dancing a little too close to the edge?

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience.

taglist : @teamnovalak @kevynnashley @slutforpopculture @mynameisangeloflife @avocadomuncher15 @anaylen01

He mumbles an apology to Kelly and leaves her behind. He feels foolish, but promises to make it up later. For now, he needs to see her, to talk to her, to do… something.

He scans the crowd until he spots her, tucked away in a dark corner. His legs move on their own, and soon he’s standing in front of her.

She looks up — big, shining caramel eyes, rebellious brown curls escaping from her ponytail.

His fingers twitch, and he wants to run his hand through her hair.

Her mouth opens, and for a second, she looks like a deer caught in headlights — then she pulls herself together.

“Hi,” she says simply, clutching her camera like a lifeline.

Max opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. He wants to say something smart, something funny — but that’s not what escapes.

“You’re not part of the team.”

She stiffens, raises an eyebrow, challenging him.

“Because I’m not. I’m freelance. Doing a favor for a friend. Believe me, I have zero interest in staying here longer than I have to. I don’t even know what they’re celebrating. Not that I care. I’m just here for the money, then I’m out.”

Maybe she’s saying too much, but Max finds it attractive.

“They’re celebrating me,” he says, instantly regretting his cocky tone.

She shakes her head, rolls her eyes.

“And you are exactly who, Mr. Big Ego?”

She laughs at him, and normally, if it were someone else, he’d wipe that smile off her face. But somehow, it doesn’t bother him.

“I’m Max Verstappen,” he finally says, holding out his hand.

“Katherine Steven. But everyone calls me Kat.”

She takes his hand, and Max swears he feels a jolt. Her palm is warm, not sweaty against his. When she pulls away, he suddenly feels cold.

He also notices the diamond ring sparkling on her finger.

Of course she’s engaged.

He doesn’t understand why his chest tightens. He knows nothing about her, seeing an engagement ring shouldn’t affect him. Not when he has a girlfriend.

“Well, Kat… nice to meet you. Maybe see you around,” he says, wanting to keep talking, but he sees Christian, his team principal, and Geri, his wife, waving at him.

That’s the perfect escape. One more minute with her and he’d embarrass himself.

“I don’t think we’ll meet again, but it was nice. Congrats on… whatever you won.”

He laughs and starts to turn away — then feels her hand on his wrist, stopping him.

“Wait! I don’t want to sound weird, but… haven’t we met before?”

He wants to say yes. This is his chance. But for the first time in a long while, he’s scared.

“I don’t think so. I’d remember.”

She takes a step back, suddenly very interested in the floor.

“I must be confusing you with someone else. You must have a very common face.”

“I guess so,” he repeats, throat tight.

You’re an idiot, Max thinks as he weaves through sweaty bodies.

But did he really want to come off as a weirdo tonight? Because that’s exactly what he would have been.

Yes, I know you. We crossed paths years ago, in that damn hospital corridor, when you were running away. You were so pale, tears streaking your cheeks, red eyes… but I swear I saw an angel that day.

Perfect way to get a restraining order, Max…

He rejoins Christian and Geri at the back of the club, where they’re lounging on a sofa surrounded by security.

Checo is there too. Max isn’t sure he likes him, but it’s Checo’s first season with Red Bull, and he has to adapt.

Max knows the team is built around him — everything is set up for him to win. Checo has struggled to find his place. Max just hopes their partnership will improve next year.

“Man of the day! No, the year!” Christian jokes, clapping Max on the back as he sits beside him.

Checo raises his glass in silent congratulations. Geri pulls out her phone, snaps a quick photo, asking everyone to smile.

No one forces it — except Max, who has to convince his facial muscles to obey and deliver a happy smile to the lens.

It’s his night, the best day of his life — and yet he’s waiting for the sun to rise, for a new day to begin.

Kelly soon joins the group, nestling against him and kissing his cheek. He takes her hand unconsciously and squeezes it tight. Despite everything, he’s glad she’s here.

The night drags on until he deems it reasonable to leave. He thanks everyone again, then, distracted, searches the crowd for the caramel-eyed girl with the brown curls who haunts him. Disappointed not to see her. Maybe lost somewhere in the club, or maybe she got what she wanted and left.

A bittersweet feeling washes over him — another regret added to his list, and oddly, it only concerns her.

But today, he has a name.

And he knows better than anyone how unpredictable life can be.

Maybe their paths will cross again.

And maybe this time, he’ll discover more than just her name.

ooOoo

As soon as she steps through the door, Kat kicks off her heels without a backward glance.

Her dress soon joins the pile on the floor before she digs out an old white t-shirt from the bottom of her suitcase. As usual, she takes a deep breath, burying her nose in the fabric, searching for a trace of Matt’s scent.

But it’s long gone.

She knows it, all while absentmindedly playing with her engagement ring. Yet it doesn’t stop her. She feels pathetic. She is pathetic. Who in their right mind still wears the clothes of their dead fiancé, ring on finger and all?

But she’s unable to move forward.

She’s tried. She can’t. Thinking about another man, daring to flirt with someone other than Matt, feels wrong. Like a betrayal.

She knows he’d want her to be happy, free from him. But the cage is soft, so comfortable. She no longer knows where the key is. She’s not even sure she wants to find it. So she lives in a perpetual in-between. Between a heavy past and a future full of promise. One foot in the past, the other in the future, but never really in the present. She’s there, front-row spectator of her own life — but she’s not living it.

She can’t.

If she did, she’s sure she’d collapse. All the feelings she’s bottled up for years would flood out, drowning her. It’s scary, unhealthy — but she’s grown used to it.

It’s not fair, but it’s easy.

She opens her laptop and transfers the photos from the evening. It’s too late to work, but she won’t sleep anyway, and she always works better at night. She scrolls through the shots and laughs to herself.

Many feature this guy, Max.

It’s almost funny. But the expressions on his face reflect almost exactly how she felt that night.

Like her, he doesn’t look like he wants to be there.

Like her, he hides in plain sight.

Like her, he seems alone in the crowd.

Maybe that’s why she thought she’d seen him somewhere before. Because he’s her mirror.

She shakes her head to clear the bad thoughts. Overall, the photos are good. Just a few tweaks needed — mostly lighting — but she’s confident she can send them to the media team tomorrow.

The next morning, she spends the whole morning adjusting light and contrast until every image is perfect. And when she sends them off, the reply is quick. The team is happy with her work and asks if she can keep her contact info for next time.

She hesitates.

It’s not her favorite kind of job, but after all, it’s just her number and email — nothing more. It costs nothing, and she always needs to expand her network. It’s a good opportunity she can’t refuse. And who knows? Maybe she’ll never be called back.

A part of her thinks about Max… He intrigues her. She doesn’t want to admit it, but the idea of seeing him again excites her. He’s like a puzzle, a riddle to solve, and Kat’s always been good at guessing, cracking mysteries.

Max is the most interesting puzzle to come her way in a long time.

ooOoo

Author's note : Hey there! Thanks so much for reading this chapter — I hope you felt the tension and the sparks between Max and Kat as much as I did while writing it. They’re both carrying so much with them, aren’t they? I’d love to hear what you think about these two mysterious souls crossing paths. See you in the next chapter!

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience.

taglist : @teamnovalak @kevynnashley @slutforpopculture @mynameisangeloflife @avocadomuncher15

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Lewis — head down, sitting on the concrete. He takes a step toward the Brit. Why? He’s not sure. He didn’t want to win like this. He knows Lewis feels robbed — and he has every reason to.

Truth is, Max feels robbed too.

It’s his first title, but he knows plenty of people will say he doesn’t deserve it. Doesn’t matter how many battles he fought this season, how many races he won. What people will remember is this race — this moment — and that final lap behind the safety car.

A controversial end to one of the closest championships in years.

Just as he starts to move toward the seven-time world champion, one of his mechanics pulls him aside, yelling something he doesn’t even hear. And when he turns back, Lewis is gone.

He exhales slowly. He wants to win. He wants to break records. But not like this. Not at any cost.

He wants to win clean.

He also knows what’s coming — the scrutiny, the pressure, the doubts. Because now he’ll have to prove himself ten times over, more than if he’d won fair and square. He doesn’t want to feel like a fraud. That’s his greatest fear. So he’ll work harder than anyone else. 

He has to.

The interviews and press conferences blur together. Lewis doesn’t hold back. And it stings.

Max tries to meet his gaze, chooses his words carefully, tries not to come off as harsh or arrogant. But he knows he’s not good at sugarcoating things. He doesn’t dance around the truth. He hates corporate PR talk.

It’s his greatest strength — and his biggest flaw. A nightmare for Red Bulls’s PR team. But he doesn’t care. That’s not his job.

Sometimes he doubts himself. Before an interview, he tells himself to be calm, polite, to think before he speaks. Then a journalist says something idiotic or wrong, and all his good intentions go straight out the window.

When he slams the door to his locker room, he’s nearly knocked over by a whirlwind of dark hair and a pair of icy blue eyes locked onto his.

Kelly Piquet, his girlfriend. She’s here. No doubt came looking for him.

He pauses to take her in. She’s been there all season — listening, supporting, caring, loving him.

She grounds him. Makes things feel simpler.

He’s been calmer, less impulsive since she walked into his life. She has a daughter — Penelope. The sweetest little kid Max’s ever met. He loves spending time with her.

But as he stares into Kelly’s eyes, he wonders if his reflect the same love he sees in hers.

He likes her. He enjoys being with her and Penelope. He appreciates her support.

But when he looks at her, there are no butterflies. And that’s fine by him.

He made peace with the idea a long time ago — love wasn’t part of the plan.

His father always said he couldn’t afford to let something as superficial as love get in the way of success.

He’d worked too hard for this.

All he needed was someone pretty who fit the image. His father had been thrilled when he learned Kelly had a kid. A picture-perfect family to sell.

That’s what they were.

And if it didn’t make Max truly happy, at least it made for good press. And good press meant peace — which he craved more than anything.

"I’m so, so proud of you! You were incredible! That final lap..."

"This Grand Prix was a circus."

"Still… you won."

He shrugs. He doesn’t want to argue. All he wants is sleep. But he can’t — there’s a party he’s expected to show up to.

Just thinking about it gives him a headache.

Kelly, of course, is already ready to go. That’s what he likes about her — how easily she fits into this world, how she gets it without him having to explain. It makes things easier.

“I can’t wait to go home.”

“Penelope’s going to be so happy to see you.”

“I missed her,” Max admits.

“She needed you too.”

He takes a deep breath, then smiles.

“Just one more night, and then we’re out of here.”

“Aren’t you the least bit excited?” she asks.

“I’m exhausted. That was the most stressful race of my life. I haven’t even processed it yet. It still feels… unreal.”

“I’m sure a good glass of champagne and a decent DJ will fix that,” she says, brushing his cheek. He leans into her touch.

ooOoo ooOoo ooOoo

It’s hot in Abu Dhabi. She’s been sweating buckets since sunrise. All her dreams — a hot bath and a good book — vanished the moment she got a call late in the afternoon.

Portia, her friend, was asking for a favor. Photographing an event... definitely not her thing. Kat is a freelance photographer, a globe-trotter. She travels all over the world, hired by magazines and agencies to capture breathtaking landscapes and iconic travel shots. She’s rarely home — she can count on one hand the number of nights spent in her own bed.

But she loves this life. Quiet, unpredictable. Her escape.

When she’s holding her camera, her mind goes still. It’s been like that for three years — ever since she ran out of that damn hospital room and never looked back.

Her steps brought her here, to Abu Dhabi, for a short trip. She was supposed to photograph the city and fly back to Belgium. She was meant to leave tonight.

But Portia managed to twist her arm.

The photographer originally booked for the evening had a family emergency. Finding someone reliable at the last minute hadn’t been easy.

“I need the best of the best, Kat. And you are the best of the best.” “I don’t shoot events! I shoot nature, not people!” “Same thing! Except the people move more than leaves. Come on, it’s a big contract.”

Kat inhales, exhales, pinches the bridge of her nose. She already knows she’s going to say yes. Portia has a lot on her plate — she can’t let her down.

“Let’s say I agree — and that’s a stretch — can you at least tell me more about the job?”

She can practically hear the smug grin forming on her friend’s lips.

“It’s at a private club. A Formula One team rented it out — they just won the championship and want photos of the party, just for memory’s sake. Nothing huge, but they’re paying the agency a serious amount, so I can’t afford to screw it up.”

Kat sighs. Athletes are the worst to deal with — too loud, too cocky, too entitled. Money makes them think they can get away with anything.

“So… can I count on you?” Portia asks, and Kat hears the pleading in her voice. She pictures her friend giving her puppy eyes through the phone.

“You owe me big time,” Kat finally says, and the squeal of joy on the other end makes her jump.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got you. You’re saving my life! I’ll let the PR team know and send you the details once I have them.”

That’s how Kat ends up, later that evening, standing outside one of the most exclusive clubs in Abu Dhabi.

Her gear hangs around her neck as she struggles to show the email to the bouncer, who gives her a slow once-over filled with disdain. Sure, her outfit isn’t expensive, but it’s comfortable — and that’s all that matters.

She gives him a polite smile as he finally lets her through.

The music is loud — way too loud for her taste — and the place is packed with sweaty, overheated bodies dancing under flashing lights. Someone leads her to the VIP section.

There, she meets Elen, her point of contact from Portia’s team, who gives her a clear rundown of what’s expected. Once the briefing’s done, she’s left alone, giving her a moment to adjust her settings.

Satisfied, Kat takes a breath and scans the crowd.

People are chatting, laughing, drinking. She snaps a few shots — partly to test the light, partly because these moments feel genuinely candid.

It’s through the lens that she sees him. A blond guy. Strangely familiar, though she can’t place where she’s seen him before. He’s alone, watching the party from an elevated corner near the DJ. He looks... regal. There’s a power and pride in the way he carries himself. He stands out.

But there’s something else. Something she knows all too well.

He’s wearing a mask — not a literal one, but something invisible. She recognizes it immediately. She wears the same one in public. A mask of false confidence. Fake it till it feels real.

Without realizing, she’s drawn to him — just as a woman steps into the frame and kisses him. He spins the woman around so her back faces Kat’s camera. She has just enough time to take a shot before something else pulls her attention away.

She spends the next hour circling the space, snapping pictures, until her feet start to ache and she needs a break. In a quiet corner, she scrolls through her camera roll — until she lands on the photos of the blond man.

They’re good. Really good. Just a few light adjustments needed.

But then she sees it. Subtle, but definitely there. The way he’s looking straight into the lens — like he’s stripped bare. Like he saw her. Really saw her.

She shakes her head. Can’t be. Just a coincidence. An illusion. Nothing more.

But when she looks up... he’s right there. Standing in front of her.

----------

Author's note : And with that, the first chapter is out! From now on, I'll be updating this story every Sunday. I can't wait for you to know more about Kat and Max.

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience.

taglist : @teamnovalak @kevynnashley @slutforpopculture

And just when she thought life couldn’t get any sweeter, he was torn away. Just like that, suddenly.

She feels a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently.

“Katherine… you need to let him go… it’s been months…”

She doesn’t know what to say. Her breath catches in her throat, tears threatening to fall. She refuses to believe it. He’s all she’s ever known. High school love. Her best friend. Her everything.

“I… I don’t want to…” she whispers, her voice breaking.

“I know… he’s my son, too. I never thought I’d have to make a choice like this,” his mother fights the emotion tightening her voice. “He’s so young.”

“We had our whole lives ahead of us.”

“You still do. You’re only twenty, Katherine…”

“But what’s the point of a life without him? It’s worthless.”

“He wouldn’t want you to think that.”

“My fiancé is going to die tonight.”

It’s the first time Kat says those words aloud. A strange mix of relief and guilt floods her. Relief because she’s finally facing the truth. Guilt because she feels like she’s betraying him.

“Till death do us part,” they say. She never imagined death would come so soon.

Suddenly, the white walls of the room feel too tight, the air too thin. She needs to get out. To escape. To be anywhere but here.

“Sorry…” she whispers, as her legs carry her out of the room.

Tears blur her vision, but she doesn’t care. She needs air. She pays no attention to her steps and bumps into a solid chest, staggering from the impact. Two hands catch her, steady her. She looks up and sees a blond man, probably her age.

“You okay?” he asks, out of simple politeness.

“Sorry…” she repeats, as if it’s the only sentence she’s managed to say lately. Then she walks away, leaving the boy frozen, struck as if by lightning.

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Author's note : Hello dear readers, it's been a while but I'm back with this story I'mvery excited to share. It's only the prologue but I'm delighted to say that you will be able to discover the first real chapter just after tomorrow's race. I hope you will love Max and Kat's story as much as I do and without giving away anything it's gonna be an emotional ride.

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience.

taglist : @teamnovalak

Kat lifted her head slowly, surprised. Max's tone wasn’t mocking—it was clean and sharp, like a blade meant to return the hit she’d just landed. Not meant to hurt, necessarily. Just impossible to hold back.

“You talk like you see right through people, but the way you hold your camera—it’s like a shield. Like it’s the only thing keeping the world at arm’s length. Like you’re scared someone might actually look back.”

She stilled for a moment. Barely a beat. Then came a smile—small, practiced. One that didn’t reach her eyes.

Silence settled again, dense with all the things neither of them said. It was warm inside the reception hall, but a door creaked open somewhere, letting in a draft that slipped through the quiet. Kat shivered without meaning to. Max noticed the goosebumps on her bare arms, but didn’t move. Didn’t say a word.

He wanted to. He could feel the words rising, catching in the back of his throat. But nothing came out. He was afraid of saying too much. Or not enough. So he fell back on arrogance—his old, reliable armor.

“Shame to see all that talent wasted on parties like this.”

Kat let out a dry laugh, short and unamused.

“Shame to see all that potential wasted playing the emotionally unavailable asshole.”

Max raised an eyebrow. He should be pissed. He should throw something back. But instead, he laughed—quick and involuntary, like she’d caught him off guard.

“Touché.”

Kat gave a slight nod, mock-serious.

“Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. I’m a photographer, not a journalist.”

He shook his head, unsure if she was getting under his skin or under his defenses. Probably both. He cleared his throat. He could feel Kat’s gaze on him—steady, unflinching. The kind of gaze that made him too aware of himself, of where he was standing, of how little he was hiding.

Finally, he broke the silence.

“You should get back to work.”

“I am,” she said simply, nodding toward her camera.

And with that, she walked away—without a trace of hesitation or apology. Max watched her go, the fabric of her dress gliding around her legs like quiet waves. She didn’t look back.

She didn’t have to.

He knew she knew.

And it pissed him off.

And it fascinated him.

And it scared the hell out of him.

Because around her, he wasn’t in control.

Not even of himself.

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Author's note : As I was editing some things through the draft of this story, I told myself that it would be a nice idea to give you a little snippet of what you can expect. Let me know if you liked it 👀

Summary :

A champion in the spotlight, a man hidden behind his own walls — Max Verstappen is more than just an impressive list of victories. And Katherine? She’s not chasing fame. She’s after what people try to bury. She doesn’t have time for cocky drivers or ego games. She’s loved. She’s lost. She’s learned how to stand on her own, camera in hand and memories etched deep under her skin. This job was never meant to be more than a quick fix. A detour. Nothing else.

But when glances linger, when silence speaks louder than words, and the cracks start to show — something unexpected slips in. A spark. A tension. A fault line.

Between a sleepless night, a ghost from the past, and a moment that should’ve meant nothing, they’ll each have to choose: run from it, or face what stirs when the masks come off.

“It has been an honor to race with Lamborghini and be part of this family for so many years,” said Dawson. “Together, we’ve achieved remarkable success, and I am incredibly proud of everything we’ve accomplished. However, after much thought and reflection, I have decided it’s time for a new chapter in my career. I will forever cherish the memories and the victories we’ve shared, but it’s time to move on and continue growing both as a driver and as a person.”

Kyle Dawson’s departure marks the end of a remarkable era for Lamborghini Racing, which saw Dawson claim three World Championship titles and contribute to the team’s impressive record on the track.

Lamborghini Racing also confirmed that Ethan Verstappen, the rising star and fan-favorite driver, will be joining the team for the upcoming season. Verstappen, known for his consistent performance and his close rivalry with Dawson over the years, will be pairing with Ludwig Martinelli as his new teammate for the next campaign.

“We are thrilled to welcome Ethan Verstappen to Lamborghini Racing,” said Christian Horner, Team Principal of Lamborghini Racing. “Ethan’s talent, commitment, and competitive spirit will be a valuable addition to our team as we look to build on our legacy. We’re excited for what the future holds with him and Ludwig working together as teammates.”

The announcement also marks the beginning of a new era for Lamborghini Racing as they continue to pursue excellence on the racetrack.

“We wish Kyle all the best in his future endeavors,” Horner added. “He will always be a part of the Lamborghini Racing family, and we are excited to see what the future holds for him. As for Ethan, we’re eager to see the amazing things he will accomplish with us.”

The next racing season will undoubtedly bring new challenges, but Lamborghini Racing remains committed to striving for excellence, innovation, and performance, as always.

Audi Racing Welcomes Kyle Dawson for the Next Racing Season

Ingolstadt, Germany – Audi Racing is excited to announce the signing of three-time World Champion Kyle Dawson, who will be joining the team for the next racing season. Dawson will race alongside Audi’s star driver, Romy Schumacher, in what promises to be an exceptional partnership and a thrilling new chapter for the team.

“We are thrilled to welcome Kyle Dawson to Audi Racing,” said Sebastien Vettel, Team Principal of Audi Racing. “Kyle is a world-class driver with a wealth of experience, and we believe his expertise will be instrumental in pushing Audi Racing to new heights. Alongside Romy, we expect them to form a formidable duo and take the team to the top of the championship standings.”

Dawson’s decision to join Audi comes after a period of introspection and his desire to take on a new challenge after a highly successful career with Lamborghini. Known for his exceptional skill and determination, Dawson is looking forward to contributing to Audi's success. His arrival marks a key milestone for Audi Racing as the team builds its future with a strong and talented lineup.

“I’m incredibly excited to join Audi Racing and to be teaming up with Romy Schumacher,” said Dawson. “Audi’s commitment to excellence and innovation is something I’ve always admired, and I can’t wait to get started. I’ve spent years chasing titles with Lamborghini, but now, I’m ready for a new challenge and a fresh start with Audi.”

Romy Schumacher, Audi’s cornerstone driver, will continue to lead the team. Her proven skill and resilience on the track, paired with Dawson’s experience, will give Audi Racing a competitive edge as the team looks ahead to the next season.

“I’m absolutely thrilled to have Kyle as my teammate,” said Schumacher. “He’s been one of the top drivers in the sport for years, and I’m looking forward to working alongside him. Together, I believe we can accomplish amazing things for Audi Racing and take the team to the next level.”

Audi Racing is excited for the next season and looks forward to the dynamic partnership between Kyle Dawson and Romy Schumacher as they aim to dominate the track and bring success to the team.

Author's note: Okay, well, first of all, I kind of totally forgot that I still had the epilogue to post. I have no excuse besides the fact that life has been tough lately for a lot of reasons and KOMH hasn't been on top of my priority list.

Now, I hope you like this epilogue, and I also hope you liked discovering Romy and Kyle's story. I'm not going to lie, I still have a part two planned for this story, which is supposed to explore what Romy and Kyle's relationship now that they are teammates. I don't know if it will be released here or even if it will be released at all. I suppose it all depends on you. So let me now.

But even in the midst of the race, there were flashes of doubt—moments when he could have sworn the world around him was slipping. He couldn’t let that happen. Not here. Not now. Not in the race that could secure him his third World Championship. He could feel the team’s expectations on his shoulders. The tension in the air as the other drivers pushed harder. The cheers of the crowd, the thrill of the competition. It all felt so distant.

Lamborghini. His team. The future. It all felt so… fragile.

With one final burst of speed, Kyle crossed the finish line, his car roaring to victory as the checkered flag waved in front of him. The crowd erupted into cheers, the roar of the crowd like thunder in his ears. It should have been everything. The culmination of years of blood, sweat, and sacrifice. The moment he’d been dreaming of since he was a kid. And yet, as the car slowed and the team surrounded him, lifting him up in celebration, Kyle felt his chest tighten. The elation, the excitement—it was all there, but it felt hollow. Empty.

He had done it. Third World Champion.

But all he could think of was the constant ache in his eyes. The weight of the title felt less like a triumph and more like a fleeting moment that he couldn’t hold on to. His heart should have been racing with joy, but instead, there was only a lingering dread.

Ludwig clapped him on the back, laughing as the champagne sprayed in the air. “We did it, man! Third time’s a charm!”

Kyle forced a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, third time,” he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Ludwig, ever the optimist, didn’t notice the strain in Kyle’s tone. “I know you’ve had your doubts, but you’ve proven everyone wrong. You’re the best.”

But Kyle couldn’t shake the feeling that the victory was tainted. It wasn’t just the strain in his body, the tiredness in his limbs. It was deeper. His hands were shaking as he held the trophy. The world around him spun in a blur, and he couldn’t help but think: For how long? For how much longer could he keep doing this?

He smiled for the cameras, gave his thank-yous, but his mind was elsewhere. It was a lie. He had won, yes, but the victory was nothing more than a hollow achievement, a moment that felt like it could slip through his fingers at any time.

As he stood there, surrounded by the adoration of his team, the press, and the fans, he couldn’t stop thinking about the future—what came after this? When the fame and the lights dimmed, when he could no longer race at the top of his game, where would he be? What would he be left with?

A hand clapped him on the shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts. He turned, finding Ludwig grinning at him, eyes sparkling. “Let’s take it in, man,” he said. “You’re the World Champion. For the third time. Enjoy it.”

Kyle nodded, but it felt like his heart wasn’t fully in it. He gave a weak smile and looked at the trophy again, the weight of it feeling more like a chain than a symbol of victory.

The next race would be the final one, the last of the season. Kyle had one more chance to prove himself, to leave everything on the track. But for all his focus, all his dedication, all his fight—it all felt overshadowed by one thing: the looming uncertainty about his future.

He had won. Yes. But at what cost?

The celebration had faded into the background as the evening wore on. The champagne-soaked atmosphere of the paddock had dimmed, the cheers of victory now distant echoes. Kyle made his way through the crowd, his steps heavy despite the win that should have been filling him with elation. The trophy felt cold in his hands now, a symbol of something that no longer brought him the joy it once did.

He found Christian in a quiet corner of the garage, a man who had been with him through the highs and lows of his career. The team principal had always been more than just a boss to Kyle. Christian had been a mentor, a friend, even a father figure at times. Their relationship had always been built on mutual respect, and Kyle knew this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation.

Christian was standing by the window, looking out at the lights of the city, his back to Kyle as he took a long swig of water from a bottle. Kyle hesitated for a moment before walking over. Christian didn’t turn around right away, but he must have sensed his presence.

"You did it, Kyle," Christian said, his voice low but proud, even without looking. "Third world title. You earned this one. Deserved every bit of it."

Kyle stood there for a moment, the weight of his decision pressing down on him. He wanted to celebrate. He should have been celebrating. But the words he was about to speak would mark the end of an era for him, and it was hard to shake that feeling of finality.

Finally, he spoke, his voice thick with emotion. "Christian... I’m leaving."

Christian turned slowly, his eyebrows furrowing slightly, though he didn’t look surprised. His eyes were tired, but they held a depth of understanding, as if he had known this moment was coming. He set his water bottle down on the counter and folded his arms, his gaze steady but gentle.

“You’re serious, then,” Christian said, his tone not questioning but more of a quiet confirmation.

Kyle nodded, his grip tightening around the trophy. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. This race... it’s the last one for me with Lamborghini.”

Christian exhaled slowly, his expression softening. There was no anger, no disappointment, just acceptance. “I won’t lie, Kyle. I didn’t expect this, not after everything we’ve been through. But I understand. I’ve seen how hard this season has been on you. More than just the racing.”

Kyle felt a lump form in his throat, the words harder to get out than he thought. "I’ve been fighting with myself for months now. I’m not the same driver I used to be. I can’t... I can’t keep racing under this pressure. I want to remember racing as something that’s just fun. When it wasn’t about titles, when it was about the love for the sport. It’s hard to feel that anymore when every race feels like I’m running out of time. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep up with the constant grind."

Christian nodded, his gaze never leaving Kyle’s face. "I know. And it’s been hard to watch. I know what’s been going on with your eyes. The migraines. The strain. But Kyle..." Christian’s voice softened, a rare vulnerability creeping in. "You’re more than just a driver. You’re family to this team. You’ve given everything to Lamborghini, and it’s given you everything back. I respect whatever decision you make, but I hope you know you’re always welcome here, no matter what happens next."

Kyle’s chest tightened, and the words were almost a whisper. "I don’t want to leave. But I have to. I can’t keep pretending like I’m in control when I’m not. I need something different. A new challenge."

Christian took a moment, his eyes scanning Kyle's face, as if searching for something. He exhaled slowly. "Well, I won’t stop you. You’ve earned the right to make this choice. But I will say this—you’ve always been one of the greatest I’ve had the pleasure of working with. No matter what happens, you’ll always be part of the Lamborghini family."

Kyle’s eyes softened, the weight of the conversation pressing on him, but there was a relief in hearing those words. It wasn’t an end he had expected, but a mutual understanding. A respect that transcended titles and trophies.

"Thank you, Christian. That means more than you know."

Christian nodded, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Just remember, Kyle, you don’t have to do this alone. Whatever comes next, you’ve got a team behind you. And that’s not something that changes with the color of the car you drive."

Kyle stood there, feeling a quiet sense of closure. The decision was made, and for the first time in a long while, he felt like he was on the right path, even if he didn’t know where it led yet.

After a beat, Christian slapped him lightly on the back. "Now, go celebrate, World Champion. You’ve earned it."

Kyle gave a small, genuine smile before walking out of the room. But this time, it wasn’t a smile full of forced joy. It was one of quiet resolve. The future was still uncertain, but for the first time in a long while, he felt like he had control over it.

After the adrenaline of the Vegas race had faded, the sound of champagne bottles popping and cheers from the paddock had died down, Kyle found himself in a quieter corner of the track, taking a moment to breathe. The weight of the victory felt heavy in his chest, but it wasn’t the joy he had imagined. It was exhaustion—mentally, physically, emotionally.

As he leaned against a cool wall, his mind spinning, a familiar figure approached. Seb, the Audi Team Principal, walked over with a calm smile, but Kyle could see the question in his eyes, the anticipation for this conversation.

"You did it again," Seb said with a nod, his voice tinged with admiration. "World Champion, three times. That’s no small feat."

Kyle forced a grin, the fatigue still pulling at his features. "Yeah, but this one doesn’t feel the same."

Seb raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. Instead, he moved closer. "I’ve been thinking," Seb began, leaning in just enough to convey the seriousness of what he was about to say. "I want you with Audi next season. We’ve got big plans, and you’re the missing piece."

Kyle felt the weight of the offer settle around him. Audi. The team that had been growing, developing their own power in the sport. Romy’s team. The prospect was alluring, but Kyle hesitated, not out of lack of interest, but because of the constant pressure that had been part of every deal he’d ever made since he was a teenager.

"I… I don’t know," Kyle muttered, shaking his head. "I don’t want to keep racing for the titles anymore. I’ve done it all. I’m not sure I can keep doing it, Seb. Not the way it’s been."

Seb studied him, his face a mixture of curiosity and understanding. "You’re saying you don’t want to race for the same things anymore? For the trophies? For the championship?"

Kyle’s gaze drifted toward the paddock, where the celebrations were still going on, people cheering, and the photographers snapping photos of every victory. It all felt so hollow now. The pressure to always be the best, to always outperform, to never stop. It was wearing him down.

"No," Kyle replied quietly, his voice cracking slightly. "I want to race because I love it. Not because I’m expected to win. I want to do one last year, Seb. Not with the same weight, not with the same expectations. I want it to be fun again."

Seb gave him a moment to let the words settle. He had known Kyle for years and understood the grind, the pressure that came with being a champion. But he could also see the passion in Kyle’s eyes—the same passion that had brought him to the top in the first place. Seb wasn’t going to let that fade away if he could help it.

"I get it," Seb said softly, placing a hand on Kyle’s shoulder. "But you know, Audi could give you that. We have a good team, a different environment. And with Romy by your side, you can find that spark again. The two of you together—there’s potential there, Kyle."

Kyle looked at Seb, the thought of teaming up with Romy next season floating in his mind. It would be different. There would still be challenges, but it felt right. There would be a comfort in knowing she was there, a reassurance that, even though the racing world was intense, at least he wouldn’t be doing it alone.

But still, doubts lingered. "And if I fail?" Kyle asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Seb’s answer was quick and resolute. "You won’t fail. Not if you stop seeing this as a race for survival. Do it for the love of the sport. Do it because it’s fun again. And if you do that, the results will come. I believe in you, Kyle."

Kyle looked at Seb for a long moment. There was sincerity in his eyes, an understanding that Kyle wasn’t the same person who had joined Lamborghini years ago, fighting for a seat. He was different now. Wiser, more self-aware. And maybe, just maybe, Audi could offer him a new path—a path where racing wasn’t about being the best. It was about rediscovering the joy.

“I’ll think about it,” Kyle finally said, his words heavy with the weight of the decision. He needed time to reflect, to process everything.

Seb gave a nod, satisfied with Kyle’s answer. "Take your time. But just know—when you're ready, the seat is waiting."

The Melbourne Grand Prix was electric, but there was a quiet kind of tension in the air that only Kyle seemed to feel. It was the last race of the season. His last race with Lamborghini. The final time he’d feel the familiar hum of the white and light blue car beneath him, the last time he’d cross the line as part of this family. The weight of it was suffocating at times, but when the lights went out, all of that faded away. For the first time in months, Kyle could focus purely on the track, the way the tires gripped the asphalt, the sound of the engine singing in perfect harmony with his pulse.

This wasn’t about the world title. This wasn’t about the legacy. This race was for him—just for him. It felt like a return to why he fell in love with racing in the first place: the raw, unfiltered joy of it. For so long, everything had been about the pressure, about proving something, about always striving for more. But in Melbourne, as the race unfolded in front of him, there was a clarity he hadn’t felt in years.

He didn’t care about winning in the traditional sense. Sure, it mattered, but it was no longer the driving force behind every turn, every lap. It wasn’t the points, the podium, or the championship that made his heart race—it was the purity of the competition itself. That feeling, that rush of adrenaline, of connection to the car and the track, was what had kept him going all these years. And now, as the checkered flag waved and the roar of the engine finally quieted, he realized that he had rediscovered it.

Kyle crossed the finish line, the win still sinking in. His hands were shaking as he gripped the steering wheel, a mix of relief and bittersweet nostalgia flooding him. The victory felt hollow in some ways, but incredibly freeing in others.

As he stepped out of the car, the world seemed to slow down. He waved at the crowd, his chest tight with emotion, but his gaze quickly sought out the people who meant the most to him. He caught sight of Ludwig and Ethan, both of them already making their way to the podium, but it was Romy he found first. She was standing just outside the paddock, her eyes locked on him. The smile she gave him wasn’t one of triumph; it was a smile that held understanding, that said everything without saying a word.

The podium ceremony was a blur—cameras flashing, champagne spraying, and the sound of victory echoing in his ears. But none of it felt like it did before. None of it was the same. He looked to Ludwig, who was beside him, his usual grin tempered by something softer, more reflective.

“Last one with Lambo, huh?” Ludwig said quietly, almost as if testing the words on his tongue. “It’s hard to imagine the team without you in the car. But you’ve earned the right to go out on your terms.”

Kyle nodded, his throat thick, his eyes tracing Ludwig’s face as he realized how much they’d all been through together. The wins, the losses, the moments of frustration, the moments of triumph. They’d been a team. And that was something that couldn’t be replaced. But it wasn’t just the team he’d miss. It was the connection to the sport, the way it felt like home, the way it felt like everything had clicked the first time he raced for Lamborghini.

Ethan, standing next to them, gave Kyle a quiet but knowing look. There was no need for words; the years of friendship, of racing side by side, were all contained in that single look. The pressure of the race season had been brutal, but this moment felt different. It was the kind of camaraderie that couldn’t be replicated.

“Whatever comes next, we’ve got your back,” Ethan said, his voice low but full of meaning. “Always have, always will.”

Kyle’s chest tightened, a lump forming in his throat. He glanced at Ethan, then back at Ludwig, and finally at Romy, who was watching from the sidelines. He realized, in that instant, that this was more than just the end of a season. It was the end of a chapter of his life—a chapter full of ambition and fear and fighting for something bigger than himself. But now, he was stepping into a new world, one that would be defined not by titles or expectations but by what he truly wanted.

And what he wanted, above all else, was to find joy in the thing he loved most.

As the final spray of champagne fell over him, Kyle’s mind wasn’t on the celebration. It wasn’t on the world title or the future. It was on the people who had been with him every step of the way—on Ludwig, on Ethan, on Romy. On the moments they’d shared, and the journey that still lay ahead.

He wasn’t sure what the future held, but for the first time in a long while, he felt at peace with that uncertainty.

After the race, Kyle found a quiet corner in the paddock, away from the noise of the celebration and the cheers that echoed in his ears. His world title was secure, and the joy of victory still lingered, but there was something else gnawing at him, something that needed to be said.

Romy was sitting nearby, talking to a few team members, but she looked up as soon as Kyle approached. Her expression softened, a smile curving on her lips when she saw him. But there was something different in his eyes—something she couldn’t quite place.

He stood in front of her, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, a nervous energy crackling between them. There was no grand speech, no build-up. Just the weight of the moment hanging in the air.

“I’ve signed with Audi for next season,” Kyle said quietly, his voice low, almost uncertain.

Romy’s face froze. Her smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of confusion as she tried to process his words. "Audi?" she echoed, not fully understanding what he meant. "Wait—what? Kyle... you’re leaving Lamborghini?"

He nodded, the look on his face unyielding despite the storm inside him. “Yeah. I’m leaving. I’ll be racing with Audi next year... alongside you.”

The words hung between them like a sudden storm. Romy blinked, her mind scrambling to catch up. This wasn’t what she expected—not in the slightest. She knew Audi had made their move, but hearing Kyle say it out loud, seeing the determination in his eyes—it felt like everything was shifting beneath her feet.

“I didn’t... I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” Romy murmured, her voice a mixture of shock and disbelief. “I thought you’d stay. With Lamborghini. I thought this—this was your team, Kyle.”

Kyle took a step closer, trying to steady his own racing heart. “It was. It is. But... I don’t know. I can’t keep doing this. I want to race, Romy, but I want to do it differently. I want to enjoy it again. I want to remember why I fell in love with this in the first place.”

Her eyes searched his face, the disbelief still clouding her mind. “But Kyle... Audi? With me?” She stepped back slightly, uncertainty flooding her chest. “You’re going to be racing with me... We’ve never been teammates, you know? And we’ve always... we’ve always been competing.”

He nodded slowly, understanding her concerns. He could see the fear in her eyes, the worry starting to build. “I know it changes things. But I think it’s the only way. I want us to be in this together. No more pressure, no more fear of losing everything. I don’t want to race with that weight on my shoulders anymore. I want to race with you, not against you.”

Romy’s mind was spinning. Her pulse raced in her ears as she tried to make sense of it all. She hadn’t seen this coming—not in a million years. Kyle, leaving Lamborghini? Racing for another team? And with her?

Fear twisted in her stomach as she struggled to form words. “But… but what if it changes everything between us? What if... What if it’s too much? You’re my teammate, Kyle. We’ll be sharing everything—the track, the decisions, the strategy. It’s not just a race anymore. It’s everything.”

Her voice wavered with vulnerability, the fear of what this could mean for them, for their relationship, creeping in. She had always known that racing was something they’d have to navigate, but now? Now it was right in front of them, unavoidably real.

Kyle saw the worry in her eyes and softened, stepping closer. “Romy, I know it’s scary. I get it. But I don’t want to lose us. And this… this isn’t about pressure anymore. It’s not about competition, not in the way we’re used to. I want to enjoy it again. I want to be with you, not just in the paddock but in the way we both deserve. I want to be with you in a way that we never have been before.”

There was a pause, long and heavy. Romy could feel her heart racing, but as Kyle’s words sank in, a new feeling began to stir in her chest. She wasn’t sure what the future held, wasn’t sure how this would change things for them, but there was something undeniably exciting in the idea of being on the same team.

Her gaze softened, and a hesitant smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” Her voice cracked slightly, a laugh mixed with disbelief escaping her. “You want this? With me?”

Kyle reached out, taking her hand gently in his, the weight of their connection undeniable now. “Yeah. I’m serious. I want to do this with you. Together.”

Romy exhaled shakily, her emotions a whirlwind as she looked into his eyes. There was a warmth there, a softness that she hadn’t seen in him for a long time. And for the first time that night, the fear started to ebb away, replaced by something else—something she hadn’t expected but now felt deep in her chest.

“I never thought we’d get here,” she whispered, a smile finally breaking through the tension. “I never thought we’d be teammates.”

Kyle squeezed her hand. “I guess that’s why it feels so right.”

They stood there in the quiet of the garage, the noise of the victory celebrations far away, just the two of them, navigating the moment together. It wasn’t perfect, and there were still so many unknowns ahead, but for the first time in a long time, Kyle felt like he was heading in the right direction. And Romy? She felt the same.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The noise of the paddock, the hum of the crowd, felt miles away. It was just the two of them in their own quiet world—one that had been built on chaos, love, hurt, and everything in between. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy, filled with all the things they hadn’t said yet.

Finally, Romy spoke, her voice low, almost unsure. “Kyle…”

His heart lurched at the sound of her voice, a quiet tremor that caught him off guard. He turned to face her, and for the first time in a while, he saw her—not the racer, not the teammate, but her. Vulnerable. Exposed.

“What is it?” His voice cracked just a little, betraying the knot of tension in his chest. He was trying to keep it together, but every part of him knew something was coming.

She took a deep breath, her hands twisting together in front of her, her eyes not quite meeting his. “I’ve been thinking. A lot. About us, about everything we’ve been through. The mess, the races, the wins, the losses, the times we’ve hurt each other… but also the times we’ve kept fighting for this, for us.” Her voice faltered for a second before she pressed on. “I don’t want us to keep... just racing through life, Kyle. I don’t want us to keep pretending that we’re okay with being in this limbo. It’s not enough anymore.”

Kyle’s stomach dropped, something about her tone hitting him deeper than he expected. It wasn’t just about the races—it was about everything. He felt the weight of it. Every emotion, every ounce of doubt, every unsaid word between them.

“Romy…” He swallowed, his voice faltering. “What are you trying to say?”

Her gaze lifted to meet his, steady now, but there was something in her eyes that made his pulse quicken. Something raw, something real.

“I want more, Kyle. I don’t want to live in the in-between anymore. I want us to stop running from this. To stop pretending it’s all just temporary.” Her voice cracked slightly on the last word, and her hand reached out to touch his arm, grounding herself. “I want you to move in with me.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Move in with her? He hadn’t been prepared for this—he hadn’t even thought about what that meant, not in any serious way. Sure, they’d talked about the future in passing, but this was different. This was real.

Kyle stepped back slightly, trying to make sense of what she had just said. The rush of emotions overwhelmed him. He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or to cry, but everything in him was suddenly on edge.

“Wait… what?” His voice came out rough, his heart pounding against his ribcage. “You want me to move in with you? Now?”

Romy gave a small, nervous laugh, but it was shaky—she could see the disbelief on his face. “Yeah, now.” She squeezed his hand tighter. “I know we’ve always been caught up in the whirlwind, but after all of it, after all the stuff we’ve gone through, I don’t want to be just in the background of your life anymore. I want to be in the front. I want to build something with you. A real life. Not just a race.”

Kyle’s throat tightened, his thoughts running wild. This wasn’t a race. This wasn’t a moment he could just push through with adrenaline. This was something else, something far more intimate, more significant. And yet, his first instinct was fear—fear of what it would mean, fear of messing it up, fear of the unknown.

But as the words settled, Kyle realized something. He had always known he wanted this. He had always imagined a future with her. She was the one, the only one, who made him feel like he could take on the world and still find peace in the quiet moments. He had always seen her in his life—he just hadn’t expected her to take this step first. But here she was, asking him for something more than just a fleeting connection.

“I…” He trailed off, his heart pounding, his emotions tangled. “I never thought I’d hear you say that. I’ve always known... I’ve always known I wanted a future with you. But you—” His voice broke slightly as he looked at her, the reality of what she was offering finally hitting him. “You were always the one holding back, always the one making the steps, the big decisions… but I never stopped imagining us.”

Romy’s eyes softened, her face flushed with a mix of vulnerability and hope. “I know, Kyle. I know I’ve been scared. But I don’t want to be scared anymore. I want this. With you. For real.”

He took a deep breath, his mind racing with everything they’d been through, all the highs, all the lows. His hand found hers again, his grip firm but tender. “I’m in, Romy. I’ve always been in. I just didn’t expect… I didn’t expect this moment to feel so real, so right.”

She smiled softly, her eyes welling with emotion. “I’m glad it feels right.” She squeezed his hand. “We’ve been running, we’ve been so caught up in the race, but I want us to stop and just be here. With each other. For real.”

Kyle nodded, the weight of it all suddenly lifting. Everything that had once seemed uncertain, now felt like a foundation, something they could build on together. “We’ll build it together, Romy. I’m here. I’m yours. Always.”

Romy leaned in, her lips brushing against his in a kiss that was softer than any they had shared before. It wasn’t a kiss of passion or triumph—it was a kiss of understanding. A promise of something more than racing, something far deeper, something permanent.

And in that moment, Kyle knew—they were no longer just racing toward a future. They had already begun to build it, together.

A knock at the door pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts, and he barely registered it. He was too deep in his panic. The door swung open, and there she was. Romy, standing in the hallway, her face full of concern as she took one look at him and saw everything she needed to.

"Kyle," she said softly, her voice laced with worry. "What’s wrong?"

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned, his back against the balcony, trying to steady himself. The words were trapped in his throat, and his hands shook. Romy’s eyes scanned his face, and she knew immediately. The familiar signs. The uncertainty. The tension that was all too present.

“Your eyes again…” she whispered, her voice breaking just a little.

Kyle’s hands shook violently, and he couldn’t seem to control his breathing. His face was pale, his eyes wide with terror, as he took a step toward her, his voice coming out in a strangled, frantic rush.

"Romy... please," he begged, his words tumbling out, fast and jagged, as if each one was a plea for his sanity to hold. "I can’t—I can’t keep doing this. I—I can’t see anymore, not like I used to. The migraines—they’re worse. My vision’s blurring. It’s like the world is fading away from me. You... you’re fading." His voice cracked on the last word, and he looked at her like she was slipping through his fingers.

The panic was raw in his voice, an overwhelming, suffocating fear that he couldn’t control. "I’m losing everything, Romy. I can feel it—feel it all slipping through. My career, my life, my damn eyesight. And if I lose you, too... I can’t—I can’t live with that. I can’t lose you. Please, marry me." His eyes burned with a mixture of terror and desperation, and the words left his mouth before he could stop them. "Marry me tonight. Right now. Before I lose everything. Before I can’t see you anymore. I need to know you're mine, that you’ll be with me, even if everything else falls apart."

His voice broke on the last sentence, and he almost collapsed into her, reaching out with trembling hands, as if physically trying to hold onto her before his world crumbled. “Please, Romy, please. I don’t care about anything else. I just need to know I won’t lose you too.”

His eyes were wide and pleading, desperate for her to understand the depth of his panic, the ache that was eating away at him. His body felt like it was on fire with fear, and he was clinging to her, to this idea of marriage, like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. But it wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t sweet. It was pure, unadulterated panic.

Romy froze, her breath catching in her throat. This wasn’t how she had imagined it, not how she had dreamed of the moment they would decide their future. This wasn’t love. This was fear. This was the broken, trembling version of Kyle, scared and desperate for something to hold onto, to make sure he wouldn’t fall apart completely.

She shook her head, slowly, her voice trembling as she spoke, almost in a whisper. “Kyle... no. No, I can’t.”

He stepped forward again, his eyes wide and frantic. "Romy, please, don’t—don’t leave me with nothing. Don’t leave me with nothing but this damn darkness." His words spilled out, his face crumpling, his voice full of heartbreak and despair. “I can’t... I can’t see you anymore, Romy. I can’t even see you. I—I don’t know what’s happening to me. And I’m terrified I’ll never see your face again, that I won’t get to look into your eyes... God, please, I can’t go through this alone. I need you. I need to know you’re with me. Right now. Please.”

His hands shook as they reached for hers again, but Romy instinctively pulled back, her heart breaking even more with each movement he made. The look on his face was one she never thought she’d see—the raw vulnerability, the desperation. He wasn’t Kyle, the confident racer who always knew what to do. This was a man on the edge, grasping at anything to stop himself from falling.

Romy’s chest tightened, and she swallowed hard. The words she needed to say caught in her throat, her own tears threatening to spill, but she couldn’t. Not now. Not like this.

“Kyle... I love you,” she whispered, her voice cracking, “but I can’t marry you out of fear. I can’t marry you because you’re scared. Not like this. I want to be with you. I want a future with you. But not when it’s born from panic. I won’t marry you out of fear of losing me. That’s not love, Kyle. That’s... that’s just you trying to hold onto something, anything, before it all slips away.”

Kyle’s face twisted in agony, and his hands fell to his sides as if all the strength had left him. “I don’t know what else to do, Romy,” he whispered, almost broken. “I’m falling apart. Everything’s falling apart. I can’t see... I can’t... I can’t see you, and I can’t imagine my life without you. How do I go on like this? How do I... how do I live in a world where you’re not with me?” His voice broke again, raw and pained. “Please... please don’t leave me, Romy. I can’t... I can’t lose you too.”

His words shattered her heart, and she wanted to throw herself into his arms, to tell him everything would be okay, to reassure him that they would fight this together. But she couldn’t. Not when the proposal wasn’t about love. Not when it was about fear.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, the words so small against the weight of what she was feeling. “I love you, but I can’t marry you like this. Not because you’re scared. Not because you’re afraid of what you might lose.”

She turned, the tears she had been holding back now falling freely as she walked away, her heart breaking with every step she took away from him. But she couldn’t stay. Not like this. Not in the middle of his fear. Not when it wasn’t real.

And Kyle... Kyle stood there, trembling, watching her leave, his heart breaking into pieces, knowing he had lost her, too.

He stepped back, a broken, confused look on his face, as though he couldn’t comprehend why she wasn’t saying yes. “You’re saying no?” His voice was barely above a whisper, and the weight of it crushed her. She hated seeing him like this. But this wasn’t right.

He shook his head, almost in disbelief, and she could see the hurt in his eyes, the deep cut he wasn’t sure how to heal. "But I can’t lose you. I don’t know what I’d do if I lose you."

Romy’s heart cracked as she took a step back, her chest aching. She couldn’t stay in this moment, couldn’t let this decision come from his panic. She turned and walked away, her tears threatening to spill over. “I need space, Kyle. I’m sorry.”

The moment Romy walked away, leaving him standing there in the dimly lit hallway, Kyle felt a hollow ache deep inside him. It wasn’t just the shock of her refusal. No, it was everything—the weight of all the emotions that had been suffocating him for weeks now. His vision. The migraines. The constant fear that had been eating away at him, gnawing at the edges of his mind, reminding him that he wasn’t in control anymore. That someday soon, he might not see anything at all.

He had always been strong. He had always been the one who could handle the pressure, who could push through the worst of it. But now? Now, his body was betraying him. His legs felt weak, like they might buckle under him any moment, and his chest tightened with each shaky breath he took.

God, he had just asked Romy to marry him. Not out of love. Not out of the dreams they’d shared for the future. No, he had asked her because he was terrified—terrified of losing everything, especially her. The panic had consumed him, and he had let it take over, making him do something he wasn’t ready for. And she had turned him down. She had looked at him with those sad eyes, and she had refused.

She was right. God, she was right.

His throat tightened as the tears he hadn’t been able to hold back threatened to spill over. But he couldn’t let himself cry. He couldn’t. Not here. Not now. Not in front of her.

But as his legs buckled, and the pain of his broken heart hit him with the force of a freight train, he realized he was losing control. His vision was blurry—no, worse than blurry. Everything felt like it was spinning. Like the walls were closing in on him. His hand shot out, desperately grabbing at the nearest wall to steady himself, but it felt like his body wasn’t responding. It wasn’t enough.

The world was too much.

He staggered forward, his mind a jumbled mess. He needed to find someone. Someone who could understand. Someone who wouldn’t see him as weak. Ethan. He needed to find Ethan. The only person who had been there for him when it all started to unravel, the only person who knew the real fear behind all the bravado.

Stumbling down the hallway, his vision still swimming, Kyle finally reached the door to Ethan’s room. His hand slammed against it, knocking harder than he intended, but the pressure of his own panic made him reckless. The door swung open, and Ethan appeared in the doorway, his hair messy, eyes still half-closed from sleep.

“What the hell, man?” Ethan groaned, clearly still groggy from being woken up in the middle of the night. “What’s going on?”

But Kyle didn’t know how to answer. His chest heaved as his breath came in short, jagged bursts. He couldn’t form the words, couldn’t explain the storm raging inside him. He had been in control of his career, of his image, of everything that mattered—until now. And now he felt like he was losing everything.

Ethan’s expression shifted immediately, his eyes sharpening as he took in Kyle’s pale face, the sweat beading on his forehead, the way he was swaying on his feet. Something was wrong.

“Jesus, Kyle,” Ethan muttered, his voice thick with concern. “What the hell happened?”

“I—” Kyle’s words came out strangled. He tried to steady himself, but his legs wouldn’t hold. He couldn’t see clearly anymore, couldn’t even focus on Ethan’s face in front of him.

Before Kyle could stop himself, his legs gave way entirely, and he crumpled to the floor. Ethan rushed forward, catching him before he hit the ground.

“Hey! Hey, you alright?” Ethan’s voice was sharp with alarm. He crouched down next to Kyle, pulling him up by the shoulders, trying to get a better look at him.

“I… I can’t…” Kyle gasped, his breath hitching. “It’s all… too much…”

Ethan’s hand was warm on his back, rubbing slow circles, grounding him in the moment. “You need to breathe, Kyle. Focus on breathing, alright? You’re gonna be okay.”

But Kyle could barely hear him over the ringing in his ears, the weight of everything crashing down on him. The pressure in his head felt unbearable, the familiar pain of the migraines coming back with a vengeance. His body trembled, and his hands were shaking as he reached out to grab Ethan’s arm, desperate for some stability.

“I… I can’t do this,” Kyle whispered, his voice broken, his eyes welling with tears he hadn’t allowed himself to shed. “I can’t lose everything. I can’t lose… her. I can’t lose myself.”

Ethan’s face softened, his grip on Kyle tightening, a silent reassurance. “Kyle, listen to me. You’re not losing everything. You’re not losing her. You’re not alone in this. You’ve never been alone, and you don’t have to be now.”

Kyle squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the overwhelming sense of dread, but it was impossible. “I can’t… I can’t even see straight. I’m losing it, Ethan.”

Ethan didn’t hesitate. “You’re not losing it, man. You’ve been through worse. You’ve handled worse. And you’ve got people who care about you—people who are gonna help you through this.”

Kyle’s chest hitched, his breath coming out in a shaky sob. “I thought I had control over everything… over my life… over my future…”

“You don’t have to have control over everything,” Ethan replied quietly, pulling Kyle into a tight hug. “You’re human, Kyle. And sometimes, you just gotta let go. Let us help you.”

Kyle clung to Ethan, not caring about the tears now streaming down his face. He didn’t care about being strong or stoic. He just wanted to hold on to something—anything—before he fell apart completely.

Kyle’s body trembled, his heart hammering against his ribcage. His mind was a storm of confusion, guilt, and the gnawing fear that had been eating him alive for weeks. But somewhere, deep down, a quiet voice whispered: She won’t leave you, Kyle. He couldn’t explain why he felt that way, why it was so certain. It wasn’t logic. It wasn’t rational. He knew that Romy loved him, even if he had hurt her tonight.

But knowing it didn’t make the fear go away. It didn’t calm the desperate need inside him to fix this, to go to her right now, to make it right.

He was about to stand, his body already halfway up from the bed, when Ethan’s voice cut through the fog.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Ethan said, his tone firm, but not harsh. He was watching Kyle closely, his eyes narrowing in concern. “Not tonight. Not in this state.”

Kyle froze, his hand gripping the edge of the mattress. “Ethan, I need to talk to her. I need to fix this. I can’t leave it like this. I can’t...”

“You’re not thinking straight,” Ethan interrupted gently. “You’re scared. And I get it, I do. But Romy doesn’t need you to fix this right now. She needs space to breathe. And you need rest, man. You’re not gonna find clarity like this, not with your head all over the place. The more you push, the more you risk making things worse.”

Kyle’s chest tightened. His throat burned with unshed emotion, but he knew Ethan was right. His thoughts were scattered, his body worn thin with anxiety. And the worst part? He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say to Romy anymore. All he knew was that he couldn’t let her go. Not like this.

“I… I don’t know what to do, Ethan.” His voice cracked, the raw panic still evident. “I’m terrified. I fucked up. I’m losing everything. I don’t know what the hell is happening to me... I can’t lose her, too.”

Ethan’s eyes softened, the worry in them giving way to a quiet understanding. “Kyle... you didn’t lose her. Not because of this. But you will lose her if you don’t take a step back. You can’t run at this with your heart this frantic. You have to calm down first. If you really love her—and I know you do—then you’ll give her the space to think. And you’ll give yourself the time to find clarity. You’ll both need it.”

Kyle’s hands clenched into fists, frustration bubbling to the surface. He hated feeling this out of control, hated that his own mind was betraying him like this. But Ethan’s words carried weight. Kyle had been there for him during his worst moments, and right now, Ethan was there for him.

After a long silence, Kyle finally slumped back onto the bed, rubbing his hands over his face. “I don’t know if I can do that. I just… I need her. I need to make this right. Now.”

“I know. But you’ve got to wait, Kyle. You’ve got to let her breathe and let yourself breathe. This doesn’t end here.” Ethan paused, then added, his voice a little quieter, “Don’t make decisions out of panic. You’ll regret it.”

Kyle nodded, though the discomfort of staying put gnawed at him. But deep down, beneath the chaos, there was a flicker of understanding. Ethan was right. He had to breathe. He had to gather himself. Romy would be okay. She needed time, and he needed time to calm down.

He exhaled shakily, sinking back into the bed. His thoughts were still spinning, the dread not quite gone, but for the first time tonight, Kyle allowed himself to close his eyes. He wasn’t losing her. But he had to let go of the panic. Just for a while.

Kyle lay there in the silence, his body still trembling but no longer on the edge of action. The weight of the night pressed down on him, but Ethan’s words circled in his mind, like an anchor pulling him back from the storm inside. He had to let go, just for now. He had to trust that this wasn’t the end.

Ethan watched him carefully, his posture tense, but his eyes understanding. Kyle had been a constant for him in the past—always the one who knew what to do, who had the answers when Ethan was lost. It was strange, seeing Kyle so raw, so unmoored. But Ethan knew this wasn’t the first time Kyle had been tested, and it wouldn’t be the last. If anyone could find his way through this, it was him. But he needed time.

“You’ve got her,” Ethan said quietly, the confidence in his voice gentle but unwavering. “And she’s not going anywhere.”

Kyle’s eyes flickered to him, the corners of his mouth twitching in a half-hearted attempt at a smile. He was exhausted—physically, emotionally—but still, deep down, there was that nagging hope. Ethan was right. Romy wouldn’t leave him over this. She loved him. That much, Kyle knew.

He exhaled slowly, trying to push the knot of tension in his chest lower. "Yeah. I know. I just… I can’t help this feeling. It’s like everything’s slipping away. First my sight, then the racing, now her... I’m terrified of losing everything.”

Ethan placed a hand on Kyle's shoulder, a grounding presence that calmed the whirlwind inside. “I get it, man. I do. She’s not walking away from you. And you need to give her the time she needs. You can’t fix this tonight. Just… take a step back.”

Kyle closed his eyes, trying to focus on his breathing, on the steadiness Ethan’s voice had brought him. Slowly, his heart rate began to settle, though his mind was still a whirlwind. But for once, he wasn’t rushing toward anything. He wasn’t running.

The weight of his panic started to lift—just enough for him to feel something else beneath it: guilt, sorrow, the fear of what had just happened with Romy. But that fear wasn’t enough to overpower the quiet voice in his mind that told him it wasn’t the end.

“Thanks,” Kyle muttered, his voice hoarse. “I’m just… so fucking scared, Ethan.”

“I know you are,” Ethan replied softly, his tone filled with sympathy. “But you’ve got this. You’ve got her. You just have to take it one step at a time. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll find a way to make this right.”

Kyle nodded again, his gaze still focused on the ceiling as he tried to regain some semblance of control over himself. The panic that had gripped him earlier had lessened, but it hadn’t disappeared. Not yet. But Ethan was right. He couldn’t fix everything at once. He needed to breathe. He needed time. And most of all, he needed Romy to have the space she needed to think, to heal, to process.

“I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” Kyle finally said, his voice stronger now. It wasn’t a promise, but it was a decision. He had to give her space tonight, just like Ethan had said. And tomorrow? Tomorrow, he would figure out how to make things right. He wasn’t going to lose her.

“Good,” Ethan said, his voice gentle but firm. “That’s the right call. Now get some sleep. You’re no good to her if you’re running on empty.”

Kyle’s lips pressed together in a tight smile. “Yeah. Thanks, man.”As the weight of the night settled into a quiet lull, Kyle closed his eyes and finally allowed himself to rest, knowing that tomorrow would come. Tomorrow, he would find the words to make it right. But for tonight, he would let go of the panic. Just for now.

Author's note :

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

“Mom, this is Romy,” Kyle said, his voice slightly hesitant, as if even he could feel the rift between their worlds.

Romy offered a warm smile and extended her hand. “It’s lovely to meet you,” she said, doing her best to sound composed. But Kyle’s mother didn’t offer her hand in return. Instead, her sharp eyes flicked up and down, scanning Romy’s perfectly tailored jacket, her designer sunglasses, and the polished, expensive scent of her perfume.

“I see Kyle’s taste hasn’t changed,” she said coldly, her tone layered with meaning. She barely acknowledged Romy’s greeting, her gaze quickly shifting to Kyle as she stepped aside to let them in.

The house was modest, comfortable, and smelled faintly of wood and earth, a far cry from the sleek, modern interiors Romy was used to. She couldn’t help but feel more out of place with each step.

Dinner was a painfully silent affair, the kind of silence that made Romy’s skin crawl. Kyle’s mother had prepared a simple meal—roast chicken, mashed potatoes, vegetables—but there was nothing simple about the undercurrent of animosity in the air.

“So, Kyle tells me you’re a driver too,” Kyle’s mom said, breaking the silence but with a tone that was anything but welcoming. She passed Romy the bowl of mashed potatoes with a deliberate slowness, eyes narrowing slightly. “I guess that’s how you keep busy, being in the same world as him. But I wonder, does all that racing really… suit you? I mean, it’s not exactly a lifestyle for a lady, is it?”

Romy’s heart sank, but she forced a smile. “I’ve always enjoyed it,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

Kyle’s mom didn’t miss a beat. “Mm. I suppose so. Though, I imagine someone like you might be more suited to a quiet life. A proper life. Not this… whirlwind Kyle’s caught up in.” She glanced over at Kyle, her eyes narrowing with something almost like disapproval. “I worry, you know. All that racing. The stress. The constant traveling. It can’t be good for him. And you—” she shot a look at Romy, her gaze ice-cold “—you’ve been with him through all of this, haven’t you? I just hope it’s not too much for him. You know, with his condition.”

Romy froze. Her stomach twisted as the words landed like a slap in the face. Her mind reeled. She’s blaming me. She’s blaming me for his health.

“Mom, we’ve talked about this,” Kyle said, his voice defensive, but there was a slight edge to it that Romy hadn’t heard before. “Romy isn’t the reason I have AMD. It’s just the way it is. We’ve been through this.”

But his mother was relentless. “I know my son,” she said sharply, her voice lowering as she focused on Kyle. “I’ve watched him push himself too hard for too long. And now, look at him. I just can’t help but wonder if things would be different if he had someone more—more grounded. Someone who could help him stay away from all this. This lifestyle. Maybe then, he wouldn’t be falling apart.”

Romy flinched at the words. It felt like every harsh syllable cut straight through her. She tried to keep her gaze steady, but she could feel her pulse racing, the bitterness of the accusation stinging her chest. She doesn’t just hate me. She hates what I represent.

The tension in the room was suffocating. Romy looked at Kyle, but his expression was unreadable. He wanted to defend her, she could see that, but there was a hesitation in his eyes that made her stomach turn. She felt the weight of his mother’s judgment more than she ever had before.

Is this really how it’s going to be? Romy thought bitterly. Is she going to blame me every time Kyle struggles? Every time he’s in pain?

She glanced at her own hands, noticing how they were shaking slightly. She’d spent years building her career, her image, trying to prove herself worthy of the success she had, but none of it seemed to matter here. To Kyle’s mom, she wasn’t Romy, the woman who had fought tooth and nail to get where she was. She was just a girl who didn’t fit into the world Kyle had come from—a world she didn’t even understand.

And as the conversation continued around her, Romy couldn’t shake the feeling that nothing she did would ever be enough for his mother. She wasn’t from the right world, didn’t understand the right values, and worst of all—she was the one who had made Kyle’s health worse.

She bit down on the retort rising in her chest but kept quiet, trying to swallow the bitterness that threatened to rise. Kyle’s mom didn’t care that she loved him. She didn’t care about Romy’s devotion to him, her endless support, or her determination to be with him despite everything. In her eyes, Romy was just a symbol of everything that had taken Kyle away from the family she still believed he belonged to.

Kyle cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he reached for Romy’s hand under the table. His fingers brushed against hers in a brief moment of support, but even that small comfort didn’t feel like enough.

“Mom, we’ve been over this,” he said, trying to keep his tone steady, but his frustration was growing. “Romy is not the cause of my condition. I know you don’t like the racing, but this is my life. This is what I’ve chosen, and it’s not because of her, okay?”

His mother’s gaze hardened, the disappointment clear in her eyes. “I just don’t see how you could think this lifestyle is good for you, Kyle. You’ve changed. You’re not the same boy I raised.” Her voice was soft, but the implication stung.

Romy squeezed Kyle’s hand, trying to steady herself. She had expected some resistance, some discomfort, but the hostility in his mother’s words was something she hadn’t been prepared for.

She stood up suddenly, her chair scraping loudly against the wooden floor. “I think I need some air,” she said, her voice tight with emotion. Kyle’s concerned eyes followed her, but he didn’t stop her. He knew she needed space. She needed to clear her head, before this became something worse.

As she stepped out onto the porch, the cool evening air hit her face, but it did little to soothe the burning frustration that threatened to boil over.

I’m never going to be good enough for her, am I?

The thought settled in her chest like a heavy stone.

The race weekend had already started with an uncomfortable air, and Romy felt it the moment she stepped into the paddock. Kyle’s home race was supposed to be a time of excitement and pride, but it felt different now. His family, already a challenge to navigate, was all around. The bright lights and the hum of the race cars should have been enough to take her mind off things, but there was an undeniable heaviness to the atmosphere that she couldn’t shake.

And then, out of nowhere, there she was—Hilary.

Seeing her in person was something else entirely. Hilary stood tall, effortlessly poised, in a tailored black dress and heels, a sharp contrast to the gritty, race-day environment. She wasn’t here for the race. She was here for Kyle.

The moment Romy laid eyes on Hilary, she could feel the shift in the air. It wasn’t just the fact that Hilary was stunning and impeccably confident, it was the way she carried herself. There was no doubt in Romy’s mind that Hilary had planned this—she wasn’t here just to "support" Kyle. No, Hilary wanted something, and Romy could feel the intent in every gesture, in the way her gaze lingered on Kyle just a little too long, the way she leaned in close when they spoke.

Hilary wasn’t just there for the race. She was there to remind everyone, including Romy, of the past—the past that Kyle’s mother wished was still the present.

It wasn’t lost on Romy that Kyle’s mom had been the one who made sure Hilary had VIP paddock passes. Kyle hadn’t invited her. That was clear. But his mother? She had orchestrated it, just as she had done with so many other things in Kyle’s life. "Kyle needs support from people who understand him," she had said. "Hilary knows him better than anyone."

The irony wasn’t lost on Romy. Hilary was everything Kyle’s family wanted for him, everything Romy wasn’t.

The race itself felt like an even greater chasm between the two worlds Kyle and Romy occupied. While Kyle was out on the track, living his dream, surrounded by his team and supporters, Romy was struggling to keep her car in the race.

Her vehicle—a relic from a season gone wrong—barely held together as she wrestled with it on the track. The car wasn’t the problem—it was a reflection of her current situation. Underperforming. Struggling. Trying to keep up.

Kyle, on the other hand, was in his element. The roar of the crowd, the steady hum of the engine under him—it was all perfection. Every lap, every moment on the track was flawless. He was making his family proud. His performance, as always, was incredible, and the cameras and media were eating it up.

As Romy pushed her underperforming car into the pit lane, she saw Kyle’s mom, standing proudly, her eyes trained on Kyle. Every cheer for him felt like another dagger in her chest. But what really stung was the way Kyle’s mother spoke of Hilary.

“She always knew how to push Kyle to be his best,” she said to anyone who would listen, watching Kyle as he zoomed past. “They were perfect together, you know. I’ve never seen him this focused since they were together.”

Romy clenched her fists, fighting the urge to turn away and retreat. Her mind kept replaying the words, They were perfect together. What did that make her?

Romy’s frustration reached its peak as the weekend dragged on. Kyle was surrounded by praise, adored by his team, his family, and the media. And then there was Hilary, who seemed to fit into Kyle’s world with effortless ease.

Every moment Hilary spent with Kyle—laughing, reminiscing, holding his attention—felt like a silent message to Romy that she would never be the woman Kyle’s family wanted him to have. She wasn’t enough. Not like Hilary.

And the worst part? Kyle didn’t seem to notice.

When he wasn’t racing, he was by Hilary’s side, talking about the old days, their past, and their shared memories. He seemed so at ease with her, so natural, in a way that Romy could never be. Romy fought the gnawing voice in her head that told her she would never fit in with this world, this family. It was like they were all living in a world where she didn’t exist—where she didn’t belong.

For the first time in a long while, Romy felt small. She was a city girl in a world of farming roots, a woman who didn’t belong in this rural place, with this humble family. And worse—she was the outsider in Kyle’s own life, someone who couldn’t ever live up to the past that his mother would always hold dear.

As she watched Kyle and Hilary interact once more, Romy couldn’t help but wonder if she had ever stood a chance at being the one to stand by his side in this world.

As the weekend unfolded, Romy couldn’t escape the feeling of being an outsider in a world where she didn’t belong. The more she watched Hilary interact with Kyle, the more she realized this wasn’t just about the race. There was something else in the way Hilary moved around him—something far more familiar and far more dangerous.

Hilary’s every glance at Kyle seemed to carry a hidden message, a reminder of a time when they had been the couple, the pair everyone had expected to last. The way her hand brushed Kyle’s arm as they spoke, the lingering smiles, and the way she leaned in when he laughed—it all felt like a reminder of what could have been. What should have been—at least, according to his mother.

Romy didn’t want to admit it, but it hurt. Every time Kyle smiled at Hilary or shared a moment with her, she felt a knot tighten in her chest. The woman before her wasn’t just a blast from the past—she was the epitome of everything Kyle’s family would always want him to return to.

And Romy? She was the one standing in the shadows, out of place, surrounded by a world she could never truly understand.

The day had been long—too long—and Kyle was exhausted. The race weekend had already been a whirlwind of practice, interviews, and endless pressure. But today, with his home race behind him and a win under his belt, it felt like a different kind of chaos. The sound of the roaring engines still echoed in his ears, but his mind kept circling back to something else.

He walked out of the garage, the weight of his helmet in his hands a familiar comfort, but it wasn’t enough to shake the tension gnawing at him. The win had felt amazing, but something about the day had been off. Maybe it was the pressure of performing in front of his hometown crowd. Or maybe it was because he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was waiting to shift.

Kyle had already crossed paths with Hilary multiple times throughout the weekend. She’d been at the paddock, gliding through the VIP area, offering him smiles and casual congratulations, as though nothing had changed since they were together. At first, her presence didn’t faze him; it was just a familiar face in a sea of new ones. But the more he interacted with her, the more he noticed how natural it felt to be around her again—almost too natural.

Now, as he left the garage, feeling the weight of his victory, he spotted her standing near the edge of the paddock, watching him with that same knowing smile. She didn’t wait for him to come over, instead taking a few steps toward him, her presence as smooth and effortless as always.

"Hey, Kyle," she said, her voice soft, yet with an edge of something more intimate, something inviting.

"Hey, Hilary," he replied, trying to mask the mix of emotions churning inside him. He had just won his race, but it felt like there was a storm brewing beneath the surface. Her gaze lingered on him just a beat longer than necessary, and it hit him that, in some ways, this wasn't just a casual greeting.

"You looked great out there," she said, her smile a little too perfect. "It must feel amazing to win your home race, huh?"

Kyle nodded, offering a small smile. "Yeah, it does. It’s always a special one." But he couldn’t shake the feeling that her words were layered with more than just polite congratulations.

"I bet," Hilary continued, taking a deliberate step closer, as if to emphasize her point. "But you always were a fighter, Kyle. Even when it was tough."

Kyle blinked, thrown off by the undercurrent in her tone. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there. Something deeper beneath the surface. "Yeah, well, racing’s all about perseverance."

She nodded slowly, her gaze never leaving his face. "And you're doing great. Everyone’s been talking about how much you’ve changed—how much you've grown. It’s impressive."

Kyle shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to respond. He appreciated her words, but it felt like there was an agenda behind them.

"You know," Hilary continued, taking another step closer, her voice lowering to almost a whisper, "I’ve been thinking about how long it’s been since we really talked." She gave him a small, knowing smile, a glint in her eyes that Kyle couldn’t quite decipher. "You’ve been so busy with Romy, I get it. But still… after everything, don’t you think we should catch up?"

The suggestion hung in the air, and for a moment, Kyle didn’t know how to react. His mind flashed briefly to Romy, who was likely still in the garage, working behind the scenes, doing everything she could to support him. But the way Hilary stood before him, confident and poised, it was hard to ignore the familiarity of it. It was like slipping into a pair of shoes he hadn’t worn in a while—comfortable, but a little too tight in spots.

"I don’t know," Kyle said slowly, his mind racing. "It’s been a while, and things are a little different now."

Hilary’s smile didn’t falter. She took another step closer, close enough that Kyle could feel the heat of her presence. "Yeah, things change," she said softly, her voice taking on a nostalgic tone. "But some things… some things don’t change, Kyle. You know that, right?"

Kyle’s breath caught for a moment, unsure if he was hearing what he thought he was hearing. There was an intensity in her words, a quiet pull that made him remember things he had buried.

Before he could respond, Hilary reached out, lightly touching his arm, the contact fleeting but enough to send a jolt through him. "I just think we owe it to ourselves to talk," she said, her voice low, almost intimate now. "It’s been too long since we were honest with each other, don't you think?"

Kyle’s pulse quickened, but he wasn’t sure whether it was from the warmth of her touch or the sudden weight of her words. The feeling was familiar, but also confusing. He wasn’t sure where the line between past and present was anymore.

"I really should get back," he said, pulling himself together. "I have to check in with the team. There’s a lot to do after a win."

Hilary tilted her head slightly, her eyes softening. "Of course. You’re always so focused, Kyle," she said, the words almost a tease. "But, you know, I’m here if you ever want to talk. Just like old times."

"Thanks, Hilary," he said, his voice tight. "I’ll keep that in mind."

The celebrations had died down, but the adrenaline from the race still buzzed through Kyle’s veins. It was supposed to be a high point in his career—winning his home race. Yet, something felt off. It wasn’t just the tension from his interactions with Hilary or his mother’s biting remarks. It was Romy. He hadn’t seen her for a while, and he couldn’t ignore the subtle distance between them.

As he walked through the paddock, his eyes scanned for her. Then he found her. Alone. A few steps away from the usual crowd, in a secluded part of the paddock, her back turned to him, her posture stiff as though she were trying to hold herself together.

Romy had been so strong all weekend—focused, determined, even in the face of adversity. But now, in the quiet space between them, he could see the cracks. He moved toward her, his heart tightening at the sight of her vulnerability.

He didn’t speak right away. Instead, he gently took her hand in his, sitting down beside her on the bench, a few feet away from the chaos of the paddock. The soft click of boots on pavement, the laughter and shouts in the distance, felt worlds away. Here, it was just him and her.

“Romy,” Kyle said softly, his voice full of concern, “I don’t care about anyone else, okay? I don’t care about my mother, or Hilary, or the damn car. You matter to me. You always will.”

Romy turned toward him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, but she quickly wiped them away, trying to maintain control. It wasn’t like her to show this side of herself—this rawness, this brokenness. But it had been a long weekend. And everything, the weight of the race, the pressure, and the jabs from Kyle’s family, had finally come crashing down on her.

Her voice trembled as she spoke, a crack in her otherwise strong facade. “You’re winning, Kyle,” she whispered, her eyes fixed on the ground. “You’ve got it all—your family, your career, your success. And here I am, failing at every turn. My car’s a disaster, and your mom... she’s right. I don’t belong here. I can’t even keep up with you. Maybe she was right about me.”

Her words stung, and Kyle felt a pang of guilt that twisted his insides. He had never wanted her to feel like this—like she wasn’t enough. But her words resonated deeply, and for a moment, he understood the weight she had been carrying. The fear that she would never fit in with his world.

He took a deep breath, fighting the surge of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him, and cupped her face in his hands, gently but firmly. He turned her face to meet his eyes, the vulnerability in her expression almost too much to bear.

“Romy,” he began, his voice steady but soft, “She’s wrong. You’re more than enough for me. Don’t let anyone make you feel like you’re not. I know this weekend has been tough. But we’re in this together. We’ll figure it out, no matter how hard it gets. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Romy closed her eyes, her breath hitching as she tried to steady herself. She felt his warmth, his sincerity in the way he held her, the way he always seemed to be there when she needed him most. But a small part of her still struggled to believe that she could truly belong in this world.

The pressure, the constant comparisons, and the way Kyle’s family seemed to doubt her—it all weighed heavily on her heart. But here, with Kyle’s words, she found a fragile thread of hope.

She finally met his gaze, her voice barely above a whisper. “I want to believe that, Kyle. I really do. But it’s hard. Every step I take feels like I'm falling behind.”

Kyle kissed her forehead softly, his touch warm and comforting. “I know it’s hard,” he said, his thumb gently brushing away a tear that had escaped down her cheek. “But you’re not alone. You don’t have to be anyone but yourself with me. That’s all I need.”

Romy took a shaky breath, letting herself lean into him, her head resting on his shoulder. The noise of the paddock seemed so far away now, replaced by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

For the first time in days, Romy felt herself letting go—of the tension, the doubt, the pressure. She let herself believe, even if just for a moment, that she was enough. For him.

And in that moment, Kyle whispered softly into her hair, “We’re a team, Romy. Always.”

After the intense chaos of the weekend—after the race, the celebrations, the tensions with his family, and the endless expectations—it felt like the world had been swirling around them nonstop. But for a brief moment, Kyle and Romy managed to carve out something rare: a small, private space where the chaos of the paddock and the weight of the race couldn’t reach them.

They found each other on the far side of the track, a quiet pathway leading to a secluded area, away from the prying eyes of the pit crew and the fans. The air was crisp, the sound of the roaring engines far away now, replaced by the rustle of trees and the distant chatter of the event winding down.

Kyle had his arm around Romy, and as they walked, the pressure of the weekend seemed to melt away, if only for a moment. Romy could feel the tension in her shoulders slowly releasing. She glanced up at Kyle, seeing him in a new light—his face relaxed, his eyes focused on her.

This was the Kyle she loved—not the champion driver, not the son caught between two worlds, but the man who had been with her through it all. The man who had shared the highs and lows of their relationship, the one who saw her for who she truly was.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” she said quietly, looking around at the quiet surroundings.

Kyle nodded, his hand gently squeezing hers. “Yeah. It’s good to get away from it all for a bit.”

They walked in comfortable silence for a while, with nothing but the soft crunch of gravel beneath their feet and the occasional laugh shared between them.

In that fleeting space, Romy remembered why she loved him—not because of the fame or the success, not because of the racing victories or the way people admired him, but because of the way he treated her. He was kind, he was real, and in a world filled with expectations and pressure, he had always made her feel seen.

Kyle glanced over at her, his eyes soft. “You doing okay?” he asked, his voice gentle.

Romy met his gaze, offering him a small, genuine smile. “I am now,” she said, her heart feeling lighter than it had in days.

But even in this peaceful moment, the weight of everything that had happened—and everything still to come—was never far from her mind. She couldn’t forget the way Kyle’s mother had looked at her during their brief meeting, the way Hilary’s presence had felt like a shadow over them. The race weekend had been one more reminder that their lives were never going to be simple.

There would be no escaping the expectations of Kyle’s family, no escaping the challenges that came with being with someone so deeply entrenched in the racing world. Romy still didn’t feel like she truly belonged, and with Hilary’s reappearance, she couldn’t shake the feeling that her place in Kyle’s life was something constantly under threat.

As they stopped walking and stood in the quiet, her hand in his, Romy took a deep breath. Kyle leaned down, brushing a strand of hair from her face as he kissed her forehead softly.

For now, they had each other. And that was enough.

But as the weekend came to a close and they made their way back to the paddock, the reality of everything that still lay ahead loomed. The challenges, the insecurities, the expectations—they were all still there, waiting for them.

But for tonight, as they stood together under the fading light, Romy held onto the warmth of Kyle’s presence. For tonight, it was enough to know that, in this moment, they were together. And that was all that mattered.

Author's note :

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

Her gaze swept across the valley, the jagged peaks jutting into a pale gray sky. The view, once a source of inspiration, was now just a canvas for her emptiness. She hadn’t touched her car keys since she’d arrived, hadn’t driven on the winding alpine roads she once adored. Even the thought of sitting behind the wheel made her stomach churn with a mix of grief and guilt.

Inside, the house was an ode to luxury—sleek modern lines, expansive glass walls showcasing the surrounding mountains, and every comfort money could buy. Yet none of it brought her solace. The plush white rugs, the flicker of the fireplace, the soft leather of the designer couch—all seemed alien and cold, as if they belonged to someone else’s life.

Her mother moved quietly through the space, always nearby but never intrusive. Helena had flown in as soon as Romy had called, sensing the weight of her daughter’s silence even before words had been spoken. Now she moved about the kitchen, her motions deliberate and soothing, as if the simple act of making soup could stitch together the pieces of her fractured child.

“You should eat something,” Helena’s soft voice interrupted the stillness. She placed a bowl of steaming soup on the counter, her expression a mixture of concern and helplessness.

“I’m not hungry,” Romy replied, her voice flat and distant. She didn’t turn around, her gaze fixed on the horizon where the mountains met the sky.

Helena sighed, her shoulders drooping slightly, but she didn’t push. Instead, she stepped closer, placing a hand on Romy’s shoulder. Her fingers were warm, firm but gentle, like an anchor trying to steady her against the storm.

“Grief has a way of taking everything from us,” Helena murmured. “But you can’t let it take your strength too.”

Romy’s throat tightened, the words piercing through her apathy. “I don’t have any strength left,” she whispered, the confession tumbling out before she could stop it.

“You do,” Helena insisted, her voice steady. “Even if you can’t see it now, it’s there.”

Romy exhaled slowly, her breath visible in the cold air, and fought against the tears threatening to spill. She wanted to believe her mother, wanted to find that strength, but all she felt was the crushing weight of what she had lost.

The soup sat untouched on the counter as Helena retreated to the other room, giving Romy the space she craved. Romy remained on the balcony, her arms tightening around herself. The vastness of the mountains stretched out before her, mocking her insignificance. She had once felt invincible, a force to be reckoned with on the track. Now she was just a shadow, a ghost of the woman she used to be.

Kyle’s grief was a quiet storm, one that didn’t erupt in loud, angry bursts, but simmered beneath the surface, a constant ache he couldn’t shake. His flat in Monaco—sleek and modern, a testament to his Formula 1 success—felt almost like a prison now. The yachts bobbed gently in the harbor outside his window, a stark reminder of everything he had worked for, and yet, they felt foreign. His life had been about speed, about keeping ahead of the curve, but here, in this space, time stood still. It was as if the world had moved on without him, leaving him stuck, lost in the past.

His hands trembled as they gripped the edge of the bed. The memory of Romy’s touch lingered, faint but persistent, like a ghost he couldn’t exorcise. When she left for Switzerland, there had been a sense of resignation in her eyes—her need for space was clear, but it felt like a betrayal nonetheless. Kyle had known it was coming, yet nothing prepared him for the emptiness she left behind. He thought of the final moments they had shared, her distant gaze, her voice just above a whisper, and the way her hand slipped from his, the warmth of it fading as she walked out the door. That touch, that absence, stayed with him, an aching reminder of what he had lost. He had let her go, but now, without her, everything felt hollow.

The thought of calling Romy crossed his mind more times than he cared to admit. His phone sat like an anchor in his hand, a weight that kept him rooted in place. What could he say? His grief had become a knot in his throat, choking off any words he might want to say. He didn’t know if he had the right to intrude on her pain when he was drowning in his own. The silence between them was thick, suffocating. He could feel the distance between them stretching out farther every day. The silence in his apartment felt like a tangible thing, pressing in from all sides. It made it harder to breathe, harder to think.

He couldn’t forget the last conversation they had before she left—her words clipped, her tone flat. There had been so much unsaid between them, so many things left hanging in the air, unresolved. Kyle had known, deep down, that something was wrong, that she was slipping away, but he hadn’t known how to stop it. He hadn’t known how to save her or their future together. That knowledge haunted him, gnawing at him like a constant, aching hunger.

In the quiet of his kitchen, his hands shook as he gripped the counter. He tried to steady himself, but his breath came in short, sharp bursts. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Romy’s face—the way her smile would light up a room, how her laughter could fill any empty space. Now, that smile seemed like a distant memory, something he could never touch again. The thought of their baby, the one they had lost, weighed heavily on his heart. He couldn’t protect Romy, couldn’t protect their child, and that failure, that grief, felt like a leaden weight on his chest. It was the kind of grief that didn’t just stay in the mind; it seeped into the bones, the skin, the soul.

As he lay in bed, the darkness of the night pressing in around him, he whispered into the emptiness, “I’m sorry, Romy. I’m so sorry.” His voice cracked, the words hollow, unable to reach her. It was all he had left to offer her—an apology that didn’t change anything.

The decision to fly to Switzerland was one Kyle had agonized over for days. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, but the ache in his chest was unbearable, the weight of his grief heavier than anything he had ever faced on or off the track. He couldn’t keep pretending he was okay, couldn’t keep drowning in silence. The thought of seeing Romy again, of being near her, gave him the faintest spark of hope—hope that maybe, just maybe, they could begin to heal together.

As the plane touched down in Zurich, the cold winter air hit him like a slap. Kyle barely registered the bustle around him as he made his way through the airport. His mind kept looping back to the same thought: What if she doesn’t want to see me? What if I’ve waited too long? He tried to shake off the anxiety, but it clung to him like a second skin. The last thing he wanted was to show up on her doorstep, a broken man begging for forgiveness, but that was exactly what he had become. A man who couldn’t fix anything—least of all himself.

The drive from Zurich to the mountainside retreat felt like an eternity. The quiet of the landscape, blanketed in snow, was almost suffocating. Every bend in the road felt like a metaphor for the twisted path their relationship had taken. Kyle’s hands gripped the armrests of the car, his stomach in knots, but he couldn’t turn back. Not now.

When he arrived at her doorstep, Romy was standing there, her expression unreadable. She was wrapped in a thick scarf, her blonde hair tucked under a knit hat. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Kyle's heart pounded in his chest, and he could see the wariness in her eyes. He knew he must have looked like a mess—disheveled, eyes red-rimmed from sleepless nights, his jacket wrinkled from the long flight.

"Kyle… what are you doing here?" Her voice was soft, almost too soft. It was the kind of voice you use when you're trying to keep the walls intact, when you're afraid of what the other person might do to them.

Kyle opened his mouth, but the words were stuck. He took a deep breath and looked at her, the woman he loved, the woman who had torn a hole in his heart by walking away. He hadn’t prepared a speech, hadn’t thought through what to say. He only knew one thing: I need her.

"I needed to see you," he said finally, his voice cracking under the weight of his own vulnerability. "I can't… I can’t do this without you." His words were simple, but they hung in the air, raw and unrefined. They felt like a confession, an admission of his brokenness.

Romy stared at him for a long moment, her face a study of indecision. Kyle could see the tears threatening to spill from her eyes, but she held them back, her lips pressed into a tight line. The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating, until she stepped back and gestured for him to come inside.

They sat in front of the fire, the crackling flames a stark contrast to the coldness that filled the room. Kyle ran a hand through his hair, his fingers trembling. Romy remained silent beside him, her posture stiff, her gaze trained on the fire as if she could lose herself in its flickering light.

After what felt like an eternity, Kyle couldn’t take the silence any longer. "I’ve been blaming myself for everything," he said, his voice thick with emotion. The words came spilling out, each one heavier than the last. "For the crash, for what happened to us… to the baby." The admission tore at him, each phrase a fresh wound.

Romy's eyes glistened with unshed tears. She turned her face away, biting her lip to keep from breaking down. Her hands trembled in her lap as she struggled to maintain control. "I’ve been blaming myself too," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "For not realizing, for pushing my body too hard… for everything." The weight of her guilt was evident in her words, the way her voice cracked at the end.

Kyle reached out instinctively, his hand finding hers, covering it gently. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, even though it had been so long since they’d touched. His fingers intertwined with hers, offering what little comfort he had left to give.

"We can’t keep doing this to ourselves," Kyle continued, his voice shaky. "We can’t heal if we’re apart." The words were almost a plea. He didn’t want to live in this constant state of pain, this never-ending cycle of regret and distance. He wanted them back—the way they were before everything fell apart. Maybe it was naïve, but in that moment, it was all he could hope for.

Romy’s breath hitched, and she finally turned to look at him, her eyes filled with a vulnerability that mirrored his own. For the first time in what felt like forever, the walls she had built around herself seemed to crack. Her lips trembled as she spoke, her voice barely audible. "I don’t know if I can just… forget what happened. I don’t know if we can fix this."

Kyle’s heart sank at her words, but he squeezed her hand, his grip firm. "I’m not asking you to forget," he said, his voice steady but full of longing. "I’m asking you to give us a chance. We don’t have to figure everything out right now, but we have to stop punishing ourselves. We’ve both lost so much already. I don’t want to lose you too."

Romy closed her eyes for a moment, her forehead creased in thought. The pain in her expression was undeniable, but so was the love that had once burned so brightly between them. Slowly, her eyes opened again, and she met his gaze. It was raw, unguarded. "I don’t know if I can let you in again," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I don’t know if I’m strong enough."

Kyle leaned forward, his eyes locked on hers, his heart in his throat. "You don’t have to be strong. Not alone. I’ll be here. We’ll do this together. Please, Romy."

For a long time, she didn’t answer. Her hand tightened in his, the silence hanging heavy between them. But then, slowly, she nodded. A single tear slipped down her cheek, and Kyle wiped it away with his thumb, his touch gentle, reverent.

"I don’t know what the future holds," she said softly, her voice shaky, "but I’m willing to try. For us. For what we were."

Kyle's heart swelled with a mixture of relief and uncertainty. It wasn’t the resolution he had hoped for, but it was something—an opening, a possibility. He wasn’t sure what the next step would look like, but in that moment, he didn’t care. He had her, and that was all that mattered.

And maybe, just maybe, they could begin to heal—together.

The morning light spilled gently over the Swiss mountains, the soft hum of the early morning air filling the space between them. Kyle sat across from Romy on the balcony, the warmth of the sun brushing against his skin as he sipped his coffee. For a moment, everything was quiet. The kind of peace that felt hard-earned, fragile. After everything they had been through, after all the pain and loss, it felt like a gift.

But Kyle had something on his mind. Something important. He set his mug down, his fingers lingering on the rim for a moment, then turned his gaze to Romy. His eyes, always so clear and confident on the racetrack, now seemed full of hesitation.

“I want to take you somewhere,” he said, his voice soft but sincere, almost as if he were testing the waters.

Romy looked at him, the light glinting off the peaks of the mountains, her heart suddenly racing. She knew Kyle had grown up in a small town in Kentucky, but they had never really talked about it in depth. It was as if that part of his life was something he kept for himself, something he didn’t often share. They had been together for months now, but the idea of meeting his family... it felt like stepping into uncharted territory.

"Where?" she asked, her voice cautious but curious, trying to mask the slight unease bubbling up inside her.

"Home," Kyle replied, his tone so simple, yet laden with something deeper. A quiet invitation.

Romy blinked, surprised. “Home?” she echoed, unsure if she had heard him right. “To Kentucky?”

Kyle nodded slowly, his lips curling into a half-smile, though there was something almost wistful in his eyes. "Yeah. I want you to meet my family."

A silence hung in the air, and Romy’s stomach tightened. She had met many people in her life, but she had never met anyone’s parents in this kind of situation. Not like this. Not when there were so many unspoken things between them. She had never even been inside Kyle’s world like this—his true roots, the place where he grew up, the people who shaped him.

Her voice faltered as she tried to put her thoughts into words. "Kyle, I— I don’t know…"

"I know it’s a big step, but I think it’s time," he said, his eyes softening with something unspoken. "You’ve been with me through so much. You deserve to see where I come from. And I need you to meet them."

Romy’s heart skipped. But there was something else nagging at her—a feeling she couldn’t shake. Meeting his family was more than just a chance to learn about his past. It was an entrance into a world where she was unsure of her place. His family wasn’t like hers. They weren’t part of the F1 world she was so used to—this was a different world entirely. A quieter, more humble world. And from what Kyle had told her about his parents, especially his mother, she wasn’t sure how she would fit in.

“I’ve never met anyone’s parents like this, Kyle. And your mom…” She hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “She’s not exactly... thrilled that you’re with me, is she?”

Kyle’s face tightened slightly, and his fingers absentmindedly traced the rim of his mug. “My mom’s old-fashioned,” he admitted, his voice low. "She’s always thought I’d go back to Hilary... thought that I should have stayed with her. It’s hard to explain, but my mom... she doesn’t like change."

Romy felt a pang of discomfort. She knew Hilary—had seen her around the paddocks on a few occasions. Kyle’s first love, someone he had dated before he and Romy became involved. The idea that Kyle’s mom would prefer that relationship to theirs stung. But at the same time, Romy understood. Her own relationships had never been easy to navigate with her family, and she had worked hard to build her career while keeping her personal life a bit of a mystery.

Still, the prospect of being compared to someone from Kyle’s past—someone his family still seemed to wish he was with—was a difficult pill to swallow.

“I’m not Hilary,” Romy said quietly, more to herself than to him, the words carrying a mixture of vulnerability and bitterness. She didn’t even want to think about the woman Kyle had once shared his future with. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that. To feel like... I’m just a replacement.”

Kyle immediately reached out, his hand warm on hers. “You’re not a replacement, Romy,” he said, his voice firm. “I chose you. And that’s not just a choice for now, it’s for the rest of my life. My mom... she’ll come around. She’s just stubborn. But she’ll see how much you mean to me, how much you’ve done for me, for us.” His voice softened. “She just needs time.”

Romy met his gaze, feeling the sincerity in his words. She knew he was right. Kyle was a family-oriented guy. And if he was asking her to meet them, it meant something deep to him. But still, the fear lingered. What if they didn’t accept her? What if they judged her? What if his mom saw her as an outsider, someone who didn’t belong in their close-knit world?

“I don’t know if I can handle the pressure, Kyle,” she said, the words leaving her mouth before she could stop them. “What if I don’t fit in? What if... what if your mom never accepts me? I’m not the girl you were supposed to end up with. You know that, right? I’m a F1 driver too. My world isn’t like hers. My life is... nothing like what she might’ve imagined for you.”

Kyle squeezed her hand, his expression unwavering. “You think I care about that?” His voice softened with affection. “I don’t care about any of that. I love you, Romy. I don’t need my mom to love you for me to know you’re the one. But I dowant you to meet her. I want you to see where I come from, see the things that shaped me. If I want my future with you, then you need to see my past. It's a part of me, just like you are."

She took a deep breath, her mind racing. She had never been someone who was easily swayed by external pressure. She had worked too hard, fought too hard, to let anyone dictate her choices. And Kyle was right—he had chosen her. But this? This was different. Meeting his family, meeting his mom—the thought felt like a huge leap.

“I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, the weight of her own vulnerability surprising her. “I’m scared of not fitting in, of being judged. I’m scared of being compared to someone else, someone who’s already part of your history.”

Kyle’s thumb gently caressed the back of her hand, and his gaze softened even more. “I know it’s scary. But I’ll be right there with you. And if they can’t see how incredible you are, then that’s on them, not on you. We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Romy closed her eyes for a moment, absorbing the warmth of his words, his presence. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for this, but Kyle’s steady hand in hers, his unwavering belief in them, made her feel like maybe—just maybe—she could take that step.

Finally, she nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Okay. Let’s go. But you’re warning your mom about me first,” she said, teasing, trying to lighten the mood.

Kyle chuckled, his eyes full of affection. “I’ll warn her. But I’m not sure she’ll believe me. You’re too good for me, Romy. That’s what I’ll tell her.”

She laughed softly, the tension easing just a little. “That’s a start.”

And with that, they both stood up, ready to face the next step—together, no matter how uncertain it might feel.

Author's note :

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

Kyle was across the paddock, his eyes catching hers for a brief moment. She barely returned the glance, too focused on the task at hand. The lingering tension from Nürburgring was still there—unspoken but evident in the distance between them. He understood her look—determined, fiery, and, at times, reckless. Romy had a way of shutting everything else out when she was in the zone, but Kyle knew her better than anyone.

The formation lap began, and Romy gripped the steering wheel with purpose. The cold air filled her lungs, her mind racing as she mentally ran through her strategy. But there was something else simmering beneath the surface—an unsettling sense of nausea she couldn't quite explain. She chalked it up to adrenaline, the pressure mounting with each passing second, and the unyielding weight of expectation.

The lights went out. The race began in a frenzy.

Romy’s instincts kicked in. She accelerated, defending her position aggressively, weaving her Audi through the tight corners of Eau Rouge and up the hill toward Raidillon. The speed, the precision—it felt like she was in perfect harmony with the car. Kyle was just ahead, locked in a fierce battle with a Mercedes, and Romy’s eyes flicked between the two cars, searching for any opening.

Her engineer’s voice crackled in her ear. “Stay focused, Romy. You’ve got pace, but watch your lines.”

She barely registered the warning. She was in the zone now, pushing harder. Approaching La Source, she spotted an opening—a small gap between Kyle and the Mercedes. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. She went for it.

But then it happened—everything went wrong in an instant.

Kyle swerved slightly to avoid the Mercedes pinching him. His movement cut into Romy’s line. Her car clipped his rear tire, sending her into the gravel. Her heart pounded as she tried to regain control, but it was too late. The gravel took her, and she slid toward the barriers.

“Yellow flag. Romy, are you okay?” her engineer’s voice broke through the static, urgently.

Romy’s hands clenched the wheel tightly, her breath ragged as she assessed the damage. The car had skidded into the barriers, the front wing a mangled mess. Her vision blurred, but she knew she was intact. Just shaken, and angry.

“What is he doing?!” she snapped over the radio, her frustration bubbling over. “Swerved right when I was about to overtake! Unbelievable!”

Kyle’s onboard replay flashed across the broadcast. His voice was calm but irritated. “Didn’t see her. Blind spot. Is she okay?”

“She’s out of the car,” his engineer replied. “She’s fine.”

Kyle sighed, clearly frustrated. “Copy. Damn it.”

Romy stormed back into the garage, her helmet under her arm, face flushed with anger. Her fingers were still trembling. Her stomach churned again, the nausea creeping back, sharper this time.

“What an ass!” she spat, throwing her gloves onto the bench, her voice thick with bitterness.

Julia handed her a water bottle, trying to offer comfort, but Romy’s gaze was distant, her breathing shallow. “You okay?” Julia asked softly, noting how pale Romy looked. Her skin was clammy, her hand trembling as she reached for the chair.

Romy waved it off. “It’s nothing. Just the shock.”

But her legs betrayed her the moment she tried to stand. They buckled, and Julia barely caught her in time, steadying her.

“Romy…” Julia’s voice was firm. “You’re not fine. Sit down.”

Romy’s face flushed with frustration. “I said I’m fine.” But as she tried to push away from the chair, her legs wobbled again. She felt faint. Her vision blurred, and panic rose in her chest.

Julia’s expression hardened. “That’s it. We’re going to the hospital,” she declared, her voice leaving no room for argument.

“I don’t need to go—” Romy began, but Julia wasn’t listening.

“You’re hot and pale, and you just nearly collapsed. Don’t argue.” Julia’s decision was final.

The room felt suffocating, the sterile air pressing down on her chest like a weight she couldn’t escape. Romy stared at the floor, her hands white-knuckling the edge of the bed, trying to ground herself. The low hum of medical equipment was the only sound breaking the heavy silence, punctuated by her uneven breathing. She felt like a stranger in her own body, like something was terribly wrong, and no matter how she tried to shake the feeling, it kept coming back, louder and more insistent.

The crash. The adrenaline. Her racing heart. She had pushed everything out of her mind, telling herself it was just the shock, the impact, the pressure of the weekend. But now, sitting here, the weight of it all was undeniable. The exhaustion in her bones, the aching in her chest, the strange emptiness that she couldn't explain.

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat when the door opened, the cool presence of the doctor cutting through her thoughts. He was young, his expression carefully neutral, but there was something in his eyes that made Romy tense. She could feel it in her gut before the words left his mouth.

“I’m afraid you've experienced a miscarriage," he said, his voice measured, clinical. "Given the circumstances, it’s important you rest. We’ll need to monitor you for a while."

Romy’s chest clenched. The word miscarriage echoed in her ears like a foreign language. She felt numb, a fog descending over her mind, as if she were watching someone else’s life unfold before her.

Miscarriage?

Her thoughts fractured, her pulse thudding in her ears. She tried to find the words to respond, but nothing came. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, as she tried to process the weight of what he’d just said. Her hand, which had been gripping the mattress so tightly, now felt loose and hollow.

A miscarriage.

How could that be? She wasn’t even aware she was pregnant. There had been no signs, no early morning sickness, no changes in her body. She hadn’t even been late. Romy tried to remember, tried to think back to when it could have happened, but it was all a blur. The races. The training. The constant pressure of expectations—her family’s expectations, the team's expectations—had consumed her. Everything had blurred together. Had she been too distracted to notice? Had she missed something?

Her breath hitched in her throat, and her stomach twisted, not just from the emotional shock but from the sharp, gnawing pain in her abdomen. She hadn’t realized how much it had hurt until now, the discomfort in her lower belly too familiar but not quite recognizable.

The doctor continued speaking, explaining the medical side of it—the physical effects, the bleeding, the cramps that were part of the body’s response. He mentioned how her body would need time to recover, how the stress of the crash could have contributed to what had happened. The words drifted past her, disjointed and muffled, like she was submerged underwater.

The dizziness came next, a wave of nausea that swept over her as the doctor listed off symptoms to watch out for. She couldn’t focus on his words. All she could focus on was the emptiness, the void that had opened inside her. It wasn’t just the loss of what could have been; it was the loss of something she didn’t even know existed. Her body felt like a traitor now, like it had been hiding something from her all along.

The doctor’s voice grew softer, and Romy realized he was waiting for a response. Her hand shook as she finally lifted it to her forehead, her skin clammy, the faintest tremor in her limbs.

"Is there... is there anything we can do?" she whispered, her voice breaking. She hated how small she sounded, how fragile. The question seemed so futile now, but she needed something, anything, to make sense of this, to make it stop.

The doctor hesitated, his gaze sympathetic. “We’ll monitor your physical recovery over the next few days. You’ll need rest, both physically and emotionally. There may be a follow-up procedure if the miscarriage is incomplete, but we’ll wait and see how your body responds.”

Romy nodded absently, though the words didn’t quite register. She had no idea what she was supposed to do now. She didn’t know how to process this, how to accept it.

As the doctor finally turned to leave, Romy was left alone with the overwhelming silence. Her chest felt tight, like the air itself was too thick to breathe. The emptiness inside her only seemed to grow. She had no name, no face, no memory to mourn. It was just a gaping hole, a loss she didn’t even know existed until it was gone.

And then the tears came—tears that she hadn’t expected, hadn’t allowed herself to feel until now. They came in quiet waves, hot against her skin, mixing with the shame, the confusion, the helplessness. She wanted to scream, to throw something, but all she could do was sit there, paralyzed by grief she couldn’t fully understand.

Romy wiped her eyes, trying to steady herself, but nothing felt real. Nothing felt like it belonged in her world anymore. The race, the team, the endless grind of competition—it all felt trivial in comparison to the gnawing emptiness in her chest.

Her body had failed her. And now, the weight of everything she had been carrying for months—the pressure of living up to a legacy, the expectations of everyone around her, the constant push to be better, faster, stronger—felt unbearable.

For the first time in years, Romy felt like she had nothing left to give.

The sterile hospital corridor was dimly lit, the buzzing of fluorescent lights filling the silence. Kyle paced, unable to stay still, his hands running through his hair as he muttered under his breath. Every second that passed felt like an eternity.

Julia stood by the door, arms crossed tightly over her chest. She was trying to keep her composure, but her eyes kept darting toward the hallway, scanning for any sign of Romy or an update. She had already argued with the doctor about not being able to get any information—after all, she’d spent almost as much time with Romy as her own family, but the rules were clear. She wasn’t blood, and that meant she was left in the dark.

“What’s happening, Julia? Why isn’t anyone telling me anything?” Kyle’s voice was strained, a raw edge to it that was rare for him. He shot a desperate look her way, his frustration palpable.

“I don’t know, Kyle,” Julia said softly, trying to keep her own panic at bay. “I told you, I don’t have the answers. They won’t tell me anything because I’m not family.”

Kyle ran a hand down his face, looking like a man on the edge of a breakdown. His breathing was shallow as he tried to process the situation. “This is insane! She’s my girlfriend. I’m supposed to know what’s going on with her.”

“You know how this works,” Julia replied, her voice tight. “We have to wait.”

“Man, calm down,” Ethan said, his voice sharp. “You’re gonna make things worse.”

Kyle shot him a quick, venomous glance, his eyes wild. “How am I supposed to calm down when I don’t know if she’s okay?”

Just then, a doctor emerged from one of the rooms. He was wearing a crisp white coat, his expression professional, but there was a subtle tension in his demeanor. Kyle froze in place, his heart pounding in his chest as he stepped forward.

“What’s going on? How is she?” Kyle asked, his voice strained.

The doctor held up a hand, signaling for him to calm down. “Please follow me,” he said quietly.

Kyle felt a rush of cold wash over him as he trailed behind the doctor, his every step heavy, as if the weight of the unknown was pressing down on him with each stride. They moved down a white corridor, its bright lights overhead casting long shadows, making the whole place feel more like a labyrinth than a hospital. Kyle’s mind raced with questions, each one more desperate than the last.

Once they reached a private consultation room, the doctor closed the door behind them, and Kyle’s anxiety spiked. The silence that followed felt suffocating. The doctor looked at him for a moment, a pause that stretched on far too long.

“She’s stable,” the doctor began, his voice steady but clipped. "Physically, she’s okay for now, though she’s still at risk for complications."

Kyle’s chest tightened. “What do you mean, still at risk? What happened?”

The doctor’s expression softened slightly, though it didn’t ease the heaviness in Kyle’s chest. “She suffered a miscarriage. A spontaneous one, likely triggered by the stress of the crash.”

Kyle felt the room spin. The words didn’t sink in at first. Miscarriage? Romy was pregnant? His mind fought to process the news, confusion clouding his thoughts.

“She—she didn’t know?” Kyle’s voice cracked, more a question to himself than to the doctor. He couldn’t believe it. How could this have happened without anyone realizing?

The doctor nodded solemnly. “It seems that way. There were no signs until the crash—no obvious symptoms. The stress of the impact, the sudden physical strain, could have triggered it. But... it’s complicated. There could have been underlying factors that we won’t fully know until we monitor her over the next few days.”

Kyle felt his heart drop into his stomach. His first thought was of Romy—how she must have felt, how this news would devastate her. He knew the weight she carried, the expectations, and now, this.

"Is she... is she okay?" Kyle asked again, his voice softer, the fear creeping into the pit of his stomach.

The doctor sighed, glancing down at his clipboard. “Physically, we’re keeping a close eye on her. She’s in pain, and there’s bleeding, but for now, it’s manageable. Emotionally, that’s another matter. She’s in shock, and there’s no telling how she’ll react to all of this once she fully processes it.”

Kyle closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady his breathing. He wanted to be strong for her. But how could he? How could anyone help with something so devastating, so silent, yet so profound?

“Can I see her?” Kyle asked, already knowing the answer.

The doctor hesitated, his eyes heavy with unspoken truths. “I’ll allow you a few minutes. But be prepared. She’s not herself right now. This isn’t something she can just bounce back from.”

Kyle nodded, his stomach a tight knot of dread and helplessness. He didn’t know how to prepare for this. He just knew he couldn’t leave her alone, not now, not after everything.

The doctor led him back to Romy’s room, his hand gently pushing the door open. Kyle stepped inside, his heart in his throat, trying to swallow down the panic that was threatening to rise.

Romy was sitting on the bed, her back straight but her eyes distant, staring at the blank wall across from her. Her face was pale, her eyes red-rimmed from the tears that had fallen earlier, though there was a strange emptiness to her gaze now. Her hands were folded in her lap, fingers barely moving.

She didn’t look up when he entered, and the silence that enveloped them was crushing. Kyle’s throat tightened, and he moved slowly toward her, his steps tentative as if he didn’t want to disturb the fragile stillness between them.

He stood at the edge of her bed, unsure of what to say, unsure of how to approach her. Romy hadn’t said a word since she’d been brought in. She was quieter than he’d ever seen her before, a far cry from the fiery determination she usually exuded.

“Kyle...” Her voice broke the silence, soft and hoarse, a fragile thread of sound. She didn’t meet his eyes, but the way she said his name made his heart ache. “I didn’t even know…”

Kyle knelt beside her, his hand hesitating before resting gently on hers. He didn’t know what to say. There were no words for something like this. But he couldn’t stand the distance between them, the invisible wall that seemed to have grown the moment the doctor spoke those dreaded words.

“I’m so sorry, Romy,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I had no idea.”

She shook her head, still staring down at her hands. “I didn’t either. I didn’t even know…”

The rest of the words died in her throat, and Kyle didn’t push. He just held her hand, offering the only comfort he could in that moment.

Her body was still, but the tremors were there, just beneath the surface. She was trying to hold herself together, but he could see it—the cracks in her walls. He didn’t know how to fix this, how to make it better. But he wasn’t going anywhere. Not now. Not after everything she had been through.

And for once, Kyle allowed himself to be the support. He stayed there, silently beside her, his presence the only thing he could offer her in the wake of the storm.

Kyle’s breaths were shaky, coming in uneven gasps, and Ethan could hear the tremor in his voice. He sat beside him, watching him try to steady himself, but it wasn’t working. Kyle was a mess, every bit of the bravado he usually wore stripped away, leaving nothing but a raw, exposed version of himself.

Ethan shifted, uncomfortable, unsure whether to say anything. The silence between them felt heavier than it had any right to be.

“Talk to me, man,” Ethan finally said, his voice low but firm, trying to break the tension. But when Kyle didn’t respond, Ethan could feel his insides twisting. He wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion, the grief, or the sheer overwhelming guilt weighing on his friend.

“I killed it,” Kyle whispered, the words so faint Ethan barely caught them.

The weight of that admission hit Ethan like a freight train. He blinked in disbelief, his mind scrambling to catch up with the gravity of Kyle’s words. He leaned back, almost physically recoiling, stunned by the crushing sincerity in Kyle’s voice.

"Oh wow… Okay, I clearly didn’t expect that. Rewind, please," Ethan managed to say, trying to lighten the mood, but his words fell flat in the oppressive atmosphere.

Kyle’s face twisted, eyes dark with pain. He looked at Ethan, but it wasn’t the same confident, sharp gaze Ethan was used to. It was hollow, clouded with guilt and grief, something Ethan had never seen from him before.

“We would have had a baby. And I killed it,” Kyle said again, the pain in his voice raw and unfiltered.

The words hit Ethan harder than he wanted to admit. His stomach dropped, and for a moment, everything seemed to freeze. It was as if the room around them faded away, leaving only the two of them—Kyle, broken, and Ethan, trying to comprehend the depth of what he was hearing.

“Romy is pregnant?” Ethan’s voice shot up in volume before he could stop it, and the sharpness of his surprise made Kyle flinch.

Kyle’s gaze burned into him with a fierceness Ethan wasn’t prepared for. The hurt in his eyes made Ethan shrink back, but Kyle didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he exhaled a long, shuddering breath, his hand rubbing over his face, like he was trying to rub away the guilt that seemed to cling to him.

“Not anymore,” Kyle said, his voice barely audible, cracking under the weight of his words. “Because I bumped into her. Because I didn’t see her.”

The confession came out like a whisper, a surrender to the guilt that had been consuming him. The air in the room felt suffocating, the burden of what Kyle had said hanging between them like an insurmountable wall. Ethan stared at him, trying to make sense of it all, but nothing felt right. It didn’t seem possible.

“Come on, bro. You know it’s not true. You said it yourself, she was in your blind spot. There’s nothing you could have done.”

Kyle shook his head violently, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. "Maybe if I hadn’t been so focused on getting out of the traffic… taking risks. Maybe if I’d been smarter, if I hadn’t made that stupid move… maybe she wouldn’t have been forced to make a reckless decision, and maybe, just maybe, our baby would still be alive."

The words cut into Ethan like a blade, and he instinctively put a hand on Kyle’s shoulder, as though he could stop the flood of self-loathing that was threatening to drown his friend.

“Dude,” Ethan said softly, trying to make eye contact, but Kyle wouldn’t look up. His eyes were trained on the floor, his chest rising and falling in sharp, jagged breaths. "It’s not your fault. You didn’t know. You didn’t want this to happen.”

Kyle’s face twisted in anguish. “I didn’t give us a chance. I wanted to win so badly, Ethan. I put everything else aside—her, us... I didn’t even realize she was pregnant until it was too late. If I had given her more time, if I hadn’t been so reckless, we could have taken responsibility together. We could’ve... we could’ve figured it out. But I didn’t. I ruined it. I ruined everything.”

Ethan could feel the weight of Kyle’s self-blame crashing over him. The guilt was palpable, an almost physical thing, and it made Ethan’s chest tighten with his own helplessness. He wanted to say something—anything—to make this better, but he knew there were no words for something like this.

“I’m sorry, Kyle,” Ethan said, his voice tight with emotion. There was nothing more he could offer, but the apology felt necessary, even if it didn’t feel like enough.

Kyle let out a ragged sigh, his face crumpling as tears welled up in his eyes. He swiped at them, but the tears kept coming, his shoulders shaking with the release of emotions he had been holding inside for far too long.

"I’ve always known I wanted to have kids with her. It’s always been so clear to me," Kyle’s voice trembled, thick with tears, as he let his head fall into his hands. "She’s the one I want to grow old with, to raise kids with... And now... I’m not even sure we’re still together after this."

Ethan’s heart ached as he watched his friend unravel before him, the weight of the situation threatening to swallow him whole. Kyle had always been so strong, so driven, so sure of himself. But this... this was different. This wasn’t something that could be fixed with grit or determination. This was something far deeper.

“You guys need time,” Ethan said softly, trying to offer whatever comfort he could. "This... this is too much to deal with all at once. But I know you, Kyle. You’ll get through this. You will. I don’t have any doubt about it.”

Kyle looked at him, his face twisted in pain, and his eyes raw. “But I’m scared. I’m scared I’ll lose her, Ethan. I can’t lose her. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

Ethan’s heart clenched as he saw the raw vulnerability in Kyle’s face. He had never seen him like this, and it terrified him. He couldn’t imagine the kind of pain Kyle was in.

“You won’t lose her, I promise. You won’t. You just need to give her time, and you need to give yourself time, too.” Ethan’s voice was steady now, reassuring. “You’re not alone in this. We’re all here for you, Kyle. We’re family. Remember that.”

Kyle let out a shaky breath, looking away for a moment, as if trying to make sense of everything swirling around him. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, and for a moment, Ethan thought he might break down again. But instead, Kyle let out a long, quiet breath, his eyes meeting Ethan’s again.

“I just wanted to be the kind of man she deserves,” Kyle whispered, his voice breaking. “And now I’m not even sure I’m that man anymore.”

Ethan leaned in, his hand resting on Kyle’s shoulder once more, the weight of the moment grounding him. “You are the man she deserves, Kyle. You just need to believe that yourself.”

Kyle nodded slowly, though doubt still lingered in his eyes. The road ahead was unclear, and the pain wasn’t something that could be erased overnight.

The sterile hum of the hospital room was deafening in the silence that hung between them. The nurses had come and gone, the rest of the team had left, and now it was just Kyle and Romy. The room felt smaller, the space between them heavier than it had ever been.

Romy sat on the bed, her hands folded tightly in her lap. The hospital gown was loose around her, but it didn’t offer any comfort. She could feel every bruise, every ache, and the emptiness in her chest that she hadn’t known how to fill. The loss was suffocating, an ever-present ache that made it hard to breathe.

When he came back to the hospital room, he stood by the window, his back to her, his hands gripping the edge of the sill like he could hold himself together if he just kept holding on. He hadn’t said much since the doctor’s visit, his guilt hanging around him like a thick fog. He hadn’t looked at her since—he couldn’t bring himself to.

For a while, they stayed like that, the silence stretching on, neither of them able to break it.

Finally, Romy spoke, her voice a fragile whisper that still carried the weight of everything they’d been through.

“I never wanted this,” she said quietly, the words tasting bitter even as she spoke them. “I never wanted to feel this... this empty. I didn’t want it to happen like this.”

Kyle’s back stiffened at her words, and he exhaled sharply, his voice tight when he spoke. “You think I wanted it? You think I wanted to hurt you?”

“No, I don’t think that, Kyle,” she responded quickly, though there was a tremor in her voice. “But you… you were the one who—” She broke off, closing her eyes, swallowing hard.

Kyle turned around, his face etched with pain, guilt so thick it was suffocating him. “I know. I know it’s my fault. I—” He stopped, choking on his words. “I didn’t see you. I didn’t mean to... I should’ve been better, I should’ve paid attention.”

“No.” Romy shook her head, her voice sharp, a defensive edge creeping in despite the grief that twisted inside her. “You don’t get to put it all on yourself. We’re both in this together. It’s not just you.”

Her words were like a slap, and they stung, though she didn’t mean them the way they came out. The pain, the anger, and the frustration were all tangled up in her, and it felt like it was spilling out of her all at once.

Kyle flinched as if her words physically hurt him. “I put us here, Romy. I’ve been so focused on winning that I didn’t see what was right in front of me. I didn’t take care of you. I didn’t protect us.”

Romy’s breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she thought she might choke on the emotion that flooded her chest. She didn’t want to be angry at him. She didn’t want to blame him. But she couldn’t help it—couldn’t keep it inside anymore.

“Why did you have to do that?” Her voice cracked as she spoke, and her hands clenched in frustration. “Why did you have to push it so hard? We were fine, Kyle. We were fine. And now... now everything’s falling apart.”

The words hung in the air like a heavy, suffocating fog. Kyle opened his mouth to speak but found no words. He had nothing left to say that could fix this.

“I didn’t know,” Romy continued, her voice quieter now, the anger giving way to raw, aching sadness. “I didn’t know I was pregnant. I had no idea... until it was too late. And now I have to carry that, Kyle. I’m hurting, but I’m also... angry. Angry at you. Angry at myself. Angry that everything got out of control so fast.”

Kyle took a step toward her, his hand reaching out in a desperate, instinctive movement. He stopped himself before he could touch her, though, his fingers hovering in the air, as if unsure whether she would accept the gesture.

“I never wanted you to go through this, Romy,” Kyle whispered, the guilt heavy in his words. “I’d do anything to take it back. I swear.”

Tears welled up in Romy’s eyes as she looked up at him. “I don’t want to blame you, but it’s hard not to, Kyle. It’s so hard not to.”

Kyle’s eyes softened, the hurt in his gaze unmistakable. “I know. I get it. You have every right to be angry with me. I ruined everything.”

Romy blinked, fighting back her tears. “I don’t even know who I am anymore. I don’t know who we are after this. Everything’s changed. It feels like I’ve lost something I’ll never get back.”

The words were a confession, a revelation she hadn’t even known she was ready to admit until now. The loss wasn’t just the baby. It was the loss of their future, of the life they could have had. The loss of herself in a way, too.

Kyle finally sat beside her on the bed, his hand carefully brushing against hers. He didn’t say anything for a long time, just let the silence sit between them. But his presence, his quiet understanding, was all she needed in that moment.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” Kyle murmured, his voice small. “I don’t know if I ever can. But I’ll spend the rest of my life trying.”

Romy squeezed his hand, her own voice barely a whisper as she said, “I don’t know if I can forgive you, Kyle... not yet.”

The words sliced through him, but they were the truth, and he accepted them. For now, that was enough.

Romy shifted slightly, her head resting against his shoulder, and he let her stay there. They sat in the silence together, the weight of everything heavy between them, knowing they had so much to work through. But in this moment, it was enough just to be there for each other.

They couldn’t fix the past, but maybe, just maybe, they could begin to rebuild what was left, one piece at a time.

Author's note :

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

She swallowed hard, her chest tightening as the weight of it all settled on her. What if I mess it up? The thought clung to her like a shadow, darker than the heavy storm clouds gathering in the distance. Her heart raced, but it wasn't the thrill of racing — it was fear. Fear of failure. Fear of disappointing the thousands of people who were here, hoping to witness another victory in the long line of triumphs that had been expected of her since the moment she had first gotten behind the wheel.

“Romy, you’re going to crush it,” Kyle's voice interrupted her thoughts. He leaned casually against the doorframe, a crooked smile on his lips. His presence was a comfort, and yet it made the knot in her stomach tighten even more.

“Thanks, Kyle,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. She turned her gaze toward him, but the moment she saw his face, the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. She knew that look. He was trying to be positive, trying to give her the pep talk she needed. But the truth was, Kyle wasn’t supposed to be here. He should’ve been out there on the grid, racing alongside her. Instead, he was standing in the doorway, sidelined for the weekend after failing a vision test.

Failed a vision test, Romy thought bitterly, her stomach turning. Of all the reasons to be kept out of the race. She knew Kyle had always been meticulous, always aware of every detail. The idea that something so small could derail his entire season felt unjust. She wanted to be happy for him, to rally behind him the way he had always done for her, but the gnawing sense of guilt was impossible to ignore. I get to race while he’s stuck here with nothing but his thoughts.

It was a thought that twisted her insides. How was it fair that she was living her dream, racing in front of the crowd she had grown up with, while Kyle, who had always supported her, was left standing in the background? Her family was here, the fans were here — the weight of expectation pressing down on her. What if I don’t win? She could already hear the murmurs of disappointment that would follow. Her last name, Schumacher, carried with it a legacy that both thrilled and terrified her. Germans had a deep, almost religious reverence for their racing legends, and she had inherited that mantle. Every time she stepped onto the track, she carried not just her own ambitions, but the hopes of an entire nation.

The crowd outside seemed to be growing louder, their chants and cheers reaching a fever pitch. She could hear the hum of anticipation, the sound of flags being waved in unison. The energy was electric — but it felt suffocating. Everyone’s watching. Everyone expects me to win.

Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel as she pictured herself out there on the track. The rumble of the engine beneath her, the blur of the competitors around her, the sheer force of it all. It should have been exhilarating. But now, with the eyes of the world on her, it felt like a trap. What if I let them down?

Kyle’s voice broke through again, softer this time. “Romy, you’re one of the best out there, and you know it.” He crossed the room, sitting beside her on the edge of the small couch, the comforting weight of his presence beside her. “And even if you don’t win, they’re still going to cheer for you like crazy.”

She shook her head, the anxiety eating at her. “It’s not that simple, Kyle. You don’t understand. It’s my home crowd. My family is here, watching me. If I don’t win...”

“First of all, you’re not going to mess it up,” he interrupted, his tone firm, trying to pull her from the spiraling thoughts. “You’ve already proven you’re the real deal. No one’s going to think any less of you if it doesn’t go perfectly. The fans, your family... they’re proud of you no matter what.”

Romy glanced at him, really looked at him for the first time in the conversation. She noticed the faint weariness in his eyes, the faintest tremor in his hand as he reached for her shoulder, giving it a gentle nudge.

“How are you holding up?” she asked softly, her voice quieter now. “With not racing?”

Kyle hesitated before answering. “It sucks,” he admitted finally, his voice low. “I failed a vision test because of some stupid thing with my peripheral vision. Can’t risk it, not when I’m hurtling around the track at 200 mph. But hey, better safe than sorry, right?” His attempt at a joke fell flat, and he let out a small laugh, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

Romy nodded, understanding. “Still, it must be hard.”

“It is,” he said, his voice quieter now. “But that’s life in this sport. Things change in the blink of an eye. I’ll be back for Spa. Until then, I get to play cheerleader for you.” He grinned, trying to lift her spirits.

She smiled despite herself, the warmth of his words sinking in. “You’d make a terrible cheerleader.”

“I know,” he replied, his grin widening. “But I’ll yell the loudest.”

Despite the lightness of his words, the weight of Romy’s nerves didn’t dissipate. Outside, the sea of German flags waved, their black, red, and gold colors bright against the gray skies. The roar of the crowd was deafening now, a constant reminder of what was at stake. As she sat there, feeling the tension rise within her, she could almost feel the eyes of the entire nation upon her, waiting, hoping, praying for her to succeed.

And as much as she wanted to push it all away, there was no escaping the truth — the pressure, the legacy, the expectations — it was all part of the game. And right now, that game was more terrifying than thrilling.

Hours before the race, the garage was alive with a symphony of activity. The sound of tire changers spinning in the background, the sharp clicks of tools, and the hum of the engine all combined into a cacophony that was both comforting and maddening. It was the rhythm of a race weekend, a soundtrack Romy had learned to thrive in. But today, despite the familiar buzz, the adrenaline of anticipation, and the technical precision of her crew, something felt off.

Romy sat in the cockpit of her car, her gloved hands wrapped around the steering wheel. The harnesses felt tighter than usual, as if they were pulling her into the seat more than they should. The carbon-fiber body of the car surrounded her like a cage, both protective and confining. The engineers worked feverishly around her, making final adjustments to the car's settings, double-checking tire pressures, and recalibrating the brake balance. She could hear the soft hum of data being transmitted back and forth between the engineers and her race engineer, all of them meticulously fine-tuning every aspect of the car.

Her race engineer's voice came through her earpiece, calm and steady, like a lifeline. “Romy, everything looks good. Just stick to the plan, and you’ll be fine.”

She nodded in the helmet, trying to calm her nerves, though her stomach was tight with anticipation. “Copy,” she responded, her voice steady despite the storm of thoughts swirling inside her head. Stick to the plan. She’d heard those words a thousand times before, but today they felt like a fragile thread, holding her steady in a world full of swirling uncertainties.

Outside, she caught a glimpse of Kyle on the pit wall. His arms were crossed, and his face was hard to read, but there was a small glint of something — encouragement? Support? He gave her a thumbs-up and mouthed the words, "You’ve got this." It was all she needed to pull herself together, to remind herself that she wasn’t in this alone.

As the final minutes ticked away, the nerves in Romy’s chest seemed to tighten further. The engine started, and the low, powerful hum vibrated through her, a familiar sound she had once found calming. But now, with the weight of the crowd’s expectations pressing down on her, every rev seemed to echo in her skull. The crowd was already roaring, their energy filling the air and seeping into the car. She could almost hear their collective heartbeat, like a wave crashing against her.

The lights above the grid flashed, and her focus sharpened. The countdown began.

Five.

Her foot hovered over the clutch, the engine idle beneath her, her hands steady on the wheel.

Four.

Her breath slowed, and she visualized the race ahead: the tight turns, the hairpin curves, the long straights where she could stretch the car's power. She was ready, despite the adrenaline flooding her system.

Three.

No turning back now, she thought, eyes fixed forward. The start was everything.

Two.

She could hear her own heartbeat in her ears, drowned out only by the rising sound of the crowd. Her grip on the wheel tightened.

One.

The lights went out, and with a sharp, explosive release of the clutch, Romy shot off the line, the car responding to her every command. The tires screamed for grip on the asphalt, and she immediately held her position. Her mind flashed through a rapid sequence of maneuvers, calculating the best way to defend her place while keeping her pace steady.

As she raced into the first corner, the car responded smoothly to the input of her foot on the throttle. The tight chicane required precision, and Romy threaded the needle, barely feeling the understeer as she managed to squeeze the car through without losing speed. The crowd's roar surged like a tidal wave in her ears, the vibration from their cheers coursing through the car’s chassis and into her spine. The energy of the home crowd wrapped itself around her, pushing her onward.

Lap 1 was a blur of speed and concentration. Romy felt the tires gradually warming up as she completed each corner, the rear of the car momentarily skittering in the more aggressive turns as she applied throttle too early. But she controlled it, her instincts guiding her as much as the car’s telemetry.

She glanced at the rearview mirror as she came out of Turn 4, and saw a flash of blue and white — Ethan, the driver in second place, was just a few car lengths behind. She knew Ethan well; he was aggressive, fast, and relentless. Every lap, she could feel him close the gap, applying pressure in every braking zone, sticking to her rear wing like a shadow. Her engineer’s voice crackled through her earpiece, “Ethan is getting closer, but you’ve got this. Keep managing the tires.”

Romy nodded slightly, her foot steady on the throttle as she rounded the tight hairpin at Turn 7, keeping the car as smooth as possible. The tires were crucial now. She could feel them beginning to lose a little of their initial grip — the balance between grip and speed was always delicate.

Conserve the tires, she reminded herself, as she ran the brake balance slightly rearward, allowing the car to rotate more freely through the corners. The tire wear would be key for the next few laps. She’d need to be meticulous, to ride that fine line between speed and preservation. Ethan wasn’t backing off. She could see his front wing in the mirror as they approached the long back straight.

The wind rushed in through the cockpit as she hit full throttle down the straight. She felt the G-forces pushing her back into the seat, the engine roaring beneath her as she reached for the next gear. Stay calm. Stay smooth. Let the car do the work.

But Ethan was there, closing in fast. He was aggressive in braking zones, diving deep into corners, forcing her to defend more than she liked. The pressure mounted as he repeatedly attempted to slip past her on the inside. At Turn 11, he got a better exit than her and was right on her tail heading into the final chicane.

Romy held her line, her mind calculating the next move. He’ll try to overtake here, she thought. She braked slightly earlier than usual, letting him get close but not enough to take the corner before her. As he dove for the inside, she quickly adjusted her line to block him, keeping the racing line as she powered out of the corner. Her car surged ahead, and for the next few laps, the battle continued in this rhythm — defend, attack, maintain.

Every time Romy managed to edge ahead, the crowd’s roar surged in her chest, fueling her to keep pushing. But every time Ethan seemed to draw closer, she had to fight the creeping anxiety that gripped her. She couldn’t afford a mistake. Not now. Not in front of these fans.

Her tires were holding on, but just barely. She adjusted her braking points, trying to be gentler with the pedal, mindful of the wear. The car felt more connected now, the rhythm of the race settling into her bones.

As the laps ticked down, Romy focused on nothing but the track ahead. Every corner, every braking point was a battle she fought silently in the cockpit. The sound of the crowd faded, the vibrations of the car’s power took over her senses, and all that mattered was maintaining that slender edge over Ethan. She could hear her engineer’s voice occasionally through the static, reminding her to focus on tire management, but Romy was already several steps ahead.

This wasn’t just about beating Ethan. This was about proving to herself that she could rise above the pressure, rise above the legacy, and handle the weight of every eye watching. Every corner, every lap — it was hers to win. Or lose.

Romy’s heart hammered in her chest, every beat resonating through her body as she raced down the final stretch of the Nürburgring. The track seemed to stretch endlessly before her, the roar of the engine filling her ears, drowning out the world around her. The finish line loomed ahead, the checkered flag waving in the distance. For a moment, everything slowed, the wind against her helmet, the sharp buzz of the car’s engine, and her own breath all melding into one.

She crossed the line, and the world around her exploded into noise. The cheers of the crowd, the frantic calls over the radio, the sharp crackle of the tires as they still spun at full speed. She didn’t dare take a breath, her eyes locked on the leaderboard, waiting, hoping for confirmation.

The radio crackled, cutting through the chaos, and her engineer’s voice came through, clear and jubilant. “P1, Romy! You’ve done it! P1!”

Her vision blurred with sudden, hot tears. A laugh broke free from her chest, broken and shaky, as she tightened her grip on the steering wheel so hard that her knuckles turned white. Did I… did I really win?

She almost couldn’t believe it. She’d done it. She had just won the German Grand Prix. Her Grand Prix. The one that carried the weight of her legacy, of her family, of every single fan who had come here today, hoping, waiting for this moment. Her breath was ragged as she spoke, her voice trembling. “Did we… did we really win?”

“You did it, Romy,” the engineer said, his voice filled with emotion. “You’re the winner of the German Grand Prix.”

The words seemed to echo in her skull, impossible to grasp, too big for her to truly comprehend. The emotion surged like a tidal wave, crashing over her all at once. As she coasted into parc fermé, the reality of the victory hit her full force. The roar of the crowd swelled, drowning out the hum of the engine. The German flags flew, their black, red, and gold colors rippling through the air like flames.

When she finally parked and cut the engine, the adrenaline hit her all at once, leaving her shaky and breathless. She barely had time to unbuckle her harness before she scrambled out of the car, the world spinning around her in dizzying waves. She almost fell out of the cockpit in her rush, but the ground felt solid under her feet, the energy of the crowd beneath her like a pulse, vibrating through her.

Her eyes immediately searched for them. And there they were — her parents, standing just beyond the barrier, their faces beaming with pride. Without thinking, Romy ran toward them, the tears that had welled up finally spilling free as she collapsed into their arms. She felt her father’s strong embrace, felt her mother’s grip like a lifeline, as if they were trying to keep her anchored to this moment, to this victory that had cost her so much. Her father whispered words of pride into her ear, but they came out muffled, as if everything in the world had softened around her. She couldn’t fully process what he was saying; the flood of emotion made it all feel distant, like it was happening to someone else.

For the first time that day, she let herself cry — truly cry — without trying to suppress it. The tears that had been building up for months, for years, burst forth, and Romy finally allowed herself to feel the weight of the moment. The immense relief, the pride, the joy — it was all too much to hold inside. Her family was here, the fans were here, and she had finally done it. She had made them proud.

But as she tried to catch her breath, to steady her emotions, something broke the euphoria. The warmth of her family, the sea of cheering faces, was pierced by a cold, sharp presence. Ethan.

She saw him across the pit, standing with his team, arms crossed, his posture stiff, his face unreadable. Her stomach twisted in an instant, the weight of his gaze pressing on her like a physical force. She tried to ignore him, tried to focus on the crowd, on her parents, on the wave of euphoria that had just consumed her. But it was impossible to block him out. She watched as he stormed toward her, his stride angry, his frustration clear in every step.

When he reached her, his voice cut through the moment like a blade, harsh and accusing. “Did you get anything from the FIA to start celebrating?” he snapped, his tone sharp with frustration.

The words felt like a slap, and Romy flinched, the sudden shift in the mood almost too much to bear. The joy that had felt so pure, so overwhelming, now felt tainted, the shine of the victory dulled by the venom in Ethan’s voice. She forced herself to stand tall, refusing to let his anger chip away at the monumental achievement she had just pulled off. This is my moment, she thought fiercely. I earned this.

Her voice came out steady, though her heart was still pounding in her chest. “I mean… I don’t need the photo finish to know that I won, Ethan.” She didn’t flinch, didn’t break eye contact with him, though the sting of his words remained.

“Really?” Ethan’s tone was even colder now, his eyes narrowing. “Because Maserati is pretty confident the win’s theirs.”

Romy felt a flash of heat in her chest, the insult burning. She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Kyle’s voice intervened, sharp and firm. “Ethan…” Kyle said, his voice carrying an edge of warning. “Her front wing was ahead. I saw it.”

Ethan turned his gaze to Kyle, and Romy could see the frustration flash in his eyes. "With all due respect, Kyle, I don’t trust your eyesight today,” Ethan snapped, his words dripping with condescension.

Romy’s jaw tightened, and the anger bubbled up within her. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. But before she could respond, the protocol officer appeared at the edge of the scene, stepping in to usher them away from the tense confrontation. “Please, let’s move to the cool room,” the officer said, his voice firm, and without another word, he guided them away from the brewing argument.

As they moved toward the cool room, the bitter taste of Ethan’s words lingered. Why now? Why today? But Romy kept walking, her head held high. She had just won the German Grand Prix. Nothing — not even Ethan’s anger — could take that from her.

Inside the cool room, Romy stood apart, trying to steady her breath. The adrenaline still surged through her veins, but the elation of winning had already begun to feel distant, replaced by the weight of the moment. Her fingers brushed the German flag draped around her shoulders, and in the midst of it all, she caught it just before it slipped to the floor. She couldn't seem to shake the gnawing unease in her chest.

Ethan’s glare was like a laser beam, his eyes fixed on the screen replaying the finish. He was trying to pretend like he wasn’t seething, but the sharp lines of his jaw, the tension in his posture — they said everything. And no matter how much she tried to focus on anything else, his frustration wrapped itself around her like an invisible cord. It was impossible to ignore.

Martin, ever the diplomat, tried to break the suffocating silence, his voice light and casual. “That was still a beautiful fight,” he said, attempting to defuse the tension with a smile.

Romy managed a small smile, appreciating his gesture. But before she could speak, Ethan’s voice cut through the room, bitter and raw. “Would’ve been more beautiful if I was on the top step,” he muttered, his words slicing through the air loud enough for Romy to hear.

Her grip on the flag tightened involuntarily, the fabric twisting between her fingers, the sensation grounding her in a way that helped keep her anger from boiling over. Really? she thought, her mind racing. This is how it’s going to go?

She wanted to snap back, to tell him that he had no right to ruin this moment for her. But instead, she stayed quiet, her breath shaky. His anger isn’t really about me, she realized. It’s not about the race or the win. It’s about him. About all the things he’s been bottling up since Canada, the weight of the comparisons to his dad, the bad press. But that didn’t make it any easier to hear. She had just won the German Grand Prix, and the cloud of Ethan’s bitterness was already threatening to eclipse it.

When it was time for the podium, the roar of the crowd outside reverberated in her chest like a drumbeat. She stepped out, her feet moving almost automatically, and the overwhelming wave of cheers crashed over her like a wave. I did it. I really did it, she thought, the realization settling in.

As the German anthem began to play, she sang along softly, her voice trembling as the tears streamed down her face. She couldn't help it. The weight of the moment, the pride of standing on that podium in front of her home crowd, was too much. Her victory felt complete, and for the briefest of moments, the world seemed perfect.

But then, her eyes flicked over to Ethan.

His face was stone-cold. He held his trophy at arm’s length as though it disgusted him, as though the whole thing was beneath him. He didn’t even glance at her during the champagne celebration, his eyes fixed on some point far beyond the festivities. When the celebration ended, he was the first to storm off, leaving a trail of anger in his wake.

Romy’s stomach twisted with frustration. This isn’t how it was supposed to be, she thought. The joy, the relief, the achievement — it all felt tainted by Ethan’s refusal to let anyone, especially her, enjoy this moment.

“Ethan! You forgot your trophy!” she called, her voice ringing down the hallway, catching up with him.

He turned to face her, the coldness in his eyes cutting through her like an icicle. “I don’t care. I don’t want it,” he muttered, the bitterness in his words enough to make her chest tighten.

Romy’s patience snapped, the frustration she’d been holding back bubbling to the surface. She took a step closer, her voice low but edged with anger. “Now you’re just being petty.”

“Petty?” Ethan’s voice rose, the sharpness of it making her flinch slightly. “Do you know how important this win was for me? After everything—Canada, the bad press, the comparisons to my dad—do you even care?”

His words hit her like a punch to the stomach, a sickening knot forming in her chest. Of course, I care, she thought, but the anger was already rising to meet him. You’re not the only one who’s been through hell.

“Do I care?” she repeated, her voice trembling with emotion, but stronger now, laced with the heat of her own frustration. “Of course, I care! But don’t you dare act like you’re the only one who’s had a rough season. Do you have any idea how much pressure I was under to win today? How much I’ve fought for this moment?”

Ethan’s sneer was almost too much to bear. “Must be nice to be the overprotected little princess of Audi,” he spat, his words dripping with venom.

The insult stung, sharp and deep, and for a moment, Romy felt a surge of anger — not just at his words, but at the unfairness of it all. You think I’m overprotected? You think this was easy for me? Her vision blurred with the intensity of it, but she stood her ground, unwilling to back down.

Her voice came out low, but it was filled with the force of everything she’d been holding back. “You hate being compared to your dad, and yet you think it’s fair to reduce me to my name? You don’t know half of what I’ve been through!”

At the words, Ethan’s expression faltered, but it quickly twisted into something darker. “At least your dad shows up for your races,” he snapped. “Mine—”

“Maybe if you weren’t such an ass, he’d be proud of you!” The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them, and once they were said, she didn’t regret them. The anger poured from her like a river breaking through a dam.

There was a long, suffocating silence that followed, thick with the weight of her words. The air in the hallway felt electric, charged with the intensity of their confrontation. Romy’s breath was shallow, her pulse thudding in her ears.

Maybe she shouldn’t have said it. Maybe she shouldn’t have pushed so hard. But the pain in Ethan’s eyes — the resentment he’d been holding onto — was too much. He had wanted to drag her down with him, and for once, she wasn’t going to let him.

“Maybe if people are giving up on you, it’s because you’re the problem,” she added, her voice quieter now, but no less sharp.

Ethan’s face fell, his anger momentarily slipping into something darker, something more hurt. He opened his mouth to respond, but Romy didn’t wait for him. She pushed past him, her shoulder colliding with his as she moved toward the exit.

She barely registered Kyle’s voice calling her name, soft and steady as always, trying to offer comfort, trying to mediate. But she didn’t want comfort. Not right now. She needed space, needed to escape the suffocating tension that Ethan had created. She needed to be alone.

Romy had desperately needed this. The weeks before their trip had been filled with too much responsibility, too much worry. She had given all her energy to Julia—being the strong, supportive friend she needed—while balancing her own guilt over Kyle and the growing tension she felt in her relationship. Her emotions were a tangled mess, and the weight of it all had begun to wear on her. The Maldives, with its perfect stillness, was just what she needed.

Kyle, on the other hand, had been equally consumed by his own pressures. The season had weighed heavily on him—his responsibilities as an F1 driver, the ever-present pressure to perform, and the personal toll it had taken on him as he watched Ethan and Julia's relationship fall apart. There hadn’t been a single moment where he’d been able to step back and just be himself, just enjoy life without the constant scrutiny of the paddock.

Now, finally, here they were—far from the chaos of their usual lives. They weren’t just taking a vacation; they were escaping to a place where they could forget the demands of the world around them and focus on each other. There were no interviews to attend, no media circus to navigate, no responsibilities pulling at Kyle. For the first time in ages, he could just relax, without the weight of expectations hanging over him.

“I can’t believe we’re here,” Kyle said as they walked toward their private villa, his excitement palpable. His eyes sparkled, a genuine, carefree joy radiating from him. He pulled Romy into his side, pressing a quick kiss to her temple as they strolled down the beach. “This is exactly what we needed. No worries, just us.”

Romy looked at him, her heart swelling with affection. She could see the tension starting to leave his shoulders, the weight of the past few months lifting with every step they took on the soft sand. For once, he wasn’t the Formula 1 driver—the public figure who had to be constantly on alert. In this moment, he was just Kyle—the man she loved, standing beside her in paradise.

“I couldn’t have imagined anything better,” she said, her voice light and airy as she squeezed his hand, the simple gesture grounding her in the present moment.

They arrived at the villa, a sleek and modern space that felt like it belonged in a dream. Romy took a deep breath, savoring the view of the turquoise ocean stretching endlessly before them, the gentle breeze tousling her hair. The air felt different here—lighter, freer, as if the troubles of the world couldn’t reach them in this oasis.

Kyle dropped his bag and moved toward the pool, glancing back at her with a grin. “How about we make the most of this and jump in?”

Romy laughed, her worries slipping away with each second she spent here with him. She walked over to the edge of the pool, taking in the view of the beach and the endless horizon. It felt surreal to be here, away from everything—the paddock, the chaos, the heavy emotional burdens. For the first time in a long time, it was just them, existing in their little bubble of tranquility.

“You know,” Kyle said, breaking her reverie, “I really think we deserve this. After everything. All the stress. All the pressure we’ve been under.” He stepped toward her, a playful glint in his eyes. “It’s about time we take a moment to just… be happy. Together.”

Romy felt her chest tighten with gratitude. “You’re right,” she said softly, her gaze meeting his. “This is exactly what we both need. A chance to breathe. A chance to just be us. No expectations. No distractions.”

Kyle smiled, pulling her into a warm embrace, his fingers gently brushing her hair. The tenderness in his touch reminded her of why she’d chosen him—why she’d always chosen him. He was her calm in the storm, her safe place when everything around them felt like it was spinning out of control.

Together, they stood in that peaceful moment, embracing the stillness of the world around them and the quiet joy they found in just being together. Here, in the Maldives, they didn’t have to worry about anything. They were just two people in love, finally allowed to relax, to laugh, to rediscover each other without the weight of the world on their shoulders.

For Romy, this trip wasn’t just a vacation—it was a reset, a chance to find her way back to herself. It was a chance to reconnect with Kyle, to rebuild the intimacy they’d both longed for, without distractions. The days ahead promised nothing but sunshine, freedom, and the possibility of new beginnings.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Romy allowed herself to fully embrace the happiness she shared with Kyle. In the Maldives, surrounded by paradise, she had permission to live in the moment—and maybe, just maybe, to let her heart open up to whatever came next.

The day passed in a blur of tropical adventures, each moment more exhilarating than the last. Romy and Kyle had spent the morning snorkeling, diving into the crystal-clear waters with nothing but the sound of their own breath and the gentle splashes of waves around them. The coral reefs stretched beneath them, vibrant and alive with colorful fish darting between rocks, and the occasional sea turtle gliding by. The sunlight broke through the water’s surface in shimmering beams, illuminating everything in its golden glow.

Kyle swam ahead with his usual confidence, his movements smooth and sure as he pointed out a massive stingray gliding effortlessly beneath them. “Look at that!” he called, his voice filled with excitement. “That’s a beauty!”

Romy floated a little behind, eyes wide, her body still getting used to the unfamiliarity of the open water. Her heart raced every time she ventured just a little farther from the safety of the shallow sandbar. The deep blue water felt both inviting and intimidating, and her nerves kicked in each time she glanced at the swirling, endless expanse.

“Come on, babe!” Kyle waved her over with a teasing grin, his voice full of playful encouragement. “The reef is amazing! You don’t want to miss this!”

Romy hesitated, staring at the deep, dark water ahead. She could see the schools of fish darting around the rocks below, the lure of adventure pulling at her, but her feet felt heavy, as though the ocean was asking her to dive into the unknown. She bit her lip and shifted uncomfortably in the shallow water.

Kyle noticed, swimming back to her in lazy strokes, his brows furrowing slightly with concern. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft but still playful. “You’re not scared, are you?”

Romy gave a small, embarrassed laugh, shaking her head. “I don’t know... I think I’m just a little nervous,” she admitted, offering him a sheepish smile. “I’ve never really been out this far before.”

Kyle raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a teasing smile. “You’re a little scared of a fish? Babe, you’ve faced much scarier things than this.” He swam closer, his hand outstretched, his thumb brushing gently over her palm. “But it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Romy glanced at his hand for a moment before taking it, her nerves softening as she felt his reassuring touch. His presence grounded her, and she realized that, with him by her side, the world didn’t seem so overwhelming. Kyle gently pulled her through the water, guiding her step by step, until they reached the deeper part of the reef.

“This is it,” Kyle said, his voice low with excitement as he held her close. “Look around, babe. This is the real deal.”

Romy looked down at the reef, her eyes widening as she took in the beauty beneath them—the corals in every shade of orange, pink, and purple, the tiny fish weaving between the plants like they were part of a delicate dance. The water around them was an intoxicating blue, the world above their heads faded away, and all that was left was the peaceful silence beneath the surface, broken only by their breathing and the occasional splash.

For a moment, Romy forgot her worries entirely. She didn’t feel the nervousness she had earlier; there was no more hesitation. She felt light, as though the ocean itself was cradling her, and Kyle’s steady presence beside her made her feel safe.

“This is nice,” she murmured, her voice softer now, a smile tugging at her lips. “I think I’m starting to get it.”

Kyle laughed, his voice warm and easy. “Told you it’s amazing. You were acting all nervous, but look at you now. You’re practically a pro.”

Romy rolled her eyes playfully, giving him a light nudge with her shoulder. “You’re such a show-off,” she teased, her voice light with affection. “But seriously, this is incredible. You were right.”

Kyle grinned, pulling her a little closer, his arms wrapping protectively around her waist. “I told you you’d love it. It’s the best way to see the world. Just us, the water, and no distractions.”

They floated together, the gentle current carrying them along, and Romy felt her heart settle into a peaceful rhythm. In that moment, she wasn’t worried about Julia or Kyle’s career or the future. She was just here, in this serene paradise, with the man she loved, feeling the warmth of the sun on her skin and the calm of the ocean around them.

Kyle’s hand slipped to her back, his fingers tracing slow patterns across her skin. “I love that I get to share this with you,” he murmured, his voice tender.

Romy looked up at him, her heart swelling with affection. “Me too,” she whispered, her fingers brushing the edge of his jaw. “This is exactly what we needed.”

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering there for just a second longer than usual. “Exactly,” he agreed. “Just you, me, and the ocean. No stress. No responsibilities. Just us.”

And in that moment, surrounded by the endless blue and the love between them, everything felt right.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky with shades of pink and orange, Romy and Kyle walked side by side along the beach, their feet sinking slightly into the soft sand. The gentle sound of the waves crashing against the shore seemed to lull everything into a peaceful rhythm. The air was warm, but not stifling, carrying with it the sweet scent of saltwater and flowers.

Romy looked at Kyle, her heart lifting in her chest. There was something so simple, so grounding about walking with him like this, no distractions, just the two of them in the quiet of the moment.

Kyle’s hand found hers, his fingers curling around hers in a familiar, comforting way. “This is perfect,” he murmured, his voice low, almost to himself.

Romy smiled, feeling the same way. Everything about this moment was exactly what she needed. They had escaped to a place where nothing mattered except them—no work, no family dramas, no distractions. Just the beauty of the Maldives, the tranquility of the ocean, and the warmth of the man beside her.

When they reached the spot where Kyle had arranged their dinner, Romy’s breath caught in her throat. A table had been set up right by the water, candles flickering softly, casting a warm, romantic glow over everything. The sound of a distant guitar drifted toward them, adding a touch of elegance to the already magical setting.

“You went all out,” Romy said, her voice filled with awe as she glanced around, unable to take it all in. The table was surrounded by palm trees, their fronds swaying gently in the breeze. It felt like something out of a dream.

Kyle grinned, his eyes sparkling with pride. “Anything for my girl,” he replied, pulling out her chair and making sure she was comfortable before taking his own seat.

Romy sat back, taking in the beauty of the moment. The ocean stretched endlessly in front of them, the colors of the sky melting into one another, creating a perfect canvas. The quiet hum of the guitar played in the background, as though it was meant just for them.

They dug into the meal, savoring each bite. But it wasn’t just the food that made the evening special—it was the way Kyle looked at her, the way their conversation flowed effortlessly. The easy banter, the deep talks, and everything in between. It felt like they were the only two people on Earth, and the rest of the world could wait.

“You know,” Kyle said, his voice suddenly softening as he reached across the table, taking her hand in his, “I’m just so happy we’re here.”

Romy looked at him, her heart swelling at the sincerity in his eyes. The warmth of his touch, the gentleness of his voice—it made her feel safe, loved, and incredibly lucky.

“I know,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s been a crazy few weeks, hasn’t it? With everything with Julia and… just life. But now, with you? Everything just feels right.”

Kyle squeezed her hand gently, his thumb brushing the back of her palm. “The world’s been insane lately,” he agreed. “ I’ve never felt more at peace than I do right now, sitting here with you.”

Romy’s heart skipped a beat. She felt the same way. The chaos of the last few months had worn her down, but in this moment, with the ocean breeze and the soft glow of the candles around them, everything else melted away. All that mattered was what was right in front of her.

She squeezed his hand back, her voice soft and full of feeling. “You make me feel so loved, Kyle. I don’t think I’ve ever truly understood what it meant to have someone by your side the way you are. You’re everything I needed and more.”

Kyle’s gaze softened, and he brushed a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering against her skin. “You deserve all of it, Romy. You’ve been through so much. You’re stronger than you know, but you deserve happiness. You deserve someone who will take care of you the way you take care of everyone else.”

Romy blinked back tears, feeling overwhelmed by the weight of his words. She had never felt so seen, so cherished, and it made her realize just how much she had been longing for this kind of love—quiet, steady, and unwavering.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “Thank you for being here with me, for making me feel like I matter.”

Kyle’s smile was gentle but full of love. “You matter more than you know,” he said softly. “And I’m so glad I get to be the one to make you feel that way.”

They sat there for a moment, just holding each other’s gaze, the quiet of the beach wrapping around them like a cocoon. The sound of the guitar playing in the distance, the soft crash of the waves, and the warmth of Kyle’s hand in hers made Romy feel like the luckiest woman in the world.

For once, everything was as it should be. The future seemed bright, full of possibilities, and Romy knew that no matter what came next, she wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

Later that night, after dinner, the soft glow of the moon reflected on the waves as they walked hand-in-hand down to the beach. The sound of the ocean’s gentle rhythm filled the air, a perfect soundtrack to the quiet beauty of the island. They found a secluded spot, far from the resort lights, and laid out a blanket on the soft, cool sand.

Romy nestled beside Kyle, their bodies close but not yet touching. The stars above them were a breathtaking canvas, each one twinkling as if it were a secret just for them. Kyle was the first to break the silence, his voice calm, almost dreamlike.

“You know,” he began, his words drifting through the air like the cool breeze, “I’ve always wanted to have kids someday. A little family, you know? It’s funny to think about, but I can picture it.”

Romy’s heart skipped a beat at his words. For a moment, she felt her breath catch in her chest. The idea of a family with him, a future beyond the present, was something she hadn’t allowed herself to truly think about before. She turned her head to look at him, but his eyes were fixed on the stars, unaware of the weight of his words.

“Yeah?” she asked, her voice quiet but soft with curiosity.

Kyle smiled, his gaze never leaving the sky. “Yeah. Not right now, but… someday. It just feels like something I want, you know?”

Romy swallowed, her chest tightening. “I get it,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. The idea of having a future with Kyle, building something together, made her feel both excited and vulnerable. But she knew this moment was one of those rare, perfect ones where everything felt possible.

Kyle finally turned his head to meet her eyes, his face soft and sincere. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his touch gentle and lingering. “I’ve never really said this, but I know you’re it for me, Romy. I want everything with you. Whatever that looks like.”

Romy closed her eyes, feeling the weight of his words deep in her chest. She leaned in, her lips brushing his in a soft, tender kiss. It started slow, almost tentative, but quickly grew deeper as their bodies instinctively pressed closer together. The kiss ignited something between them, and Romy’s pulse raced as she pulled him closer, feeling his warmth against her.

Kyle’s hands roamed to her waist, slipping beneath the fabric of her sundress. His touch was warm and sure, sending sparks of heat through her body. His fingers trailed up her sides, grazing the bare skin of her ribs, and she felt her breath hitch in her throat. His lips left hers to trail along her neck, his kisses light but hungry, and Romy couldn’t help but let out a soft gasp.

“Kyle…” she murmured, her body instinctively arching toward him.

He smiled against her skin, the heat of his lips spreading to every part of her. “What is it, baby?” he asked, his voice rougher now, full of desire.

Romy met his gaze, her body burning with the need to be closer. “Don’t stop,” she whispered, her hands sliding to the back of his neck, pulling him down for another kiss.

The kiss deepened, both of them breathing harder now, as Kyle’s hand slid to her thigh, his fingers brushing the soft skin there. Romy’s entire body seemed to react to his touch, a fire igniting that she hadn’t known she needed. She let out a breathy moan, feeling herself respond to the warmth and intensity of his body against hers.

Kyle pulled away slightly, his forehead resting against hers, his breath mingling with hers as they both struggled to catch their breath. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice thick with desire but laced with tenderness.

Romy’s heart raced, but there was no hesitation in her voice. “Yes.”

With that, Kyle leaned in again, his hands moving with intent, undressing her slowly, giving her time to process, to want it. She followed his lead, her hands moving to undo his shirt, eager to feel him against her. Every touch was a spark, every kiss a promise. They kissed, touched, and whispered in a dance of passion under the moonlit sky, with the waves crashing around them, as if the world had slowed down just for them.

When they finally found their rhythm, the world outside disappeared. There was only the soft rush of the ocean and the connection between them, stronger than either had imagined. The night stretched on, an endless, perfect moment between two people who were learning just how much they needed each other.

Afterward, lying side by side, the cool breeze kissed their heated skin. Romy rested her head on Kyle’s chest, her heart still racing from the intensity of the moment. She felt whole, utterly connected, and she realized, somewhere deep inside her, that this moment—this night—was the beginning of something more than she’d ever expected.

Kyle’s fingers brushed through her hair as he kissed the top of her head. “I never want this to end,” he whispered.

Romy smiled, feeling the weight of his words settle deep in her heart. “Me neither,” she whispered back. And for the first time in a long while, she felt completely at peace.