La Isla Bonita 🦋

My dad insisted I should go. According to him, I needed to “make some memories before university started.” Zoé—my stepsister for the past four years and, for roughly three years and eleven months, the biggest headache of my life—agreed wholeheartedly. Between the two of them, they delivered such a long speech about living once-in-a-lifetime experiences that I eventually gave in just to make them stop.

That’s how I ended up in a small town in Spain with Zoé and six other friends, sharing a house for two weeks.

The first few days were exactly what you’d expect from a graduation trip.

We barely slept, we ate far too much, we spent money we absolutely shouldn’t have spent and we got lost constantly.

On the morning of the fourth day, I woke up before everyone else. Not because I’m naturally an early riser, but because someone had apparently decided the church bells needed to ring as if they were announcing the end of the world.

I tried to go back to sleep, but I failed. So I pulled on a hoodie, grabbed my phone, and went for a walk.

The streets were still almost empty. The cafés were only just lifting their shutters, and the morning sun had only begun to slip between the old buildings. For a moment, I thought maybe waking up early wasn’t such a terrible idea after all.

Then I heard a scream. It wasn’t especially loud, it was the kind of scream someone tries to swallow before it ever leaves their throat.

I looked up just in time to see a young man yank an elderly woman’s handbag from her hands and sprint straight toward me.

For one full second, I couldn’t move.

There it was. Definitive proof that I was not a brave person. Because my first thought wasn’t, I have to help her.

It was: Oh my God… what do I do now?

I froze, my heart pounding so hard it hurt, my breath trapped somewhere in my chest. The thief was closing the distance fast, and just as he was about to run past me, my body finally reacted.

I stuck my foot out ever so slightly. He caught it and the next thing I knew, he was face-first on the pavement.

“THIEF!” I shouted before I even realized I’d opened my mouth.

The handful of people nearby immediately turned toward us. The moment they saw the hooded man sprawled across the ground, chaos erupted.

“Beat the shit out of him!”

“Son of a bitch!”

“What kind of lowlife steals from an old lady?”

“Fucker! Somebody call the police!”

People started closing in around us, and the thief quickly decided an old handbag wasn’t worth the beating that was coming. Without another thought, he scrambled to his feet, he tossed the handbag aside and ran as fast as he could.

My heart was still lodged somewhere in my throat as I picked it up and hurried over to the elderly woman, who was only a few steps away.

“Here you go. I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

She accepted the bag with both hands and, before I had any time to react, pulled me into a hug. I froze for a second before awkwardly hugging her back.

“Thank you, dear. It’s rare to find kindness like yours these days.” She stepped back and smiled at me, revealing a grin that was missing a couple of teeth.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. Anyone would’ve done the same.” I shrugged, trying to brush it off, even though I knew perfectly well that most people wouldn’t have risked it.

“You know that’s not true. People have become far too indifferent to everyone else’s problems. That’s exactly why we’re doomed as a society.”

“I like to think there’s still hope for us.” I laughed quietly.

“Would you like to have some tea? It might calm your nerves. My house is just a block away.” She pointed down the street.

“Oh, no, that’s really not necessary. I don’t want to impose.”

“You wouldn’t be. Think of it as my humble way of thanking you, please.”

I hesitated for a couple of seconds before finally agreeing.

It was only a cup of tea.

What could possibly go wrong?

Twenty minutes later, I found myself sitting inside a tiny house that looked like it had been lifted straight out of a fantasy novel.

Bookshelves lined every wall, plants seemed to grow from every imaginable corner. There were porcelain cat figurines, strange paintings, a crystal ball sitting on a side table, and incense slowly burning in the background. It looked like a set from Harry Potter.

When I first walked in, I almost laughed. It was every witch stereotype rolled into one room.

The old woman placed a cup of tea in front of me before sitting across from me with one of her own. I took my first sip immediately. A rich, sweet flavor spread across my tongue.

“This is delicious,” I said before taking another sip.

“It is my own recipe,” she replied with a pleased smile. “A blend of several different herbs.”

“You’ll have to give me the recipe.”

“Recipes lose their charm once they’re written down.” She chuckled softly as she stirred her tea with the tiniest little spoon I’d ever seen.

“That sounds like an excuse not to share it.”

“It is.” We both laughed.

For a while, we talked about everything and nothing. The town, the trip, how hard it was to accept that in just a few months I’d be starting university and pretending to be a functional adult.

She barely spoke. Most of the time, she simply listened, asking the occasional question that somehow always encouraged me to keep talking. I don’t even remember when I started telling her things I normally wouldn’t tell anyone.

I told her about my dad, about Zoé, about how, despite not sharing a single drop of blood, she’d been annoying me for so many years that I honestly couldn’t imagine life without her anymore.

I admitted that sometimes it felt like everyone else already knew exactly what they wanted to do with their lives while I was still making everything up as I went. That I was terrified of making the wrong choice. And even more terrified of realizing I’d never actually known what I wanted in the first place.

She listened without interrupting.

When I finally finished, she carefully set her teacup down on the table with almost ceremonial precision.

“How curious.”

“What is?” I frowned.

“That someone so young has already learned to settle.”

“I don’t think I’m settling.” I blinked a couple of times.

“No?”

I shook my head.

“I’m just trying to be realistic.”

“People have a habit of calling fear ‘realism.’” She smiled with endless patience.

I looked back at her and opened my mouth to answer. But nothing came out. Because, much as I hated to admit it, part of me felt she’d hit the mark.

She picked up her teacup again.

“Tell me something, child. If you knew with absolute certainty that anything you wished for could come true… what would you ask for?”

I laughed. The question sounded completely ridiculous.

“A ridiculous amount of money.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Excuse me?” I frowned, unable to hide an amused smile.

“You answered far too quickly.”

I laughed again.

“Fine. Then I’d wish to graduate without ever pulling another all-nighter.”

“No, you’re still joking.”

“What if I just don’t want to answer?”

“That’s an answer too.”

“I don’t know…” I sighed, staring out the window. “I guess… I’d like to stop feeling like I always have to worry about the future.”

“Now we’re finally talking about wishes.” She nodded slowly, like that had been the answer she’d been expecting all along.

A brief silence settled between us. Then she leaned slightly closer.

“There are people who can move objects without touching them. Others can see things that haven’t happened yet. Some are born with the gift of healing and a very, very small few…” She paused. “…are given the gift of opening paths.”

I couldn’t help smiling.

“So this is the part where you tell me you’re a witch?”

She burst into laughter.

“No, dear. Witches are far more interesting than the movies make them seem.”

“With all due respect…” I shook my head, smiling. “I don’t believe in any of that.”

“I know.”

“Then you understand why I’m having a hard time taking this conversation seriously.”

“I don’t need you to believe.” She said it so calmly that it caught me off guard. She stood up and slowly walked over to a small shelf where bundles of herbs hung drying upside down.

“Faith has never been a requirement for something to exist.” She picked up a small sprig, examined it for a moment, then carefully placed it back where it belonged. “Just answer me one more question.”

“What?”

“Have you ever noticed how some people’s wishes always seem to find a way?”

“I guess they’re lucky.” I shrugged.

“No.” She turned to face me. “They simply learned how to wish with their whole heart.”

“That sounds like something you’d find on Pinterest.” A laugh escaped through my nose.

“And yet…” She smiled. “…it’s true.”

“I’m sorry. I just can’t believe in magic.” I shook my head.

She returned to her chair, but this time the amusement had disappeared from her face. She looked… strangely solemn.

“I’m not going to ask you to believe me.” She held my gaze. “But I am going to give you something anyway.”

“I’m sorry… what?”

“From this day forward, every wish born from the deepest part of your heart will find a way to become reality.”

“Just like that?” I laughed quietly.

“No.” She smiled. “It is never easy, only possible.”

I was about to reply when a faint tingling spread through my hands. I looked down.

“That’s… strange.” The sensation crawled up my arms, then my neck. The room seemed to tilt ever so slightly.

“I think…” I swallowed. “…maybe the tea didn’t agree with me.”

The old woman didn’t answer. She simply watched me with an unsettling calm.

I tried to stand, but my legs refused to cooperate.

The room began spinning.

“What… what was in that tea?”

She smiled. Not the smile of a villain, the peaceful smile of someone who had been waiting a very long time for that exact moment. Then, almost in a whisper, she said,

“Be careful what you learn to wish for. Because the universe has never been able to tell the difference between a dream and words spoken from the heart.”

The last thing I saw was the sunlight pouring through the window beginning to blur.

Then—

“Y/N!”

My eyes flew open. Zoé was leaning over me, shaking my shoulders.

“There you are! I thought you were dead.”

I blinked several times. I was lying in my bed at the rental house, still wearing the same hoodie I’d put on before going for my walk.

“What…?”

“What happened to you?” Zoé asked. “You’ve been gone for hours.”

I looked around in confusion. The house, the old woman, the tea. It all felt like a dream.

“I think…” I rubbed my temple, wincing. “…I got drugged.”

“What?” Zoé’s eyes widened. “You tried ayahuasca without me?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I stared at her in disbelief. “I mean someone drugged me.”

“What? How?” She grabbed my face with both hands, inspecting me like she’d somehow find the answer written on my forehead.

“An old woman invited me in for tea. I think there was something in it. She started talking about all this weird magical stuff, and then… I don’t know. I blacked out. Next thing I remember, I woke up here.”

Zoé stared at me for a few long seconds. Then she burst into the loudest laugh imaginable.

I rolled my eyes and threw a pillow straight at her face.

“I’m sorry,” she managed between fits of laughter, “but that’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard. If you wanted to get high at ten in the morning, you could’ve just told me.”

“I’m serious.” I sighed, suddenly too exhausted to keep arguing. “Honestly, I don’t even care anymore. I just want this stupid trip to end today and go home.”

(…)

The trip ended that very same day.

A few hours after my conversation with Zoé, a gas leak forced everyone staying at the house to evacuate. My dad decided to take it as a sign, so we packed our bags and went home.

At first, I kept telling myself what happened on that trip had been nothing more than a coincidence.

Gas leaks happened, plans changed and elderly women who claimed they could grant magical gifts probably existed too—they were just a little unhinged.

The problem was that the coincidences kept happening.

One afternoon, my dad came home looking worried. The company he worked for had been talking about layoffs for weeks. I watched him pace around the dinner table all evening, scribbling numbers onto a napkin while pretending everything was fine.

That night, just before falling asleep, I found myself thinking with all my heart, I hope they tell him he gets to keep his job tomorrow.

The next day, not only was he not laid off—He got promoted.

A few weeks later, I received an email from my university. I’d been placed on the waiting list for the program I wanted, and the odds of someone giving up their spot were practically nonexistent.

Still, I closed my eyes for a moment.

Please… let me get in.

Three days later, they called. One of the admitted students had withdrawn at the last minute and the spot was mine.

The last coincidence was the one that truly frightened me. Zoé had been waiting for months to hear back about a scholarship that would allow her to study abroad for a semester. She had worked unbelievably hard for it.

The day the results were supposed to be released, I saw how nervous she was. Without even realizing it, I wished with everything I had that she’d get it.

She didn’t.

But a week later, they called. One of the selected students had declined the offer and the scholarship was now hers.

That was the moment I stopped thinking I was simply getting lucky.

Because it wasn’t luck anymore. Probability could fail once, maybe twice, if you were feeling particularly optimistic. But four times… Four started to feel less like coincidence and more like a warning.

From that day on, I became much more careful about the things I said. Especially the ones I said with my whole heart. Because even though I still refused to believe in magic, I could no longer ignore the fact that the universe seemed to be listening.

Everything went completely off the rails when I decided to tell the one person I thought might actually understand me. Or at the very least, validate my insanity.

There was only one reason I trusted her with something this ridiculous.

She was even crazier than I was.

“You do realize the odds of any of this actually being real are basically zero, right?” Zoé asked, raising one eyebrow.

“I know.” I let out a long sigh. “Ever since I met that old woman, I feel like I’ve been losing my mind.”

“There’s only one way to find out if this is actually real…” She paused dramatically. “…Wish for Jacob Elordi and Kendall Jenner to break up tomorrow.”

I stared at her in disbelief.

“You know you’re an idiot, right?”

“Oh, come on.” She snorted. “It’s harmless. It’s an innocent wish.”

I simply rubbed my forehead. I was way too young to be dealing with this much stress.

Just then, the deafening roar of our neighbor’s car made me jump.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Zoé groaned. “Why the hell doesn’t he get that piece of junk fixed already?”

Suddenly, her eyes lit up.

“I’ve got it!” she said, grinning. “Wish for that stupid car to finally stop making that awful noise.”

I actually considered it.

“Well…” I shrugged. “That does seem pretty reasonable.”

I closed my eyes. I reached for that familiar wave of irritation that hit me every single time I heard our neighbor start his car.

I hope that stupid thing finally breaks down.

The noise stopped immediately.

I opened my eyes, Zoé was already staring at me.

Neither of us said a word.

We just waited.

Zoé had barely opened her mouth to celebrate when the engine roared back to life, even louder than before.

“Oh, come on.”

We looked at each other, then burst out laughing.

“Well,” I said between laughs, “that was a spectacular failure.”

Three hours later, I was sprawled across the couch, eating potato chips while mindlessly watching some TV show.

I was about to shove another handful into my mouth when a massive explosion shook the entire house, making that several of our windows shattered instantly.

I shot upright, coughing violently after nearly choking in surprise.

I ran outside.

What I found stopped me cold.

Our neighbor’s car was completely engulfed in flames.

A second later, my dad, my stepmother, and Zoé rushed out behind me. They immediately ran to help.

I couldn’t move.

I just stood there, staring at the fire as the crushing weight of guilt settled onto my shoulders.

(…)

“It’s not your fault.” Zoé sat at the foot of my bed with her arms crossed.

“Zoé, I wished for his car to stop working… and then it exploded.” I grabbed a pillow and buried my face in it.

“Okay, maybe you did wish for it,” she admitted, “but that thing was already a ticking time bomb. Look on the bright side—no one got hurt, and his insurance will probably buy him a brand-new car. If anything, you did him a favor.”

I pulled the pillow away and narrowed my eyes at her. I honestly couldn’t believe someone could be this ridiculous.

“This isn’t funny, Zoé.”

“It isn’t funny to me either,” she protested. “I’m just trying to get you to understand that you don’t have anything to feel guilty about. You have a gift. You just need to learn how to control it.”

“Zoé, this isn’t a gift.” I threw my hands into the air in frustration. “It’s a curse. Don’t you get that?”

“No, it isn’t. You made that wish out of anger, that’s why it happened the way it did. Every other wish you’ve made came from a place of love, and those turned out just fine.” She tapped her temple with two fingers, as if the answer were painfully obvious.

“All I know is that I never want to wish for anything ever again.” Each word came out more desperate than the last. “I’m going back to that crazy old woman’s house, and I’m making her take this stupid thing back.”

“Oh, don’t be such a buzzkill. You literally just found out you have magical wish powers, and you don’t even want to have a little fun with them? At least help me first, pleeease?” Zoé clasped her hands together dramatically, giving me the saddest puppy-dog eyes imaginable.

“No.” The answer came instantly.

The TV in my room was on, muted in the background while we argued.

“Come on,” she insisted, shoving my shoulder over and over. “Just one more wish. We need to know if it actually works.”

“I already said no.” I could feel irritation crawling up my throat like some ugly little monster.

“You’re no fun.” Her attention drifted toward the television.

A Formula 1 team commercial happened to be playing. Suddenly, she looked back at me with the biggest grin.

“I know!” she said. “Wish for Kimi Antonelli to fall in love with me.” She giggled and threw her arms around me.

“Zoé, I’m not doing that. Stop being so annoying.”

“Pleeeease,” she sang directly into my ear.

“No, Zoé! Let go of me.”

She only hugged me tighter.

“Pleeeeease.” This time her voice was even higher.

I rolled my eyes and tried to breathe through the frustration that was rapidly turning into genuine anger.

“Pweaseeeee.” Now she was dragging the word out in an absurdly deep voice.

Something inside me finally snapped.

“WOULD YOU LEAVE ME ALONE?” I shoved her off me harder than I’d intended. Still burning with irritation, I looked straight at her and spat,

“I wish Kimi Antonelli would fall in love with me.” The words came out before I could stop them. Then, fueled by pure frustration, I added, “No—better yet, I wish he’d go absolutely crazy over me. So crazy it borders on obsession.”

Zoé stared at me with wide eyes, her mouth slowly fell open. For a second, I thought she was going to laugh. Instead, her expression turned unexpectedly serious.

She gave my arm a smack, then she quietly walked out of my room.

I closed my eyes and collapsed backward onto the bed.

I loved Zoé, more than almost anyone. But when she set her mind to it, she could be the single most insufferable person on the planet.

For a brief moment, I thought about what I’d just wished for. A cold shiver ran down my spine, but I forced myself to calm down.

That wish was impossible.

Every other wish had involved something that was, somehow, already within the realm of possibility.

A promotion.

A scholarship.

Things that could realistically happen.

This… This involved a Formula 1 driver who had absolutely no idea I existed. There was no universe in which that wish could possibly come true, so I buried the thought as deep as I could, got up from the bed, and went looking for Zoé to apologize for my little outburst.

Zoé accepted my apology in less than ten minutes. One of the many perks of having a stepsister whose ability to hold a grudge lasted about as long as an Instagram Story.

After that, neither of us brought up Kimi Antonelli again.

Or the old woman.

Or the wishes.

It became an unspoken agreement. One I was more than happy to honor. Because if I’d learned anything over the past few months, it was that the universe had a very peculiar way of listening and I had absolutely no interest in testing it any further.

Classes started a week later.

University turned out to be exactly what everyone had promised. More assignments than any human being should reasonably be expected to complete. Professors convinced their class was the only one that mattered.

Coffee, an alarming amount of coffee.

During those first few weeks, I made myself a promise.

I wouldn’t wish for anything. Not out loud, not silently, not even those tiny, unconscious I hope… thoughts that sneak into your head before you realize they’re there.

It was ridiculous, I knew that. But after what had happened to my neighbor’s car, I’d decided I’d rather be paranoid than ever feel that kind of guilt again.

The promise lasted exactly nineteen days.

I broke it the night before my statistics midterm. I’d spent hours trying to understand a topic that simply refused to stick. Frustrated, I closed my laptop and rested my forehead against my desk.

Please… I just need to understand this.

Five minutes later, one of my classmates texted to ask if I wanted to join a study call. As it turned out, one of the guys in the group had an older brother who taught statistics.

In less than an hour, I understood what I’d been struggling with for the past three days.

I didn’t make another wish for almost a month. Until one professor decided to move the deadline for our final project forward.

That night, I barely slept.

Please, I just need one more day.

The next morning, the entire campus lost power because of an electrical failure. Classes were canceled and the deadline was pushed back by forty-eight hours.

After that, I stopped pretending everything was a coincidence. I still told myself there had to be a logical explanation for every single one of those events, it was just becoming increasingly difficult to find one.

As the weeks went by, I realized something the old woman had never told me.

The gift didn’t work just because I said the words.

I had to mean them.

With my whole heart.

And, strangely enough, the more desperate I was the easier it seemed for the universe to find a way to answer.

So I started policing my thoughts almost as carefully as my words.

It was exhausting.

Final exams came and went, I survived them. Not gracefully, but I survived.

And when summer break finally arrived, I felt fairly certain that if I had to open another textbook before September I’d probably set it on fire.

I needed something completely different. Something that had nothing to do with grades, deadlines, or professors.

That’s how I ended up signing up for a five-day volunteer program run by a foundation that worked with children in foster care. I thought it would be a quiet few days, a small reset before real life started again.

The first day was mostly orientation. We were given our volunteer T-shirts, shown where we’d be sleeping, and walked through everything we’d be doing over the last three days, when the actual activities with the kids would take place.

The second day was all logistics. We set up tents, organized activity areas, and inflated what felt like a completely unreasonable number of football balls. Somewhere in the middle of the chaos, I noticed another group assembling a small racing circuit.

That struck me as oddly specific.

Later that afternoon, we played a few icebreaker games to get to know the other volunteers. That’s when I met Lola and Lucca, both of them were ridiculously friendly, and we clicked almost immediately. Naturally, we decided to stick together.

“You know, a bunch of celebrities are coming,” Lola said between bites of her ice cream.

“Really?” Lucca asked. “Who?”

“No idea, the organizers refused to tell us. They didn’t want people signing up just to meet famous people.”

“Fair enough,” I said. “People can be incredibly weird.”

We finished our ice cream and wandered to another part of the camp to cool off. The heat was so unbearable, that drinking water alone wasn’t enough.

The following morning, they woke us before sunrise. Everything had to be perfect before the children—and the event sponsors—arrived.

The kids were the first to show up, most of them were incredibly sweet.

Each volunteer was assigned a small group to look after throughout the event. I showed mine where they’d be sleeping before taking them on a tour of the campgrounds. We explored the activities, wandered through the recreation areas, and eventually ended up in the cafeteria for a snack.

A few hours later, we were told to gather at the main field. Apparently, it was time to meet some of the distinguished guests who had graciously decided to bless us with their presence.

The sarcasm was intentional.

With my group trailing behind me, I walked toward one of the main sports fields. Television cameras were already set up, journalists milled around a small stage that had been prepared near the entrance.

“Who do you think is coming?” one of the kids asked excitedly.

“If it’s a politician, I’m going home,” I muttered.

“You’re impossible,” Lola laughed.

“I’m realistic.” I replied with a half smile.

The crowd grew louder as more volunteers stretched onto their tiptoes, trying to see who had just arrived. I did the exact opposite, I kept my attention firmly on making sure none of my kids wandered off.

Then I heard someone scream.

“KIMI!”

“Oh my God,” Lola said casually beside me. “It’s George Russell and Kimi Antonelli, I had no idea Formula 1 drivers were coming.”

Every muscle in my body locked.

No.

No, no, no.

Slowly, very slowly… I lifted my head.

And there he was.

Kimi Antonelli had just walked into the venue alongside a few event organizers.

He was wearing a white T-shirt, a black baseball cap, and the kind of relaxed smile that seemed to appear naturally whenever he greeted another child running toward him.

My heart dropped.

Not because he was Kimi Antonelli.

Okay… Maybe a little because he was Kimi Antonelli.

But mostly because my brain decided that now was the perfect time to dig up a memory I’d spent months trying to bury.

I wish Kimi Antonelli would fall in love with me.

A chill raced down my spine.

No, it was impossible.

I took a slow breath.

Months had passed. Thousands of people met Kimi every year, the fact that we happened to be in the same place meant absolutely nothing.

It was just a coincidence.

“Y/N!” One of the boys tugged on my T-shirt. “Can we go say hi to them?”

I looked at him.

Then at Kimi.

Then back at the child.

“…Wouldn’t you rather meet someone else?”

All five kids shook their heads in perfect synchronization.

Perfect.

Fantastic.

Wonderful.

The universe had a deeply questionable sense of humor.

“Alright…” I forced a smile. “Let’s go.”

As we walked toward him, I repeated the same sentence over and over in my head.

Nothing’s going to happen.

Nothing is going to happen.

He’s just a guy.

An absurdly famous guy. But still, just a guy.

When we reached him, Kimi was crouched down, listening attentively as a little girl—she couldn’t have been older than seven—showed him a drawing she’d made. He waited until she’d finished speaking, thanked her like she’d just handed him a masterpiece hanging in a museum.

Then he looked up.

Our eyes met.

Only for a second, maybe two. But it was enough. His expression shifted ever so slightly, like he’d forgotten whatever he’d been about to say.

“Hi…” he said at last.

He wasn’t talking to the children. He was looking directly at me.

My stomach sank, but I smiled out of pure politeness.

“Hi.” That was it. That was all it needed to be.

The kids immediately bombarded him with questions.

“How fast do you really drive?”

“What’s your favorite track?”

“Have you ever crashed?”

While they distracted him, I quietly took one step backward, then another and another. My brilliant plan was to disappear as discreetly as possible, and it was working beautifully right up until I heard a voice behind me.

“You’re leaving without even telling me your name?”

I closed my eyes for a second.

Of course, naturally. Because running away was never going to be that easy.

I turned around slowly.

Kimi had left the kids with another driver who had just arrived, and now he was standing in front of me with a small, almost shy smile.

“Y/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.” He held out his hand. “I’m Kimi.”

I looked at him for a moment.

“Yeah…” I couldn’t help smiling. “I’d already figured that part out.”

He laughed. A real laugh, not the polite, media-trained smile people wear at public events. That only made me even more nervous.

The rest of the afternoon was surprisingly fun. The kids had me laughing nonstop, and we spent hours running from one activity to the next, trying out all the attractions that had been set up for the event.

For a little while, I was so relaxed that I actually stopped thinking about Kimi and about the absurd little game the universe seemed determined to play with my life.

That lasted right up until lunchtime.

I was standing in line with the kids at the buffet when I suddenly became aware of someone’s eyes on me.

It was almost physical.

The side of my face felt warm beneath the weight of a stare that refused to move. I already knew who it was, which was exactly why I didn’t want to look.

Curiosity won anyway.

Kimi was standing on the other side of the dining hall. He caught my eyes and offered me a small smile. I returned it politely before immediately turning my attention back to the kids.

We collected our lunches and hurried over to one of the empty tables.

The entire time, I silently begged the universe not to let Kimi come over again. He didn’t, which, at this point, I figured probably counted as another wish.

A couple of hours later, the guest speakers and sponsors began leaving. Just before Kimi walked out, I noticed him scanning the crowd. Something deep inside me insisted he was looking for me.

Maybe it was just paranoia, maybe it wasn’t. Either way I ended up hiding behind one of the activity tents until he was gone.

That evening, we made desserts with the kids before finally calling it a night.

I fell asleep hoping the following day would be considerably less eventful.

(…)

The next morning, we woke up to news that had every single kid buzzing with excitement. That day, there was going to be a go-kart tournament.

Nothing professional, of course. The track that had been built on the second day had been donated by Formula 1, along with several specially adapted karts so the children could race alongside volunteers and the event’s special guests.

The rules were simple. Each child got to choose a teammate and hope they weren’t a complete disaster behind the wheel.

“Y/N, you’re racing with me,” Leo declared.

He was nine years old and had spent the entire previous day insisting that one day he’d become a Formula 1 driver.

“Are you sure?” I asked. “I have an impeccable track record of crashing shopping carts.”

“I don’t care.” He shook his head confidently. “You’re lucky.”

If only you knew…

We spent the entire morning showing the kids how the karts worked, helping them fasten their helmets, and making sure none of them decided to treat the track like it was Mario Kart.

Everything was going surprisingly well, until I heard a familiar voice behind me.

“So you’re the famous volunteer who’s terrible at driving.”

I closed my eyes, took a breath, counted to three, then turned around.

“Famous?”

“That’s what Leo told me.” Kimi shrugged.

I immediately looked at the little traitor. He had the audacity to nod.

“I also told him you almost ran over a shopping cart.”

“Leo.”

“Yeah?”

“You and I are going to have a very serious conversation later.”

The kid burst out laughing and sprinted away.

Kimi did the same.

Well… He didn’t sprint away, but he did laugh.

“I didn’t know you had such a terrible reputation behind the wheel.”

“I don’t.”

“No?”

“I just… don’t happen to be especially good at driving.”

“That sounds exactly like something someone who’s terrible at driving would say.”

I looked at him with exaggerated offense.

“And what would you know?”

“I’m a racing driver.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, right.” I nodded thoughtfully. “I almost forgot that tiny detail.”

He let out a quiet laugh.

“What?” I planted my hands on my hips.

“Nothing.”

“No, go on.” I tilted my chin up slightly. “Say it.”

“I was just thinking…” A crooked smile spread across his face. “…it’s pretty brave of you to agree to race against me.”

“Who said I’m racing against you?” I laughed.

“I did.” He said it with such confidence that it only made me laugh harder.

“What if I don’t want to?”

“You will.”

“You’re that confident?”

“No.” He smiled sideways. “I’m just that sure I’m going to win.”

I stared at him, offended.

“You’re unbelievably annoying.”

“I’m realistic.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“Well…” I folded my arms. “Now I definitely want to race.”

“Perfect.”

“But when you lose, I don’t want to hear any excuses.”

He laughed.

“That’s exactly what I was going to tell you.”

A few minutes later, we pulled on our helmets. I was completely convinced this was a terrible idea, I barely knew how to drive a go-kart. Never mind racing someone who literally made a living behind the wheel.

As we waited for the start, I glanced sideways. Kimi gave me a thumbs-up from the kart beside mine.

“I promise I won’t beat you by too much.”

“How thoughtful.”

“I wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of the kids.”

I smiled so sweetly it was honestly a little frightening.

I hope I beat him. The thought slipped into my mind before I could stop it.

No.

No, no, no.

I desperately tried to think of literally anything else, but It was too late. The flag dropped and Kimi shot forward exactly as I’d expected.

I… Well, I focused on not crashing before the first corner.

The kids screamed like we were competing for a world championship.

For the first two laps, Kimi held an almost insulting lead. As he passed me, he actually had the nerve to wave.

Idiot.

Then, halfway through a tight corner, one of the organizers’ karts stalled sideways across the track. Nothing serious, just a minor mechanical issue, but Kimi and everyone behind him had to slam on the brakes.

I was several meters back, far enough away to squeeze through the only gap that had been left open.

When we exited the final corner, I was leading. My eyes went wide.

No. No, that couldn’t be happening.

I could hear the kids chanting my name.

I glanced in the mirror. Kimi had already overtaken almost everyone again, he was closing the gap frighteningly fast.

The finish line was getting closer.

“Come on…” I muttered under my breath. “Come on, come on…”

I crossed the line barely a fraction of a second ahead of him. For one brief moment there was only silence, then every single child exploded into cheers.

Leo practically tackled me the second I climbed out of the kart.

“I TOLD YOU! YOU’RE LUCKY!”

I barely heard him. I was still staring at the track, thinking about only one thing.

It had happened again.

Kimi walked over, pulled off his helmet, and shook his head with a laugh.

“I’m refusing to accept that I just lost to someone who drives like my grandmother.”

I couldn’t help smiling.

“So you admit you lost?”

He sighed dramatically.

“I’ll admit it…” He pointed suspiciously at my kart. “…after someone checks whether that thing was powered by magic.”

My smile froze for the briefest fraction of a second. Fortunately he was already laughing too hard to notice.

The next day’s activity was all about water. The moment I read the schedule, I became convinced someone had a personal vendetta against me.

Not because I couldn’t swim, I could. The problem was that the pool looked like someone had filled it directly from the Arctic Ocean.

The kids, of course, strongly disagreed. They ran around in their life jackets, practically vibrating with excitement, while I tried to convince them that observing was also a perfectly respectable way to participate.

“Y/N! Get in!”

“The water’s amazing!”

“Come on!”

“Just five minutes!”

“Not even if you paid me.” I shook my head.

“You’re so dramatic.” Leo looked at me with genuine disappointment.

“I’m not dramatic.” I dipped the tip of one toe into the water and immediately pulled it back out. “It’s freezing.”

“Coward.”

The kids immediately started chanting my name, determined to wear me down. I stood my ground, right up until I felt two hands grab me around the waist.

“Wha—?” I never finished the sentence.

Everything happened too fast.

One sharp tug, a very undignified scream on my part and a second later, I was plunging into the pool along with someone else.

The water swallowed me whole. When I finally resurfaced, sputtering and trying to catch my breath, I was greeted by the sound of nearly the entire camp laughing.

I turned my head.

Kimi was floating less than a meter away, laughing so hard he could barely keep himself above water.

“I hate you!” I shouted, pushing my soaking hair out of my face.

“No, you don’t.”

“It’s freezing!”

“It doesn’t seem to be bothering you anymore.” He shrugged.

I looked around. The kids were celebrating like they’d just witnessed the greatest moment of their lives.

Leo even threw both hands into the air.

“I KNEW KIMI COULD CONVINCE YOU!”

“That wasn’t convincing!”

The two of them burst out laughing again.

The worst part was that after the first thirty seconds, the water didn’t actually feel that cold anymore. I ended up spending almost an entire hour playing with the kids.

When we finally climbed out, Lola looked at me with an amused smile.

“I thought you said you weren’t getting in.”

“Don’t talk to me.” I folded my arms dramatically. “I’m going through a very difficult time.”

After lunch, they organized a two-person kayak race across the lake.

Which probably explained why Kimi appeared beside me the second the instructions were finished.

“Rematch?”

“You didn’t get tired of losing yesterday?” I glanced sideways at him.

“I’m still convinced you cheated.”

“I did not cheat.”

“That’s exactly what someone who cheated would say.”

“Go ask someone else.” I rolled my eyes.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want to beat you.” He shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“You’re impossible.” I laughed.

“So…” He tilted his head. “Are you in or are you scared?”

I opened my mouth.

Closed it.

Then opened it again.

“Fine, I accept.”

We were each given our own kayak and lined up at the starting point. As I adjusted my life jacket, I caught myself staring at my paddle with a certain amount of concern; I wasn’t terrible, but I definitely wasn’t particularly good either.

And once again, I was about to compete against someone whose confidence seemed to grow at exactly the same rate as his talent for getting under my skin.

“I promise I’ll wave once I pull ahead.”

“How generous.” I raised an eyebrow.

“I like giving people a chance to see me before they lose.”

I smiled with a sweetness so fake it was almost impressive.

Just one more time…

I closed my eyes for the briefest moment.

I hope I beat him again.

The instant the thought crossed my mind, that familiar tingling returned.

Damn it.

The start was much closer than the go-kart race. For several minutes, neither of us managed to gain an advantage.

Then, as we rounded a bend lined with reeds, Kimi’s paddle snagged on a cluster of submerged branches.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” I heard him laugh as he tried to yank it free.

I paddled past him with a grin I made absolutely no effort to hide.

“Good luck!”

“That doesn’t count!”

“Of course it counts!”

I paddled as hard as I could and crossed the finish line only a few seconds before he did. The kids erupted into cheers all over again.

“This is starting to feel personal.” Kimi arrived a moment later, breathing hard. He shook his head.

“Maybe I’m just better than you.”

“No.” He pointed a finger at me. “There’s something weird about you.”

A stab of guilt pierced my chest.

Later that afternoon, we were relaxing beneath the shade of a few trees when Lola dropped down beside me. She nudged me with her elbow.

“You know Kimi’s been attached to your hip since yesterday, right?”

“What?” I nearly choked on my water.

“Oh, don’t play innocent.”

Across from us, Lucca looked up from the grass.

“…Honestly?” He shrugged. “I noticed it too.”

My stomach dropped.

No, people couldn’t already be noticing.

“You’re imagining things.” I laughed with every ounce of fake casualness I could muster.

“Uh-huh.” They answered in perfect unison.

From that moment on, I did exactly what any completely rational person would do.

I started avoiding Kimi.

If he walked toward me from one direction, I suddenly remembered Lola needed help with something. If he came over to talk, Lucca mysteriously required assistance carrying boxes.

If we happened to end up at the same activity… Well, there was always a child who urgently needed my attention.

I refused to encourage something that never should have started in the first place. The problem was that, for reasons I couldn’t explain, every single time I happened to look up I found Kimi already looking at me from somewhere across the camp.

And every time our eyes met a small frown would appear between his eyebrows, like he genuinely couldn’t understand what he’d done wrong.

The goodbye came far too quickly.

One by one, the children climbed onto their buses amid hugs, promises to stay in touch, and carefully folded drawings they handed us like they were priceless treasures.

Leo hugged me so tightly I was fairly certain he nearly cracked a rib.

“Are you coming back next year?”

“If I can…” I smiled, ruffling his hair. “…then yes.”

“I knew you’d say that.”

“Oh yeah?”

He nodded with absolute certainty.

A lump formed in my throat. I waited until the buses had disappeared down the road before finally letting out the breath I’d been holding.

“It’s amazing how they can change your life in just a few days.” Kimi’s voice made me turn my head.

He’d quietly come to stand beside me without me even noticing, he was watching the road too.

“Yeah…” I smiled wistfully. “It feels like they took half the happiness of this place with them.”

A comfortable silence settled between us.

“I’m really glad I met you, Y/N.”

I looked at him. He was smiling with that quiet ease that seemed so natural to him.

“I’m really glad I met you too.”

He nodded slowly.

“I hope we run into each other again.”

“I’m sure we will.” I lied, because as I watched him walk away, I could only think one thing.

That was it.

The volunteer program was over.

He would go back to racing.

I would go back to university.

And that ridiculous wish I’d made months ago surely it had finally run out of whatever power it had.

This was where the story ended.

(…)

Three days later, I realized the universe either played by its own rules… or simply enjoyed laughing at me.

I was lying comfortably in my bed at home when my phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen. My heart dropped straight into my ass.

Andrea Kimi Antonelli (@ kimi.antonelli) started following you.

A strangled sound escaped my throat. This couldn’t be happening, surely this nightmare was over by now.

As if things weren’t already bad enough, another notification appeared barely a minute later.

Andrea Kimi Antonelli sent you a message.

I opened it with trembling hands and a heart that felt dangerously close to exploding.

KIMI: Hey. You’re surprisingly hard to find hahaha

I stared at the message for a solid couple of minutes, trying to come to terms with the fact that the wish apparently wasn’t done with me yet. Looking back I really think I got carried away.

Because I hadn’t just wished for him to fall in love with me. No, I had gone the extra mile and wished he’d become obsessed with me. God, It was obvious this was going to happen, and, more importantly It was probably only going to get worse.

I took a long breath before slowly letting it out. Maybe the smartest thing to do was get this over with once and for all.

ME: Hey, Kimi. God, I didn’t think you’d be this determined to find me hahaha

A couple of minutes later, my phone lit up again.

KIMI: Much more than you think hahaha. It was quite the adventure trying to track you down.

ME: And how exactly did you manage that? I think you only knew my first name…

KIMI: Okay, this is going to sound a little stalker-ish lol, but I found the foundation’s Instagram, then I found your friend Lola’s profile, and after that it was pretty easy to spot you among the people she follows.

KIMI: Took me longer than I expected… but I got there 😏

ME: That’s some serious dedication. I’m impressed.

KIMI: I give one hundred percent to everything I do 🤣

A few seconds later another message arrived.

KIMI: Seriously though… I was wondering if you’d want to go bowling sometime. You still owe me a rematch.

ME: You still haven’t accepted defeat? What does that say about you as an athlete? 🧐

His typing bubble appeared almost immediately.

KIMI: The only defeat I refuse to accept is losing to you.

My heart stumbled. I knew accepting the invitation wasn’t the smartest decision, the sensible thing would have been to end everything before it had the chance to become something bigger.

But something inside me kept insisting it wasn’t that simple.

Maybe… If I just let the wish run its course he’d eventually move on.

Maybe this would finally be over.

With that thought in mind I said yes.

The bowling match ended exactly the way anyone would have expected.

Kimi won, obviously. And he still had the audacity to celebrate by throwing both arms into the air like he’d just won a Grand Prix.

“So?” he said, pointing proudly at the scoreboard. “Honor restored.”

“I didn’t realize your honor depended on beating a university student who’d only been bowling twice in her entire life.” I rolled my eyes as I reached for my bag.

“Three times.”

“What?”

“This was your third.”

I stared at him for a moment before laughing. It was alarmingly easy to be around him, conversation flowed without either of us having to force it. We talked about university, the kids from the volunteer program, food, music.

There were no awkward silences, no desperate attempts to impress each other. It was simply… easy.

When we reached my car, Kimi smiled with obvious satisfaction.

“Now we’re even.”

“Even?”

“You beat me twice. I beat you once.” He shrugged. “I’ve still got a lot of victories left before I get my dignity back.”

“You’re ridiculously competitive.” I shook my head.

“Occupational hazard.” He smiled.

We exchanged a quick hug before saying goodbye. I climbed into my car convinced of one thing.

That was it.

I’d accepted the invitation, we’d spent time together, we’d had fun. The universe had no reason to keep insisting, the wish had finally run out.

…Right?

Wrong.

The next morning, I woke up to another message from Kimi and another the following day, and another after that.

They weren’t forced conversations, they weren’t endless text marathons, he’d simply pop up to tell me something funny that had happened during his day.

To ask how my summer was going, to send me a picture of a dog he’d spotted at the airport because, according to him, “it has the same judgmental face you do.”

And before I even realized it replying to him had quietly become part of my daily routine.

That was the moment fear disappeared and guilt took its place. Because none of this was ever supposed to happen to me.

Every time I saw his name appear on my screen I thought about Zoé. About that afternoon, about our stupid argument, about the unbelievably selfish way I’d blurted out that wish.

She was the one who’d joked about meeting Kimi, she was the one who’d kept insisting and I’d stolen it away from her in a moment of anger.

Even if none of it had ever been real.

Even if she’d never actually met Kimi.

Even if she’d probably forgotten that conversation entirely, I hadn’t.

And every time Kimi smiled at me through another text message, the guilt settled back into my chest. Because there was something profoundly unfair about all of this.

If there really was a universe capable of granting wishes… Why did it choose to answer the impulsive ones?

Why did it listen to anger before kindness?

Why could one stupid sentence change the course of someone else’s life?

I tightened my grip around my phone, I was angry.

At the old woman, at the universe, at myself. And most of all, at fate’s absurd determination to keep proving this was real.

“You know what?” I muttered to the empty room. “If you want to play games so badly… then let’s play.”

I folded my arms, closed my eyes and wished for the most superficial thing I could possibly think of.

I want a ridiculous amount of money.

Not to help anyone.

Not to solve a problem.

Just for myself.

Because if the universe really granted wishes born from the heart, I wanted to know whether it rewarded selfishness too.

Ten seconds passed, nothing.

A full minute, still nothing.

I laughed.

“I knew it.”

Maybe it really had all been a string of absurd coincidences and Kimi was the exception.

A few hours later, my phone rang. It was one of my professors, she’d recommended me for a part-time summer job. The pay was surprisingly good and I’d be able to choose my own hours.

I ended the call, then sat perfectly still for several seconds.

I looked at the ceiling.

Then at my phone.

And finally I started laughing, quietly at first, then louder. Until I was standing alone in the middle of my bedroom laughing like someone who had completely lost her mind.

“No…” I dragged both hands down my face. “No. No, no, no…” Another laugh escaped me, this one tangled with something dangerously close to desperation.

I felt tears gathering in my eyes. I wasn’t even sure whether they were from laughing or from the hollow feeling spreading through my chest.

“What the hell do you want from me?” I shouted at the ceiling, kicking my feet against the floor like a child having a meltdown.

The next few weeks turned into a routine I had never planned on having. Kimi showed up on my phone almost every day with little messages that, before I even realized it, I’d started looking forward to.

One afternoon, while unsuccessfully trying to convince myself to study for the upcoming semester, he texted me again.

KIMI: Are you still busy on Friday?

ME: Depends.

KIMI: Depends on what?

ME: On whether the invitation is worth it.

He replied almost instantly.

KIMI: Dinner.

KIMI: And I promise I won’t challenge you to any sports afterward.

I smiled before I could stop myself. By then, I already knew I should say no, but I also knew I wasn’t going to.

Dinner was even easier than our first outing. We ended up at a small restaurant, far from the kind of upscale place I’d imagined someone like him would choose.

We talked for hours. Kimi had this dry sense of humor that appeared out of nowhere and caught me off guard every single time.

“You’ve spent more time reading that menu than I spend giving interviews.”

“Choosing food is an important life decision.”

He shook his head, laughing.

And I caught myself thinking how dangerous it was how effortless it had become to forget everything whenever I was with him.

After dinner, we wandered through the streets without any real destination, talking about whatever came to mind. As the night grew later, the conversation slowed until, eventually, we stopped talking altogether; we found ourselves standing beside my car. He looked at me for a few long seconds.

“I don’t want this to be the last time I see you.”

A knot tightened in my chest. I didn’t want it to be either and that was exactly the problem.

When he kissed me and his hands began wandering over my body… I didn’t think about the wish, I didn’t think about the consequences, I didn’t even think about Zoé.

I only thought about him.

The next morning, I woke with a strange sense of vertigo sitting heavily in my chest. The sunlight pouring through the hotel window felt far too bright for the number of questions racing through my head.

I got dressed in silence.

Kimi was still asleep. His hair was completely messy, and he looked so peaceful that, for a brief moment, I wanted to crawl back into bed beside him. I didn’t.

Before leaving, I scribbled a quick note and left it on the bedside table.

Thanks for dinner.

It was a cowardly goodbye, I knew that. But it was the only one I was capable of giving.

The drive home was torture. I kept asking myself the same question over and over again.

What am I doing?

Because Kimi wasn’t the problem anymore. I was.

I’d agreed to go out with him believing that, sooner or later, whatever strange effect the wish had would simply fade away. That all I had to do was give the universe enough time to finish whatever bizarre game it was playing. But somewhere along the way I’d stopped waiting for it to end, I’d started enjoying it and that was the unforgivable part.

Not wishing for Kimi. But forgetting, even for a little while, that according to my own logic he never should have fallen for me in the first place.

I was still turning all of that over in my head when I walked through the front door.

“You’re home!” Zoé’s voice stopped me in my tracks.

I looked up. She was sitting in the kitchen with a mug of coffee and the biggest smile on her face.

“Surprise! I came back a few days early before leaving for my exchange program.”

My stomach dropped. I’d completely forgotten she was coming home that week. Zoé stood up and wrapped me in a hug, I hugged her back with a smile I didn’t actually feel.

As she excitedly told me everything she still needed to pack before leaving abroad one single thought kept repeating inside my head.

She had absolutely no idea that the guy she’d joked about that afternoon had spent the night with me.

That was the moment guilt stopped feeling like simple remorse and It started feeling like a secret.

An hour later, I locked myself in my bedroom under the excuse that I needed a shower and had to get ready. Instead, the very first thing I did was kneel beside my bed and clasp my hands together like I was about to pray.

My heart felt completely torn in two.

I liked Kimi, If I was being completely honest I was probably in love with him. But I also knew we could never be together, there were simply too many things standing in the way.

So I made one last wish.

Please… don’t let him fall in love with me. Make him forget about me. Let him move on with his life.

My lips whispered one thing, my heart wanted another. But it was the right thing to do, or at least I desperately needed to believe it was.

It was done, there was no taking it back.

Imagine my surprise when only a few minutes later my phone lit up with a frantic message from Kimi asking where I’d gone.

ME: Sorry. I had to go home. My sister’s here today.

KIMI: Oh… I understand. I hope you have a good time with her.

I never answered.

Naively, I convinced myself that if I simply started ignoring him I’d be helping my wish come true faster. But like everything connected to the curse I’d been given nothing was ever what it seemed, every time I thought I’d finally figured out how it worked, it proved me wrong.

My plan failed miserably. Because the more determined I became to ignore him the more persistent—and unpredictable—Kimi became.

To the point that one afternoon, as I walked out of my part-time job, I nearly jumped out of my skin when I found him waiting for me in the parking lot, leaning casually against the side of his car.

“Who are you?” I joked weakly. “Han from Tokyo Drift?”

Kimi’s expression told me he didn’t find that remotely funny. If anything he looked ready to start an argument right there.

“Can we talk?” He straightened away from the car.

“We are talking,” I answered quietly, avoiding his eyes.

“You know what I mean.” His voice was so cold it sent a shiver racing down my spine.

Eventually, I nodded and climbed into the passenger seat. I expected him to start driving, he didn’t. Apparently, we were having the conversation right there in the parking lot.

“Why are you ignoring me?” He didn’t bother easing into it.

I looked down at my hands, I’d rehearsed this conversation hundreds of times in my head. None of those versions seemed remotely useful now that he was sitting right beside me.

“I’m not ignoring you.”

He let out a dry, humorless laugh.

“I’ve been texting you for two weeks, you don’t answer. I call—you don’t pick up. I even went to your house, and your dad told me you’d left an hour earlier.” He looked straight at me. “And now you’re telling me you’re not ignoring me?”

“I’m sorry.” I swallowed hard.

“I don’t want you to be sorry.” His voice softened. “I want to understand what happened.”

For the first time since getting into the car, I looked up. Something in his expression hurt, he wasn’t angry, he was confused.

“Did I do something that night?” His voice dropped almost to a whisper.

“No.” I shook my head immediately.

“Then do you regret it?”

A knot formed in my throat. Because yes and no. I regretted everything that had happened before I met him.

The wish.

The argument with Zoé.

But that night? Never, not for a single second.

“It’s not that.”

“Then explain it to me.” His expression softened even more.

I stayed silent.

How was I supposed to tell him? “A few months ago an old woman gave me magical wish powers, and during an argument I wished you’d fall in love with me… so now I don’t know if any of this is actually your choice or just the universe forcing your feelings.” It sounded just as ridiculous in my head as it had the first time I’d thought it.

“I can’t.”

“Help me out here, Y/N.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows against the steering wheel before dragging a hand across his face. “I don’t understand, a month ago you laughed with me, two weeks ago…”

His voice caught for the briefest second.

“We spent the night together.” He looked back at me. “And ever since then you’ve been acting like I did something unforgivable.”

I bit the inside of my cheek.

“You didn’t do anything.”

“Then what the hell is happening?”

Silence settled between us again. Heavy, uncomfortable and painful. After a few moments, he spoke again.

“Is there someone else?”

“No.”

“An ex?”

“No.”

“Your family?”

I shook my head again.

“Then stop making excuses where there are none.” He frowned.

A bitter laugh escaped me.

“I wish it was that simple.”

“Then make it simple.”

I looked at him, for one terrifying second I almost told him everything. Then I thought about Zoé and the words died before they ever reached my lips. I took a slow breath.

“We can’t be together, Kimi.” I watched those five words completely change his expression.

“Why?”

“Because we can’t.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one I can give you.”

“I don’t accept it.”

“Well…” Something inside me finally snapped. “You’re going to have to.”

“I’m not accepting something I don’t even understand.”

“Because there’s nothing to understand!” My voice came out louder than I’d intended. “We just…” I closed my eyes for a second. “…can’t. That’s all.”

Kimi went completely still.

“Is that what you want?” The question hit me like a punch to the chest.

Because I couldn’t lie, I just couldn’t. I looked away and my silence answered for me.

He exhaled slowly.

“No.” He shook his head. “That’s not it, you feel this too.” His eyes searched mine.

Tears burned behind my eyes. I couldn’t stay there another second. I reached for the door handle.

“Y/N.”

I opened the door.

“Y/N, look at me.”

“I’m sorry.” I shook my head and climbed out of the car as fast as I could.

“Y/N!”

I heard his door slam open behind me.

“Y/N!”

I didn’t turn around, I walked faster.

“Y/N!” His voice echoed across the parking lot again, louder this time, more desperate.

But I kept walking, because if I looked back even once I knew I’d go back to him.

(…)

I got home, and the very first thing I did was throw clothes into a suitcase and book the first flight I could find to Spain. I was going to put an end to all of this once and for all.

Three hours later, I was already somewhere above the clouds. As soon as I landed, I checked into a small hostel, dumped my suitcase in the room, and immediately headed out in search of that damn witch from hell.

Finding her turned out to be surprisingly easy. As I walked down her street, I spotted her outside her house, calmly sweeping the sidewalk like she hadn’t completely derailed my life.

“We need to talk.” No hello, no polite greeting. I went straight to the point.

“Oh.” She looked me up and down before smiling. “I’ve been expecting you. Although I must admit, I didn’t think you’d come this soon. Come in.” She gestured toward the door, I followed her inside.

Outwardly, my steps were steady. Inside, my heart was beginning to falter.

“Would you like some tea?” she asked with an almost mischievous smile.

“No, thank you.” I answered a little more sharply than I’d intended. “Who knows what you’ve put in it.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” She actually laughed. “This one’s just chamomile.”

The nerve.

“So…” She took a seat. “Tell me. How has my little gift been treating you?”

“Terribly.” The answer came out before she’d even finished asking. “That’s why I’m here, I need you to take it back, I don’t want it anymore.”

I looked her straight in the eye.

“Was it really that bad?” She frowned thoughtfully before taking a sip of her tea. “It’s not so simple to undo a gift like that.”

“I don’t care how difficult it is.” My voice cracked despite my best efforts. “I just… don’t want it anymore.”

She studied me for a long moment.

“Tell me what happened. Then I’ll decide whether your situation truly calls for something so drastic.”

So I told her, about Kimi, about the wishes, about everything. I still didn’t know what it was about that woman, but once I started talking to her, I simply couldn’t stop.

“And that’s why I need you to take this gift away.” I finished my story with a shaky breath. “If you do… he’ll stop feeling this way about me.”

She stared at me for a second before absentmindedly inspecting her fingernails.

“I think you’re making a mountain out of a molehill.”

“…Excuse me?” I blinked.

Was this woman actually serious?

“Yes.” She stood up and began wandering slowly around the room. “And I suppose part of that is my fault. I never properly explained how your gift works.”

She stopped in front of a shelf filled with dried herbs and began pulling down several bundles, tying them together with practiced hands.

“Your gift doesn’t grant wishes directly.” She glanced back at me. “It creates opportunities for them to come true. The more deeply you feel a wish the harder the universe works to open a path toward it.”

She continued tying the herbs together before speaking again.

“You can cancel one wish with another. But the boy didn’t fall out of love with you for two reasons.” She walked back toward me and stopped just a few feet away. “The first is that a wish cannot contradict your true feelings.”

Her expression softened.

“Think about it. Every time one of your wishes came true, you were completely consumed by the emotion behind it. When you wished for your father to keep his job, you were terrified. When you wished for Zoé’s scholarship, you were hopeful.”

“When you wished to beat Kimi…” She smiled knowingly. “…you genuinely wanted it.”

“But when you wished for him to forget you…” She shook her head. “Your mouth said one thing, but your heart wanted the exact opposite.”

I felt every one of my carefully built theories collapse like a house of cards.

She continued before I had the chance to speak.

“The second reason…” She looked directly into my eyes. “…is that wishes cannot create feelings. If that boy is in love with you it’s because those feelings are real, no wish could ever force them into existence. The only thing your impulsive little outburst accomplished was creating the opportunity for the two of you to meet. The feelings? They found their own way.”

I lowered my eyes to the little table between us. The knot in my throat became almost unbearable.

After a long silence, she spoke again.

“Now If you truly want me to take your gift away I can. But understand something first.” She spoke so quietly I almost missed it. “If I remove it, I cannot give it back. Not ever.”

I thought about it for exactly one second. Sure… The gift had been useful, it had solved problems. But it had caused far more chaos than it had ever fixed.

“I want it gone.”

“Very well.” She nodded once. “Let’s begin.”

The old woman closed her eyes and began chanting in a language I couldn’t even begin to recognize. The hairs on my arms immediately stood on end. I stared at her with wide eyes.

Then she slowly raised both hands toward the ceiling. Her entire body began trembling.

“…What the fuck?” I whispered. I swear she was weirder than I remember.

Suddenly, she froze.

She looked directly at me, walked over with infuriating calm, picked up the bundle of herbs she’d just tied together… and started smacking me with it.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I yelped. “Ow! That actually hurts!” I rubbed every spot she managed to hit while she continued whacking me.

“Out!”

Whack.

“Out!”

Whack.

“Leave this girl’s body!”

Whack.

“Ow!”

At some point, I’d had enough. I jumped to my feet, fully intending to run for the door. Before I could take more than two steps the entire house began shaking, books crashed from the shelves and the old woman went completely still.

I let out a scream and bolted for the front door. The moment I threw it open a blinding light swallowed everything.

When I opened my eyes again I was staring at the ceiling of the hostel room I’d rented that morning.

“Crazy old bitch…” I groaned, pressing a hand against the pounding headache splitting my skull.

The next day, I flew home.

Emotionally speaking I’d been hit by a truck. My heart felt like a raisin, small, wrinkled and thoroughly miserable. Apparently, it showed. Because the moment Zoé saw me she frowned.

“What the hell happened to you?”

I didn’t answer, I just wrapped my arms around her. So tightly that she nearly stopped breathing.

“…Y/N?”

“I need to tell you something.”

“What happened?” Her tone changed instantly.

I led her upstairs to my room, closed the door behind us, and sat down on the edge of my bed. I took a deep breath. Then I started talking.

I told her everything, absolutely everything. How I’d met Kimi at the volunteer camp, the go-karts, the lake, the day he’d found me on Instagram.

Every date, every conversation, dinner, the night we’d spent together, how desperately I’d tried to push him away, the argument in his car, my impulsive trip back to Spain.

The old woman, the wishes, the answers I’d finally gotten, and most importantly… the real reason I’d chosen to walk away from someone I loved with all my heart.

When I finished, the room fell completely silent. Zoé stared at me with the exact expression of someone trying to solve an impossible equation.

I waited. Five seconds, ten, fifteen. Finally, she opened her mouth.

“Are you done?”

I nodded slowly.

She stayed quiet for another moment, her eyebrows drew together. She blinked a couple of times and then… she started laughing.

Not a chuckle, not an amused smile, an actual, full-body laugh. The kind that makes your stomach hurt. She doubled over, gasping for air between bursts of laughter.

“Zoé!” That only made it worse.

“I’m sorry!” she wheezed. “I’m sorry… I swear I’m trying so hard to be a supportive sister…”

She looked at me again, then completely lost it again.

“This isn’t funny!”

“Oh, yes it is!” She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “Are you seriously telling me…?”

She tried to continue, she couldn’t. Another fit of laughter interrupted her.

I crossed my arms and waited until she’d calmed down enough to breathe again.

She inhaled deeply.

“So let me get this straight.” She pointed at me. “You’ve spent weeks rejecting the love of your life because you thought I’d somehow be devastated over a stupid joke I made almost a year ago?”

I didn’t answer, because hearing it out loud… yeah, it sounded pretty ridiculous.

“You’re an idiot.” Zoé shook her head in disbelief.

“Thanks.”

“No, seriously.” She walked over and flicked my forehead with one finger. “You are officially the most dramatic person I’ve ever met.”

“I’m being completely serious.”

“So am I!” She laughed again. “Y/N… I wasn’t in love with Kimi Antonelli.” She looked at me like the answer should have been obvious. “I didn’t even know him. I just blurted out the name of the driver who happened to be on TV because I wanted to annoy you.”

I froze.

“…What?”

“What exactly did you think happened afterward?” She stared at me. “That I’d spent the last year crying myself to sleep because some guy I’d never met didn’t fall in love with me?”

I sat there speechless.

“…Well…” I rubbed the back of my neck. “…when you put it like that…”

“Exactly!” She threw a pillow at me. “Do you know what I did after we had that argument?”

I shook my head.

“I went downstairs and made popcorn.”

“…That was it?” I blinked.

“That was it.” She sighed dramatically. “You’ve spent weeks turning this into a full-blown Greek tragedy while I completely forgot that conversation even happened.”

Heat slowly crept up my neck, embarrassment had officially taken over.

“Do you know what the worst part is?”

“What?”

“That poor guy probably thinks you’re completely insane.”

“Oh, please don’t remind me.” I buried my face in my hands.

Zoé sat down beside me. This time, she wasn’t laughing anymore.

“Listen to me.” She reached over and took one of my hands. “If Kimi is in love with you, it’s because he chose to be; not because I lost him, not because you stole him from me. It happened because that’s how things happened.”

She squeezed my hand gently.

“And honestly…” She smiled at me with the kind of tenderness that only appeared during the moments that truly mattered. “I’d be a complete idiot if I got angry over losing a story that was never mine to begin with.”

(...)

I couldn’t sleep that night.

I tried. God, I really tried. I tossed and turned for nearly an hour, squeezed my eyes shut, even counted sheep—which I’d always thought was completely ridiculous.

Nothing worked, so I pulled a hoodie over my pajamas and slipped quietly out of the house.

The neighborhood park was almost empty. Only a handful of streetlights illuminated the paths, and somewhere in the distance, a chorus of crickets seemed to be having a far more interesting conversation than the one inside my own head.

I ended up sitting on one of the swings. I pushed myself gently with the tips of my shoes, swaying back and forth ever so slightly.

I never imagined it was possible to miss someone so quickly. And yet there I was, missing the way Kimi laughed whenever I said something stupid. Missing how he somehow managed to turn everything into a competition, missing even how unbelievably competitive he was.

A quiet laugh escaped me. The irony, I’d spent weeks running away from him and now I couldn’t think about anything else. I rested my head against one of the swing’s chains and closed my eyes.

I’d hurt him, nobody needed to tell me that, I could still see the look on his face when he asked if there was someone else, I could still hear him calling my name as I walked away from the parking lot. I hadn’t even found the courage to look back.

I let out a slow breath.

If, after all of that, he decided never to look for me again… Well, he’d have every right, I was the one who’d closed that door.

I looked up at the sky. The stars barely managed to shine through the glow of the city lights.

I smiled sadly.

“I wish I could see him again…” The words slipped from my lips before I even realized I’d spoken them.

But for the first time in months I wasn’t afraid. The old woman had taken my gift away, so this wish was exactly what it sounded like.

Just a wish, nothing more.

I rested my elbows on my knees and sat there, letting the silence do what silence does best.

Several minutes passed, maybe half an hour, maybe longer. Until headlights appeared at the end of the street.

I squinted, a car was approaching slowly. I barely paid any attention to it, until it stopped right in front of the park.

The headlights blinded me for a moment. When they switched off, I could make out someone stepping out of the driver’s seat.

I blinked several times as my eyes adjusted to the darkness again.

No.

That couldn’t be.

My heart started pounding so hard I thought it might actually burst out of my chest.

Kimi closed the car door and started walking toward me.

I froze.

The first thing I felt was happiness, the second… pure indignation.

“That old woman scammed me…” I muttered under my breath.

Kimi frowned slightly.

“What?”

“Nothing.” I shook my head.

Nothing important, just that I’d apparently flown all the way to Spain only to get smacked with a bundle of herbs for absolutely no reason.

A small laugh escaped him, though he still looked completely confused.

He stopped in front of me.

For a few seconds, neither of us spoke. Finally, I broke the silence.

“How did you find me?”

“I went to your house.” He answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Your sister answered the door.”

“You talked to Zoé?” A chill ran down my spine.

He nodded.

“She said you’d probably be here.”

I made a mental note to interrogate my stepsister later. Because I was fairly certain she’d enjoyed helping him far more than she should have.

Kimi sat down on the swing beside mine. This time, he left several inches between us, as if he was afraid of getting too close.

“I didn’t come here to argue.”

I nodded slowly.

“I figured.”

He stayed quiet for a few moments before speaking again.

“I just needed to know one thing.”

I looked at him and he took a deep breath.

“What you told me that day… was it true?”

“Which part?” I lowered my gaze.

“That we can’t be together.”

A knot tightened in my throat. There wasn’t any point in hiding anymore, not after talking to Zoé, not after Spain, not after everything.

“No.”

His entire expression changed instantly.

“…No?”

“It was never true.” I slowly shook my head. I took a shaky breath. “The only thing that was true was that I was terrified.”

He remained perfectly still.

“Terrified of what?”

“Of losing you.” I smiled sadly. “Because the more I cared about you the more convinced I became that sooner or later I’d ruin everything. And I thought that if I walked away first, maybe it would hurt less.”

Kimi lowered his eyes for a few seconds. Then he let out a slow breath, like he’d been holding it in for weeks.

“I thought you didn’t feel anything for me anymore.”

I shook my head.

“That was exactly the problem. I felt everything.”

For a while, neither of us said a word, then I felt his hand hesitantly searching for mine. I didn’t pull away when he laced our fingers together.

He smiled and there was so much relief in that smile that it broke my heart a little.

“Don’t ever do that to me again.” His voice was barely more than a whisper. “I was going out of my mind.”

“I’m sorry.” A tear escaped before I could stop it.

He immediately shook his head.

“No. No more apologies.” He gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “Just… stay.”

I looked at him and for the first time since that old woman had walked into my life I stopped fighting the universe. I leaned forward until my forehead rested against his.

“I really, really like you, Kimi.”

He let out a quiet laugh.

“Thank God. Because I’d already started thinking of names for our kids.”

I shoved his shoulder lightly.

“Idiot.”

“A little.”

We stayed there for a while longer, barely moving on the swings, our fingers still intertwined.

Before I looked away, I glanced up at the sky one last time. I was completely certain that somewhere in Spain, one insufferable old woman was laughing her head off.

Because, in the end…

She’d gotten exactly what she’d wanted.

The following morning, I slipped out before sunrise, leaving behind absolutely no trace that I’d ever been there.

That was my life in a nutshell: go out, kiss a stranger, disappear before anyone had the chance to remember my name.

It was my own little act of rebellion—a way of making such a spectacular mess of my life that it would be impossible for my family not to hate every second of it.

What I hadn’t really considered was that one day the consequences would come back to kick my ass.

“What the hell did you do to Oscar?” Lando’s voice came through the phone, sounding far too amused.

“Me? I didn’t do anything. What are you talking about?” I replied, equally entertained.

“He looks like a bloody teenager going through his first crush.” His obnoxious laugh echoed through the speaker.

“Oh, please, Lando. Stop being so immature. We just had sex, okay? You have sex practically every weekend. It’s not exactly a life-changing event.”

Lando was one of the smartest people I’d ever met. He was also one of the biggest idiots.

He loved messing with people, poking at them with stupid jokes and even stupider comments whenever he had the chance. Unfortunately for him, I’d known him long enough to see every single one of them coming.

Whether what he was saying about Oscar was true or not, I couldn’t have cared less. I was only interested in having fun—and never getting involved with anyone more than absolutely necessary.

A month after that night, my life was still exactly the same disaster.

It just had a different leading man.

Caleb couldn’t make it anywhere on time, yet somehow he always managed to find time to get himself into trouble.

He had the kind of charm that only worked when you were still too young to tell the difference between someone exciting and someone dangerous.

“Could you slow down?” I asked for the third time as the speedometer kept climbing.

He laughed without taking his eyes off the road.

“Relax.”

“I’m serious, Caleb.” My voice was beginning to shake, my nerves finally catching up to me.

“So am I. Nothing’s gonna happen.”

It was.

Something always happened.

A second later, headlights appeared far too close.

The screech of brakes.

A deafening impact.

Metal twisting.

Glass exploding in every direction.

And then… Nothing.

The first thing I heard when I woke up was the steady beeping of a heart monitor, then came the sharp smell of disinfectant.

I tried to sit up, but a stabbing pain shot through my side.

“Don’t move.” A nurse appeared beside my bed. “You were very lucky. Just a few bruises and a fractured rib.”

I blinked several times.

“Caleb?”

“He’s okay. A few injuries, but he’s out of danger.”

A strange sense of relief spread through my chest. It lasted exactly three seconds.

“However…” the nurse continued, glancing down at the chart in her hands. “There’s something else we need to talk about.”

A knot tightened in my stomach.

“What happened?”

“You’re pregnant.”

The world fell completely silent.

No.

They had to be wrong.

I was already shaking my head before I’d even had time to process the words.

“That’s… that’s impossible.”

The nurse gave me the kind of smile hospitals seem to teach—the careful balance between professionalism and sympathy.

“We ran the test twice to confirm it.”

Everything that came after turned into background noise.

Weeks.

Estimated gestational age.

Medical explanations.

The words floated past me without ever really reaching my brain. Because I was too busy doing the math.

The night with Oscar, my period afterward, then the night with Caleb. The timeline fit together far too well. A cold emptiness settled deep inside me.

Oscar wasn’t the father.

Caleb was.

And that was the worst possible outcome. Because I knew Caleb and I knew exactly what would happen if I told him.

By the time my parents arrived at the hospital, it only took one look to realize the doctors had already told them.

My mother had been crying and my father wore the same rigid expression he always had whenever he’d already made a decision for everyone else.

“You’re having this baby,” he said before even asking how I was feeling.

Not a single “Are you okay?”

Not a hug.

Just an order.

“Dad…” My voice barely came out above a whisper.

“There’s nothing to discuss.” His tone left no room for argument, whatever I wanted no longer mattered.

“Children are never a mistake.” My mother reached for my hand.

I almost laughed.

Not because it was funny.

Because it was absurd, my life had just changed forever, and they were already talking as if the biggest issue was convincing me to keep the pregnancy.

“Who’s the father?” my father asked.

Silence settled over the room.

I thought about Caleb.

His wrecked car.

The countless times he’d disappeared for days without answering a single text.

Every promise he’d never kept.

I swallowed hard.

“I… I want to talk to him first.”

My father nodded once.

“Do it as soon as possible.”

When they finally left me alone, I stared back up at the white hospital ceiling.

My mind kept asking the same question over and over again.

What kind of life could Caleb possibly give a child?

The answer came easily.

None.

And then, for reasons I couldn’t explain, another name surfaced.

Oscar.

I remembered the way he’d looked at me that night, how calm he had been. The ridiculous feeling that he was the kind of person who always did the right thing, even when no one expected him to.

The thought came so quickly that I was ashamed I’d even had it. I pushed it away immediately.

A few seconds later it came back.

And this time, it stayed.

(…)

ME: Lando, I need Oscar’s number

LANDO: Uh… you wanna do him another favor? 👀

ME: Don’t be an idiot, I need to talk to him

LANDO: About what?

LANDO: If I’m giving it to you, I need the details

ME: To send him my n#des

LANDO: 👀👀👀

LANDO: Yeah, I don’t believe you

LANDO: Show me first

ME: Asshole

LANDO: Lmaooo

LANDO: Don’t be mad, I’m kidding

LANDO: Unless you want me not to be 😏

I rolled my eyes so hard they almost hurt. Lando was a complete idiot. After a few more minutes of bickering, he finally sent me the number I needed.

It had been a week since I found out about my unplanned pregnancy, and I’d finally made a decision.

A terrible, horrible, catastrophically bad decision.

I was going to tell Oscar he was the baby’s father.

I knew all I was doing was digging myself into an even deeper grave. But I’d always been the kind of person who acted first, thought later, and dealt with the consequences afterward.

And if there was ever a situation that called for desperate measures, this was it.

With my heart lodged somewhere in my throat and my hands trembling, I typed the message that was about to change my life forever.

ME: Hi, Oscar. It’s Y/N.

Several minutes passed without a reply. Long enough for me to seriously consider deleting the message and abandoning the unbelievably stupid plan my twisted mind had come up with.

But I was too late. Before I could press delete, the three little dots appeared. He was typing.

OSCAR: Hi, Y/N. What a surprise. I honestly thought you never wanted to talk to me again lol.

I physically flinched, like someone had cracked a whip across my back.

God, I really was a terrible person.

ME: I’m really sorry. I never meant to ghost you. I was just… honestly really embarrassed about what happened. I didn’t know how to face you afterward.

It was a shameless lie. But I needed every excuse I could find to make myself look like the innocent woman I wasn’t.

OSCAR: There was nothing to be embarrassed about, we’re adults. But I get it, casual sex isn’t always an easy thing for women to process.

ME: Thank you for understanding.

ME: I guess you’re wondering why I’m texting you now. I think it’d be better if we talked in person. Could we meet?

Oscar agreed without hesitation.

I asked if we could meet somewhere as private and discreet as possible. I had no idea what went through his mind after reading that. But judging by the tone of his replies I’d definitely made him nervous.

We met that same afternoon at his apartment in Monaco.

It was the off-season, just before the next championship began, so I figured he was spending most of his time there.

When I arrived, we greeted each other with an awkward familiarity. But I could see the tension in his eyes. It wasn’t hard to recognize, because I was feeling it too.

He invited me inside, and I sat down on the large sofa. I couldn’t stop fidgeting with my hands. My heart was pounding, and every breath felt too shallow.

“Do you want some water?” Oscar asked hesitantly, immediately picking up on how nervous I looked.

“No, thank you.” I forced myself to meet his eyes. “I think it’s better if we just talk.”

Oscar sat down on the sofa across from me. Just like me, he started absentmindedly playing with his hands.

“Yeah… I think that’s probably for the best.” He scratched the back of his neck. “You seem really tense.”

I took a couple of deep breaths and told myself it was now or never.

“I’m pregnant.” The words came out all at once.

Oscar’s mouth fell open. He froze completely, unable to move or say a single word.

“I guess you’ve probably figured out that if I’m telling you this… it’s because you’re the father.” Every lie tasted heavier than the last. “I know we barely know each other, and you have every right to doubt me, but you’re the only person I’ve been with in a very long time.”

The lies just kept coming. I felt like if I stopped talking—even for a second—I would come to my senses and admit that none of it was true.

“I know this is unexpected. And if you want a paternity test, I’ll understand. I wouldn’t blame you for asking.” Finally, I stopped.

I knew mentioning a paternity test could end up blowing my entire plan apart. But in my mind, offering it made me look even more like a vulnerable girl telling the truth. Basic reverse psychology.

Oscar remained silent. His eyes stayed fixed on the coffee table between us. After what felt like forever, he let out a long breath and ran both hands over his face before pushing them through his hair.

“Y/N…” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m just… in shock.” His eyes found mine for only a second before drifting somewhere else in the room.

By then, I was practically chewing my nails off. I had no idea whether my unbelievably stupid plan was actually going to work. But I was willing to see it through until the very end.

“I guess…” Oscar said quietly, “if you’re telling me this, you’ve already decided you’re keeping the baby. Is that right?” His voice was calm. His expression wasn’t.

“Yes, I’m telling you because… I want your support.” I swallowed hard “But I’d understand if you didn’t want anything to do with either of us.”

More reverse psychology.

God, I was turning into some kind of sociopath.

“Okay.” Oscar finally spoke after another long silence.“I’m not going to leave you alone. I’ll take responsibility for the baby and for you.” His words were steady.

He paused.

“I won’t abandon either of you.”

Guilt twisted painfully in my chest. But relief washed over me at the exact same time.

My salvation had arrived in the form of a blond Australian boy and I was going to do everything I could to hold on to the first opportunity my own recklessness had ever handed me.

Oscar stood up and walked over to me. Before I knew it, his arms were wrapped around me.

The hug was gentle, careful and somehow, that made everything worse. I couldn’t stop myself from crying.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, one hand slowly rubbing up and down my back. “Everything’s going to be alright.”

I buried my face against his shoulder.

All I could think was that I was the worst woman to have ever walked this earth.

(…)

The next few days were… Strange.

Oscar insisted on going all the way to my parents’ house in Marseille to speak with them himself and make it clear that he intended to take responsibility.

My father adored him from the moment they met.

He was polite, soft-spoken, listened before he answered, and had that rare ability to make whoever he was talking to feel like the most important person in the room.

It took my father less than twenty minutes to start asking about his job, his family, and his plans for the future. When Oscar explained that he was a Formula One driver, I thought my dad was going to have a heart attack.

He spent the rest of the afternoon asking about racing, traveling, and engines, while my mother kept refilling his coffee and bringing out more biscuits as if she’d been waiting years for someone exactly like him to walk through the front door.

I barely spoke. I simply watched them from the other side of the dining room, feeling like an impostor.

Because they were getting to know the man they believed was the father of my child and I was the only person in that house who knew he wasn’t.

What I never expected was for Oscar to take the promise he’d made that day so seriously.

I assumed he’d call every now and then.

Ask how the pregnancy was going.

Show up for the important ultrasounds.

Nothing more.

But I was completely wrong.

Two days later, he showed up at my apartment carrying a bag filled with fruit, prenatal vitamins, and a notebook.

“What’s all that?” I asked, pointing at it.

“I’ve been reading.” He said it so casually it caught me off guard. “I wrote down a few questions for the obstetrician next week. There are still some things I don’t really understand.”

I stared at him for a few seconds.

“You… made a list?”

“Yeah.” He opened the notebook. Every page was covered in impossibly neat handwriting.

Foods to avoid.

How often ultrasounds are scheduled.

Supplements.

Normal pregnancy symptoms.

Some words were even underlined.

I couldn’t help laughing under my breath.

“Oscar…”

He looked up.

“What?”

“Nothing.” I shook my head. “It’s just… I wasn’t expecting this.”

He frowned slightly.

“Neither was I.” A small smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “I wasn’t expecting to become a dad either.”

The honesty in his voice left me with nothing to say.

The weeks started slipping by far too quickly.

Oscar was there for everything. He was never late. He never forgot a doctor’s appointment. If I casually mentioned craving something at ten o’clock at night, he’d be knocking on my door half an hour later with exactly what I’d wanted.

When the nausea made it impossible for me to cook, he’d make something simple himself and pretend not to notice when I could barely manage two bites.

If I looked too exhausted, he’d practically force me into bed while he cleaned up the kitchen.

And he did it all like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He never complained.

He never acted trapped.

Not once did he suggest that the pregnancy had ruined his plans.

The first time he came with me to an ultrasound, I realized this had stopped being just a responsibility to him.

The examination room was almost silent. Only the doctor’s voice filled the space as she explained things I was barely listening to.

Oscar, on the other hand, never took his eyes off the screen.

The moment the tiny heartbeat echoed through the room, I felt his breathing catch.

I turned my head slightly.

His eyes were completely fixed on that tiny flicker I could barely make out myself.

He wasn’t smiling.

He wasn’t crying.

He simply looked like someone struggling to believe that something so small could actually be real. Then, almost as if he was afraid he’d break something, he reached for my hand.

Our fingers intertwined.

He didn’t say a single word and didn’t let go until we walked out of the doctor’s office.

As the weeks passed, it became a habit.

Every morning, my phone would light up.

OSCAR: Did you sleep okay?

OSCAR: Have you had breakfast yet?

OSCAR: How are you feeling today?

If I took too long to answer, he’d call. If all I replied with was I’m fine, he’d show up an hour later insisting that “fine” wasn’t nearly specific enough.

“You’re way too intense,” I complained one afternoon as I watched him fill my refrigerator for the third time that week.

“Probably.”

“You don’t have to take care of me this much.”

He placed a bottle of milk on the shelf before turning to face me.

“I know.”

“Then… why do you?”

Oscar was quiet for a few seconds. Then he gave a small shrug.

“Because I care about you.”

That was it.

No hidden agenda.

No elaborate explanation.

Because I care about you.

Something inside me shifted.

Because someone could get involved for the baby’s sake, someone could feel responsible, someone could simply do what they believed was right. But nobody cared that much about the mother if they were only there out of obligation.

It was Lando who finally planted the seed of doubt.

We’d met for lunch while Oscar was at the simulator.

He’d been watching me for almost ten minutes with that infuriating smile he always wore whenever he thought he’d figured something out before I had.

“What?” I finally asked.

“Nothing.”

“Lando.”

“That man is falling for you.”

I laughed so loudly that several people turned to look at us.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not saying he’s already in love with you.” He rested his chin on his hand “I’m saying he’s heading there at full speed.”

I shook my head.

“Oscar’s just trying to do the right thing.”

“No.” He didn’t look away from me “Doing the right thing is paying child support, showing up to appointments, being present.”

He leaned forward across the table.

“What Oscar is doing…” He smiled knowingly. “…is what a man does when he’s starting to build a life with you.”

I couldn’t think of a single argument to prove him wrong.

One night, I ended up sleeping at Oscar’s apartment. It wasn’t the first time he’d offered, but it was the first time I’d said yes.

For two days, I hadn’t been able to keep anything down. The nausea had gotten so bad that I’d ended up crying in his bathroom, desperately trying to convince my body that a couple of plain crackers weren’t some kind of mortal threat.

Oscar hadn’t hesitated for a second. He canceled dinner with some friends, spent twenty minutes researching the safest way to make ginger tea for a pregnant woman, and when I refused to eat because I was convinced I’d throw everything back up, he quietly disappeared.

An hour later, he came back carrying a bowl of plain white rice.

“Just three bites,” he said, sitting across from me.

“I can’t.”

“Try.”

“Oscar…”

“Three.”

I ended up eating half the bowl. He smiled like he’d just won a Grand Prix.

The next day, I woke before sunrise. For a few seconds, I had no idea where I was. The curtains let in only a thin strip of bluish morning light, and the other side of the bed was empty.

I frowned.

Then I heard voices. They weren’t loud, but the apartment was so quiet that every word carried through the hallway.

I got out of bed carefully, trying not to make a sound. As I got closer, I recognized Oscar’s voice and another one I didn’t.

“…I’m telling you, I’m not doing it.” His voice was unusually firm.

I froze.

“Oscar, think about this for one second,” the other man replied. “You’re twenty-five years old. You’re just starting to build your career, this isn’t some minor issue.”

I leaned just enough to peek into the kitchen. The man—who I assumed was his manager—stood with his arms crossed, looking completely exhausted.

“Exactly because it isn’t a minor issue, I’m not going to treat it like one.”

“I’m not telling you to abandon the baby.” He paused. “I’m telling you to get a DNA test.”

My heart stopped.

“It’s a simple procedure. If the baby’s yours, great and if it isn’t—”

Oscar cut him off before he could finish.

“It is.”

“How can you possibly be so sure?”

“Because I trust Y/N.”

“You trust a girl you slept with once?” His manager let out a dry laugh.

Oscar was quiet for a few seconds. When he finally answered, his voice was so calm it hurt to listen to.

“Yeah.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Maybe.” He shrugged slightly. “But I’m not asking her for a DNA test as if she’s a liar.”

My jaw clenched.

“Oscar…”

“No.” This time his voice came out firmer. “She already made the decision to have this baby. She’s scared, her body is changing every single day, the last thing she needs is for me to show up implying I think she’s lying to me.”

“You’re being naïve.”

“I’d rather be naïve than become the kind of man who makes the mother of his child feel alone.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

I couldn’t stay there another second. I slipped back into the bedroom before either of them could see me.

And I cried.

Quietly.

Because I’d realized that the only naïve person in that conversation was Oscar.

And the guilty one was me.

The next few days felt different. I didn’t do anything obvious. I just started pulling away.

If he suggested dinner, I said I was tired.

If he wanted to come shopping for baby clothes, I came up with an excuse.

My replies got shorter.

I returned his calls hours later.

It took Oscar exactly three days to notice.

“Did I do something wrong?” The question came on an otherwise ordinary afternoon.

We’d just finished another prenatal appointment, and he didn’t even start the car. He simply turned to face me.

“What?”

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’m not avoiding you.” I shook my head too quickly.

“Yes, you are.” His voice stayed gentle.

That only made everything harder.

“If I did something that upset you…” He paused. “I’d rather you just tell me.”

I lowered my eyes to my hands. I couldn’t keep running forever, so I took a deep breath.

“I heard your conversation.”

“What conversation?”

“The one you had with your manager.”

I watched his expression change.

Not to anger.

To understanding.

“Y/N…”

“He was right.” My voice began to crack. “He had every right to tell you to get a DNA test.”

“No.” Oscar sighed.

“Yes.” I cut him off. “The truth is…”

There it was, I only had to say it.

The baby isn’t yours.

The words were ready, pressing against my throat, waiting to be set free. But Oscar spoke first.

“Do you know why I’m not getting that test?”

I slowly looked up. He was already looking at me, calmly and steadily. The kind of look that stripped away every defense I had.

“Because I trust you.”

The air left my lungs.

“And because…” He hesitated for the briefest moment, as if he, too, was making a decision. “I don’t want to keep pretending this is only about the baby.”

“What do you mean?” My heart slammed against my ribs.

Oscar smiled, a small, nervous smile. Nothing like the confident ones I’d grown used to seeing.

“I want to give us a chance.”

The world stopped moving again.

“Oscar…”

“I’m not asking you to answer right now.” His voice was quiet. “But I think we’ve spent months building something neither of us ever planned. And…”

He exhaled.

“I like you, a lot.”

It wasn’t a perfect confession, It wasn’t rehearsed. That was exactly why it hurt so much. Because every word was completely sincere.

My own confession was still trapped inside my throat, the truth was fighting to come out. I could end everything right there, tell him the truth, let him walk away, let him hate me and ever see me again.

It was the right thing to do.

Then I thought about Caleb.

About the baby.

About the family Oscar had already started building long before our child—the child he believed was ours—had even been born.

And I chose to be a coward.

Again.

Slowly, I reached across the center console until my fingers slipped between his.

“I want to give us a chance too.”

I watched every ounce of tension leave his body.

He smiled, a smile so open, so genuine, that it made me want to burst into tears.

Because Oscar had just begun the most honest relationship of his life.

And I’d just built it on the biggest lie of mine.

(…)

The months that followed passed with a speed Oscar found almost unfair.

The season began before he ever felt ready for it.

Suddenly, his life was split once again between airports, engineering meetings, simulator sessions, hotels that all looked the same, and race weekends where time seemed to move twice as fast as it did for everyone else.

Only now, there was one difference. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he wasn’t simply returning to a place.

He was returning to someone.

Video calls with Y/N became part of his routine before either of them even realized it. Sometimes they lasted an hour, sometimes barely five minutes before one of them had to rush off again.

They never talked about anything particularly important.

Oscar wanted to know if she’d eaten breakfast, whether the nausea had eased, if the baby was still kicking every time she tried to sleep.

Y/N, meanwhile, always ended up asking about the race weekend, the car, or some ridiculous paddock story that would make her laugh.

It was enough.

Whenever the calendar gave him a few days off, Oscar never stayed at his apartment.

He didn’t use the time to rest, he flew straight to Y/N.

Little by little, a few changes happened without either of them noticing. A change of clothes appeared in one of her drawers, then a toiletry bag in her bathroom, then a phone charger beside her bed.

Neither of them ever talked about the exact moment her apartment had started feeling like Oscar’s home too. It simply happened and he liked it far too much to question it.

The days they spent together were rarely extraordinary.

Oscar slowly realized happiness looked nothing like he’d always imagined, it wasn’t standing on the podium after a good race, it wasn’t trophies, it wasn’t hearing the national anthem after a victory.

It lived in much smaller things.

Making breakfast while Y/N was still asleep, arguing for ten minutes because she insisted she could carry the grocery bags herself, starting a movie neither of them ever finished because they always fell asleep halfway through.

Going with her to doctor’s appointments while pretending he wasn’t terrified every time the obstetrician took a little longer than usual to answer a question.

And, most of all listening to their baby’s heartbeat, it never stopped amazing him.

As the pregnancy progressed, every ultrasound showed a little boy who seemed more restless than the last.

Oscar made the same joke every single time.

“He definitely inherited your inability to stay still.”

Y/N always rolled her eyes. But he’d always catch the smile she tried to hide, that was enough to make him repeat it at every appointment.

The handful of people who knew about the pregnancy noticed the changes in him long before he did.

Lando claimed he smiled too much.

His race engineer swore he’d never seen Oscar leave the circuit so quickly on Sunday afternoons.

His physiotherapist complained that he spent every recovery session replying to text messages.

Oscar denied all of it, even though he knew they were right. Because these days, the first thing he did after every Grand Prix wasn’t check the final standings.

It was look for Y/N’s name on his phone.

And every time she sent him another picture of her growing bump, he felt the same ridiculous mixture of pride and anxiety.

Sometimes, when the time difference wasn’t working against them, Y/N would rest her phone on top of her belly so he could talk to the baby.

Oscar always felt ridiculous for the first few seconds.

“Hey, little man.” Then he’d start rambling.

How practice had gone.

What city he was visiting.

How he couldn’t wait to show him all those places someday.

He never knew if any of it mattered. Yet somehow, he always ended up talking far longer than he’d intended.

One night, after ending one of those calls, he sat staring at the dark screen of his phone for several minutes.

He couldn’t remember exactly when it had happened, when he’d stopped thinking of the baby as an unexpected responsibility or when he’d started imagining what it would feel like to hold him for the first time.

He only knew one thing.

He was waiting for that day with an excitement he’d never believed himself capable of feeling.

And without even realizing it, he’d begun looking forward to coming home with that same excitement.

Because he wasn’t just coming back for his son anymore.

He was coming back for her.

The two weeks between Silverstone and Spa had always been one of Oscar’s favorite stretches of the season.

They weren’t exactly a holiday, there were still simulator sessions, team meetings, and training. But at least he got to sleep in the same bed for several nights in a row.

Which meant going home to Y/N.

He spent almost the entire race thinking about the name they still couldn’t agree on. She insisted they should wait until they saw the baby’s face, Oscar had spent the past three weeks making lists in the Notes app on his phone. She hated every single suggestion.

He smiled to himself inside the cockpit as he remembered their latest argument.

“I’m not letting our son be named after a Formula One driver.”

“I never said that.”

“Oscar, your first suggestion was literally Ayrton.”

“It was just a suggestion.”

“It was a felony.”

His race engineer’s voice pulled him back to reality as he crossed the finish line.

He finished the race.

Completed the interviews.

Posed for the photos.

Nearly an hour passed before he finally had his phone back in his hands.

Seventeen missed calls, every single one from Y/N’s mother.

His stomach dropped instantly.

He called back before he’d even reached the hospitality suite.

“What happened?”

The answer came through tears.

“Oscar… Y/N’s gone into labor.”

Later, he wouldn’t remember how he’d made it to the airport. He would only remember what it felt like not to breathe for the entire flight.

Thirty-three weeks, they still had more than a month left. It was far too early.

When he arrived at the hospital in Monaco, he found Y/N’s mother sitting outside the operating room. Her eyes were swollen and red.

“Where is she?”

“They took her in about twenty minutes ago.”

Oscar could only nod.

The next few hours blurred together.

One doctor walked in, another walked out.

Words he’d never imagined learning. Prematurity, underdeveloped lungs, incubator, neonatal intensive care, risk.

Everything sounded distant, almost unreal.

Until someone finally appeared.

“You can see him now.”

Oscar didn’t ask about the baby first, he asked about Y/N. He needed to hear she was okay before he could think about anything else.

Only after the doctor assured him she was stable did his legs finally stop shaking. Then they led him into the NICU.

The silence there felt different. Not peaceful, it was a silence interrupted by machines, a silence where hope was measured in beeps.

And then he saw him, so impossibly small that it didn’t seem real.

His son barely occupied a corner of the clear incubator. Tiny wires covered his chest, a breathing mask hid half his face. His entire hand was smaller than Oscar’s thumb.

Something inside him shattered.

This wasn’t how he’d imagined it.

There were no tears of joy.

No hugs.

He couldn’t even hold him.

All he could do was look through a sheet of glass.

“He’s going to need time.” The nurse’s voice barely reached him.

Oscar nodded, his eyes never left the incubator. He had never been so afraid. Not of losing a race, not of losing a championship.

Real fear.

The kind that makes you bargain silently with the universe.

“Please. Anything, just let him stay.”

Y/N woke several hours later. The first thing she asked about was the baby, the second was Oscar.

He was sitting beside her bed, completely exhausted. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept.

When their eyes met, neither of them spoke. They simply reached for each other’s hands.

It was enough.

The following days settled into a strange routine. Every morning began exactly the same way.

Visit Y/N.

Walk together to the NICU.

Sit for hours watching their little boy struggle to do things every other baby did without thinking.

Breathe.

Sleep.

Grow.

Oscar learned the meaning behind every sound the monitors made. Some stopped frightening him, others became even more terrifying.

The nurses showed him how to slip one finger through the opening in the incubator so the baby could hold it. The first time those tiny fingers wrapped around his, Oscar cried.

He simply cried.

Then came the day he’d been dreading.

He had to leave, Spa was waiting and he couldn’t miss it, even if every part of him wanted to stay.

Before leaving for the airport, he stopped by the NICU. He rested a hand against the incubator.

“I’ll be back before you know it.” He felt ridiculous talking to a baby who probably couldn’t even hear him. Still, he kept going. “So don’t even think about doing anything while I’m gone.”

Then he kissed Y/N’s forehead.

“Call me if anything changes.”

“Oscar…” She squeezed his hand. “Go, I’ll be here for both of us.”

It was the hardest flight of his entire career.

Spa went well, far too well for someone whose mind had never really left Monaco. Every time a session ended, he reached for his phone before he even took off his helmet.

The pictures Y/N sent him became his fuel.

One less tube.

Twenty more grams.

Small victories, enormous victories.

Then came Zandvoort.

Oscar did exactly the same thing.

He raced, finished every media obligation and boarded the first flight home while he was still wearing his race suit. Because there was nowhere else in the world he wanted to be.

When he walked back into the NICU, one of the nurses smiled.

“I think someone’s been waiting for you all day.”

The baby no longer needed breathing support, he was simply sleeping.

Stronger.

Peacefully.

Oscar held him for the first time that afternoon. He weighed even less than Oscar had imagined and yet he had never held anything that felt so enormous.

Several weeks later, they were finally discharged. Walking out of the hospital carrying a car seat in one hand and the hospital bag in the other felt infinitely more terrifying than making his Formula One debut.

Because no one ever teaches you how to become a family.

The hospital doors simply closed behind them and suddenly they were alone.

Him.

Y/N.

And a baby who trusted two people who were still figuring everything out as they went.

Oscar watched as Y/N carefully tucked the blanket around their son.

He smiled.

For the first time since Silverstone he felt like he could finally breathe again.

(…)

The months that followed became the calmest chapter of Oscar’s life and, without question, the happiest.

It didn’t happen overnight.

Happiness arrived quietly, almost without announcing itself.

First came learning to tell the difference between each of the baby’s cries, then discovering there were far more kinds of exhaustion than he’d ever thought possible.

Getting three uninterrupted hours of sleep started to feel like a luxury and somehow he had never woken up happier.

Every trip back to Monaco stopped feeling like he was returning to an apartment.

He was coming home.

Walking through the front door meant hearing Y/N remind him to wash his hands before he was even allowed to greet the baby.

It meant finding bottles drying beside the sink.

Tiny blankets draped over the back of the sofa.

Baby toys scattered across the living room floor.

And a little boy who, despite being far too young to understand who had just walked in, always seemed to settle the moment he heard Oscar’s voice.

Oscar never admitted to anyone that he’d developed a habit of picking him up even when he was fast asleep. Just to make sure he was really there, that he was breathing, that he was okay.

The ghosts of the NICU took months to leave him.

The season was still exhausting. But now there was a routine that made everything easier. After every session, before even sitting down with the engineers to review the data, he’d reach for his phone.

There was always a new picture waiting for him.

The baby asleep on Y/N’s chest.

Tiny fingers wrapped around one of hers.

A strange little expression that Y/N insisted was definitely a smile.

Oscar inevitably ended up showing those pictures to half the garage.

“I think little Oscar looks just like you.”

Yes.

In the end, they’d named him Oscar. He’d tried to hide how much it meant to him, but the moment Y/N told him she’d decided on his name—his name—his chest had filled with a kind of pride he’d never experienced before.

“No,” he’d reply immediately.

“He has your nose.”

“Impossible.”

“Oscar, it’s literally your nose. Just… miniature.”

He always laughed, he liked believing it.

Whenever he managed to string together a few days off, the three of them disappeared. Sometimes they drove through the south of France, other times they simply wandered along the Italian coast without any destination in mind.

They never made elaborate plans.

A quiet café, a walk by the sea while the baby slept peacefully in his stroller, ice cream for the two of them, conversations about absolutely nothing.

Oscar discovered he could listen to Y/N talk for hours, even when she insisted she was rambling.

He loved watching her become a mother. There was something deeply endearing about how she worried over absolutely everything.

She checked the temperature of every bottle three separate times, she woke at the slightest sound, she could distinguish between different kinds of crying with a level of accuracy Oscar was convinced bordered on witchcraft.

He liked teasing her that their son already had better reflexes than half the drivers on the grid.

She always rolled her eyes, but she never stopped smiling.

It happened during one of those walks.

They’d gone down to the Monaco harbor.

The baby was sleeping peacefully in the stroller, Oscar had one hand resting on the handle and the other intertwined with Y/N’s.

Everything felt wonderfully ordinary, until it didn’t. He felt her fingers suddenly tighten around his.

He looked at her.

Her smile had disappeared, she was staring straight ahead, completely frozen. Oscar followed her gaze, a man was walking toward them.

Dark hair, sunglasses. He didn’t seem particularly interested in them and yet Y/N had gone completely pale.

“Are you okay?”

She took far too long to answer.

“Yeah.” She forced a smile. “I just… thought I saw someone.”

Oscar glanced back at the stranger.

As the man walked past them, he lifted his head for only a second. His eyes met Y/N’s.

That was all it took, because the last traces of color drained from her face. Oscar caught the briefest flicker of recognition before the man continued walking without stopping.

He waited a few seconds.

“Did you know him?”

Y/N swallowed.

“Years ago.” Her answer came too quickly. “Nothing important.”

Too rehearsed.

Oscar didn’t press her. But he couldn’t forget the expression he’d seen on her face.

It wasn’t fear, it was something else, something he couldn’t quite name.

The question lingered with him for days.

Had there been someone before him?

A relationship that had ended badly?

Someone who could still hurt her?

More than once, he considered asking. Late at night, when they were lying in bed together.

But he never did. If Y/N wanted to tell him, she would when she was ready and if she wasn’t, he would learn to respect her silence. Just as she had always respected his.

By the time December finally arrived, Oscar felt something he’d never experienced at the end of a season before.

An almost unbearable urge to go home.

The final flight back from Abu Dhabi felt endless. As the plane crossed the Mediterranean, he found himself scrolling through the photos on his phone for what had to be the hundredth time.

More than half of them were of the baby. The rest, without even realizing it, were of Y/N.

Sleeping on the sofa, laughing with her hair completely messy, walking along the beach with their son in her arms, making coffee first thing in the morning.

Pictures he’d taken without her noticing. Because he couldn’t understand how someone could look so beautiful doing such ordinary things.

He locked his phone and smiled to himself.

If someone had told him a few months earlier that one night of casual sex would become the best thing that had ever happened to him, he probably would’ve laughed. Now, he wouldn’t change a single thing.

He’d found so much more than a partner.

So much more than a son.

He’d found a home.

Oscar knew he wasn’t searching for anything anymore. Everything he’d ever believed was missing from his life, fell asleep every night beneath the same roof as him.

(…)

A little over a month had passed since the season ended.

For the first time in years, Oscar didn’t have a schedule telling him where he had to be the next morning. His days no longer began with an alarm before sunrise, now they started with the sharp cry coming throug the baby monitor.

He had never been so grateful to lose sleep.

Most mornings, he woke before Y/N did, lifted little Oscar into his arms, and wandered quietly through the apartment while talking to him about absolutely anything.

He told him what the paddock was like, what a Formula One car smelled like fresh out of the garage, which circuit he hoped to take him to first when he was old enough. The baby, blissfully unaware of every word, usually fell asleep with his cheek pressed against Oscar’s chest.

Those moments had become his favorite part of every day.

So when one morning the crying sounded different he knew immediately something was wrong.

It wasn’t hunger.

It wasn’t exhaustion.

It was weak and broken, like every breath took more effort than the last.

Oscar sat upright instantly, Y/N was already doing the same. They reached the crib at almost exactly the same time.

The baby’s face was bright red. His tiny chest caved in slightly every time he inhaled.

“Oscar…” Y/N’s voice broke almost immediately.

Oscar picked him up as carefully as he could. He was burning with fever.

There was nothing to discuss. Twenty minutes later, they were walking into the emergency department.

The next few hours dragged endlessly but Oscar never left the bedside.

One hand rested gently against the baby’s back, the other held Y/N’s hand so tightly it almost hurt. He needed to feel both of them there, needed to know neither of them was disappearing.

Eventually, one of the pediatricians approached.

“He has bronchiolitis, we’d like to keep him for observation for a few hours to see how he responds to treatment. We’ll also run some routine blood work while he’s here.”

Oscar barely heard the rest, the only thing that mattered was that the doctor didn’t sound alarmed. That had to be enough, at least he tried to convince himself it was.

It was well past midnight when a nurse returned carrying a folder full of lab results. Y/N had stepped out to grab coffee, so Oscar accepted them himself.

“Everything looks encouraging so far,” the doctor said as he flipped through the pages. “His inflammatory markers are consistent with a viral infection…”

Oscar nodded automatically. His attention drifted for just a second.

Blood type: B positive.

He frowned and looked again.

B positive.

Something strange settled in his chest. He remembered Y/N’s blood type perfectly. He’d seen it months earlier when she’d been admitted during the pregnancy.

A negative.

And his… O negative.

His eyes dropped back to the page.

B positive.

No, he had to be remembering wrong, he had to be.

The doctor kept talking, but Oscar didn’t hear another word. A memory surfaced with startling clarity.

The hospital file resting on the bedside table. Y/N’s blood work. Her blood type underlined across the top of the page. It wasn’t vague, It was crystal clear.

His heartbeat quickened.

“Is everything alright?” the doctor asked.

Oscar looked up immediately.

“Yes.” He forced a smile. “I’m just… tired.”

He didn’t say a single word on the drive home, Y/N assumed he was still worried about the bronchiolitis. He let her believe it, because the alternative sounded too absurd to even say out loud.

He barely slept that night.

For hours he searched the internet.

Blood type inheritance, genetic compatibility, exceptions, rare cases. Every source said exactly the same thing, parents with blood types O and A could not have a child with blood type B.

He closed his phone. But five minutes later, he opened it again.

He searched the exact same thing, like the internet might change its mind.

It didn’t.

Over the following days, he tried desperately to convince himself there had to be another explanation.

A laboratory error, a mislabeled sample, a clerical mistake.

Anything, anything except the possibility slowly taking root inside him.

Every time he looked at Y/N, guilt stabbed at him. Because he was doubting her, the woman he’d trusted more completely than anyone else in his life, the woman he’d defended against his own team, the woman for whom he’d refused a DNA test without thinking twice.

The thought made him sick. He wanted to ask her, sit her down, tell her something wasn’t adding up. But every time he tried, little Oscar would laugh from his play mat and everything inside him fell apart again.

The decision came on an ordinary afternoon.

There wasn’t a dramatic argument, no final straw, only exhaustion. He needed answers, even if those answers destroyed everything else.

He waited until Y/N left for the supermarket.

He took one of the sterile cotton swabs from the medicine cabinet.

Little Oscar sat happily in his high chair, chewing on a silicone toy.

“I’m sorry…” Oscar whispered.

He wasn’t even sure which one of them he was apologizing to.

With shaking hands, he gently swabbed the inside of the baby’s cheek. Then his own. He packaged both samples, mailed them that same afternoon and began the longest five days of his life.

The email arrived while he was alone in the apartment. Y/N had taken the baby for a walk.

The message remained open for nearly ten minutes. He couldn’t bring himself to click the attachment. Finally, he took a deep breath.

Opened it.

Read it once.

Then again.

Then a third time.

Probability of paternity: 0%.

The air vanished from his lungs.

No.

He read it again, but the words hadn’t changed.

Zero percent.

A loud ringing filled his ears, his legs gave out beneath him. He found himself sitting on the living room floor without remembering when he’d fallen.

The screen continued glowing in front of him.

Zero percent.

His son, the little boy he’d carried through sleepless nights. The one he’d learned to soothe with nothing more than the sound of his voice, the one who reached for him every time he cried, the same little boy he’d prayed over in front of an incubator convinced he might lose him.

Wasn’t his.

And Y/N… Y/N had known all along.

Every conversation crashed into him all at once.

“You can get a paternity test if you want.”

“You were the only person I’d been with.”

“I just need your support.”

He had trusted her, completely. He had defended her even when everyone else told him not to, he had built an entire family on that trust.

Now every memory carried a crack through it, not because the love had been fake, but because the beginning of it had.

The sound of keys turning in the lock snapped him back.

He looked up.

He heard Y/N laughing, then the baby’s cheerful babbling.

For one impossible second, he wished time would rewind five minutes, that the email had never arrived, that he could still be the man impatiently waiting for his family to come home.

The door opened.

Little Oscar immediately reached both arms toward him with the brightest smile imaginable.

That was when the real pain hit.

Because even knowing the truth the only thing Oscar wanted to do was run to his son.

The following weeks were the hardest of his life.

Not because he’d stopped loving Y/N, not because he looked at little Oscar differently.

Quite the opposite.

That was exactly the problem, nothing had changed and somehow everything had. Whenever the baby reached for him, Oscar picked him up exactly as he always had.

He made his bottles.

Bathed him.

Rocked him to sleep against his chest while slowly rubbing his back.

During those moments he almost forgot the laboratory report. But the moment silence settled over the apartment again the betrayal returned, like a shadow.

Reminding him that every piece of happiness they’d built together had been born from a lie.

Y/N began noticing something was wrong. Not because Oscar stopped taking care of them, he never could have done that, he still asked if she’d eaten breakfast, still got up whenever the baby cried in the middle of the night, still kissed her before leaving the apartment.

There was simply… Distance now, almost invisible.

A sadness that hadn’t existed before.

He smiled less, spent too long staring out the window. Sometimes she’d catch him sitting quietly while little Oscar played on the living room rug.

Watching him, like trying to memorize every feature of his face. It frightened her, because she knew guilt better than anyone and guilt always found its way to the surface eventually.

“What’s going on?” She asked one evening after dinner.

The baby was asleep. Oscar was rinsing the dishes when she walked up behind him.

“Nothing.”

He didn’t turn around.

“Don’t lie to me.”

He placed the plate carefully into the sink.

Took a slow breath.

“I’m just tired.”

“That’s not true either.”

Oscar closed his eyes, just for a second. He didn’t want to fight.

Not with her.

Not here.

“Y/N…”

“You’ve spent weeks acting like I’ve done something terrible.”

His heart lurched.

She couldn’t know.

She couldn’t.

“Is there someone else?”

He turned around immediately.

“What?”

“Because if there is—”

“You really think I’d do that to you?” His voice came out louder than he’d intended.

Both of them froze. A second later the baby’s crying shattered the silence. Oscar felt the weight of the entire world crash down on him.

Without another word, he walked to the nursery. Little Oscar was crying desperately in his crib.

Oscar lifted him into his arms with almost frantic care.

“I’m sorry…” He rocked him gently. “So, so sorry…” The baby buried his face against Oscar’s neck.

Oscar suddenly wanted to cry harder than he ever had before. He never wanted his son to associate his voice with fear.

That night, he left the apartment. He needed air, so he called Lando. An hour later, they were sitting in a nearly empty bar.

Neither of them spoke much.

“You look like hell.”

Oscar laughed humorlessly.

“Thanks.”

“I’m serious.” Lando set his glass on the table. “What happened?”

Oscar stared silently into the amber liquid. He wanted to tell him, needed to tell someone, but the words refused to come.

“I’m just…” He sighed. “I’m going through something.”

Lando didn’t push, he knew Oscar well enough to recognize when silence was the kinder choice.

The conversation drifted aimlessly until, out of nowhere, Lando spoke again.

“You know what your problem is?”

Oscar looked up.

“You always try to fix everything.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Sometimes.” Lando smiled sadly. “Because some things can’t be fixed.”

He took another sip of his beer.

“You just have to decide whether you can live with them.”

Oscar stayed quiet.

“There are people worth loving despite all the stupid mistakes they’ve made, and there are people who aren’t. In the end, it all comes down to one question.” Lando looked directly at him. “What weighs more? The worst thing they’ve ever done or everything good they’ve done since?”

That question stayed with Oscar the entire drive home. He drove without music, without turning on the radio.

Just thinking.

About Y/N, about the night they met, the pregnancy, the lie. Then he thought about the woman she’d become, the mother who stayed awake all night whenever the baby had a fever, who forgot to eat because she was too busy taking care of him, who still searched for Oscar’s hand in her sleep.

He thought about little Oscar, the incubator, his first smile, the clumsy little “Dada” every time Oscar walked through the front door.

And finally, he admitted something he’d been refusing to accept for weeks.

The DNA test hadn’t really changed anything, it had only changed one word.

Biological.

That was all.

Because father… He already was one. He had been from the moment he’d chosen to stay.

From the first ultrasound.

The first night in the NICU.

The first time that little boy had fallen asleep in his arms.

No piece of paper could take that away.

Yes, Y/N had betrayed him. She had stolen his chance to choose and that pain would probably never disappear, but he also knew something else, if she’d come to him that day, told him the truth, and asked whether he’d be willing to raise a child who wasn’t biologically his, he was almost certain his answer would’ve been exactly the same.

“I’m not leaving either of you.”

The difference was, she had never believed he was capable of saying yes, and somehow that hurt even more than the DNA test.

When he parked outside the building, he made a decision. He wasn’t going to punish her for a secret she didn’t even know he’d uncovered. He wasn’t going to turn their home into a place filled with silence, he wasn’t going to let little Oscar grow up surrounded by broken glances and unspoken resentment.

If one day Y/N found the courage to tell him the truth, he would listen, and if that day never came he would take that secret to his grave.

Because some things mattered more than being right.

He had a family and he would protect it with everything he had.

He climbed the stairs in silence. When he opened the apartment door, he found Y/N asleep on the sofa. The baby was lying peacefully on her chest, they were breathing in perfect rhythm.

Oscar stood there for several long seconds, then he quietly set his keys down and walked over.

Knelt in front of them and, with all the care in the world, wrapped both of them in his arms.

Y/N stirred slightly, her eyes fluttered open.

“Oscar?”

He buried his face in her hair. Then gently kissed the top of little Oscar’s head.

“I love you.” He didn’t say anything else.

He didn’t need to. He had finally realized that love doesn’t always begin with the truth.

But it can survive it.

And he intended to prove that every single day for the rest of his life.

(…)

I'd come to realize that guilt was a strange creature. It never truly disappeared; it simply learned how to hide itself better.

There were mornings when I'd wake up to find Oscar asleep with one hand resting on little Oscar's waist, and I'd manage to convince myself that maybe... maybe everything was going to be okay. That the lie had stopped mattering, that the family we'd built had become too real for a DNA test to destroy it.

Then the baby would laugh, Oscar would lift his head just to smile back at him, and for a few minutes I was happy too, completely, genuinely happy. So genuinely that I could almost forget that every bit of it had been born from the most dishonest decision I'd ever made.

But guilt always found its way back, sometimes it was when I watched Oscar sleeping with our son tucked safely in his arms. Other times, when I heard him proudly tell people that the baby had my eyes and his patience.

There were nights when I'd lock myself in the bathroom just to cry in silence, because I understood that the more time passed, the crueler the truth would become. I wasn't protecting my family anymore. I was condemning them to a much harder fall.

Finding the ring was an accident.

Oscar had asked me to grab a charger from the cabinet in his study. I opened one drawer, then another, and that's when I found the small navy-blue box.

I never meant to open it, I truly didn't. But all it took was a single moment of curiosity.

The diamond caught the light before I'd even managed to lift the lid completely.

The air left my lungs.

I stood there, frozen.

Oscar was going to ask me to marry him.

He wanted to make the woman who had lied to him every single day since they'd met... his wife.

I closed the box with trembling hands.

In that moment I understood with terrifying clarity that I no longer had the right to stay silent. If he was about to make a decision that important, he deserved to make it knowing the whole truth.

Even if that truth cost me everything.

I waited until that night.

The baby was already asleep.

Oscar was cleaning up the kitchen when I asked him if we could sit down.

I think he knew immediately that something was wrong, because he set everything aside without asking a single question. He looked at me and waited.

The words took several minutes to come.

"I need to tell you something." My voice was barely above a whisper. "And when I'm done... you probably won't ever want to see me again."

I watched his expression change.

But he didn't say anything.

I took a deep breath.

"My entire life, I did exactly what everyone else expected me to do. My parents decided how I should dress, who I was allowed to talk to, what was acceptable, what was shameful, what kind of daughter I was supposed to be. And I never had the courage to stand up to them... until one day I did, In the worst possible way."

The tears started falling before I could stop them.

"I started going out, drinking, sleeping with whoever I wanted. Not because any of it made me happy... but because it was the only way I'd found to convince myself that, for once, my life belonged to me." I laughed bitterly. "The irony is almost funny. I thought I was taking my life back, when in reality I was just destroying everything I touched."

Oscar kept listening.

Without interrupting.

"Then I met you... and a few days later I slept with someone else." My hands began to shake uncontrollably. "When I found out I was pregnant... I was such a coward that I couldn't even bring myself to tell him. I knew what kind of father he would've been. I knew my baby deserved better. And then... I thought of you."

My voice finally broke.

"From the very beginning... I knew the baby wasn't yours."

The silence that followed was unbearable.

"I'm sorry. God... I'm so sorry. There wasn't a single day that I didn't regret lying to you. Not one day when I didn't feel like the worst person on earth. But I need to tell you something else too." I looked at him for the first time since I'd started speaking. "I don't regret choosing you, I regret taking away your chance to choose for yourself. Because you... you were the best thing that ever happened to both of us, to me and to Oscar. My son could never have had a better father than you, and I could never have known a man capable of loving me the way you do. I don't expect you to forgive me. I don't even think I deserve it. I just... couldn't keep stealing the truth from you anymore."

The tears blurred my vision.

"I'd understand if you never wanted to see me again. I'd understand if you decided to leave. I'd even understand if you never wanted to see the baby again... because he was never your responsibility."

Oscar stayed silent for a few seconds, then he let out a long breath.

To my complete surprise, he smiled.

Sadly.

"Thank you."

I blinked in confusion.

"What?"

"Thank you for telling me."

I frowned.

I didn't understand.

He lowered his eyes for a moment.

"I already knew."

The world stopped spinning.

"What...?"

"A few months ago, I noticed something in the hospital records. After that... I had a DNA test done."

I couldn't speak.

I couldn't even think.

I just stared at him.

"Why...?" It was the only question I managed to ask.

Oscar let out a quiet, humorless laugh.

"Because I needed to know if I was losing my mind." He paused, lowering his gaze for a moment. "And when I found out the truth... I thought my world had ended. I thought everything we'd built together had been a lie. But eventually I realized I was the one who'd gotten it wrong."

He slowly walked over to me and took my hands in his.

"The beginning was a lie, our life wasn't." He lifted his eyes until they found mine. "Do you know what hurt the most?"

I shook my head.

"It wasn't the DNA test. It was realizing you never trusted that I could've chosen the two of you anyway."

Fresh tears spilled down my face.

"Oscar..."

"If you'd come to me that day and said, 'I'm pregnant with another man's baby, and I'm scared...'" A faint smile tugged at his lips. "I can't promise you exactly what would've happened. But I can promise you one thing."

His fingers tightened gently around mine.

"I never would've abandoned that little boy. And I never would've abandoned you."

I covered my mouth with both hands.

He kept speaking.

"Eventually, I understood that you didn't lie because you were a bad person, you lied because you were terrified. And fear makes people do terrible things, It doesn't excuse them... but it does explain them." He leaned down until we were at eye level. "A long time ago, I made peace with the truth. Because every time I tried to imagine my life without you... I couldn't. I simply couldn't."

He cupped my cheek with one hand.

"I don't love a laboratory result." His thumb brushed gently across my skin. "I love you and I love our son. Yes... our son, because the day he called me 'Daddy' for the first time, it stopped mattering who'd given him his DNA. The only thing that mattered was who'd been there to hear that first word."

I couldn't hold myself together anymore.

I threw my arms around him.

Sobbing harder than I ever had before.

He held me with the same quiet strength he'd always used to carry everything else.

"There's something else."

I pulled back just enough to look at him.

He smiled to himself for a brief moment before disappearing into the bedroom. A couple of minutes later, he came back and stopped in front of me once again.

"I think you accidentally ruined part of the surprise."

I frowned.

Then he laughed softly.

"The blue box."

My eyes widened.

"I..."

"I know."

He knelt down in front of me, slipped a hand into his pocket, and pulled out the very same ring.

His eyes were already filled with tears.

"I don't want to marry the woman who never makes mistakes." He swallowed before continuing. "I want to marry the woman who, even after making the biggest mistake of her life, found the courage to tell me the truth. Because that's love too... choosing honesty even when you know it might cost you everything."

He took a slow breath.

"And if I've been choosing the two of you every single day for this long... I have no intention of stopping now."

(...)

I'd discovered that waiting for Oscar after a race was an exercise in patience.

First came the celebrations, then the interviews, the photographs, the engineers. It always seemed like everyone needed a piece of him before he could finally come back to us.

Little Oscar had developed a routine of his own because of it. Sitting on my hip, he'd watch every movement around parc fermé with almost scientific concentration.

He was fascinated by the flags.

The photographers.

The noise.

The brightly colored helmets.

But most of all... He was fascinated by finding his dad in the middle of it all.

"Where's Daddy?" I asked, even though I knew perfectly well he still couldn't answer.

He frowned as if the question itself were ridiculous. His eyes darted from one side to the other, until he found him.

Oscar had just climbed out of the car. He still had his helmet on when he lifted his head in our direction.

I still don't know how he did it.

There were hundreds of people around him. Dozens of cameras.

And somehow he always found us.

Little Oscar let out such an excited squeal that several people around us turned to look. He started squirming so enthusiastically in my arms that I almost had to put him down.

By then, Oscar was already pulling off his gloves and making his way toward us.

He ignored the photographer trying to stop him.

Ignored someone calling him over for the post-race weigh-in.

Ignored absolutely everything.

He stopped right in front of us, separated only by the barrier.

"Hey there, buddy." He scooped our son into his arms with the effortless ease that only comes from repeating the same motion hundreds of times.

Little Oscar wrapped both arms around his neck immediately. Like that had always been where he belonged.

The photographers' cameras started firing nonstop.

Not because Oscar had won the race. But because the little boy in his arms had somehow stolen every bit of attention away from the winner.

One of the journalists managed to push a microphone closer.

"Oscar, what does this victory mean to you?"

He didn't even look away from the baby. Still smiling, he adjusted the tiny hearing protectors over our son's ears.

"Ask me again once he stops trying to eat my balaclava."

Laughter erupted all around us.

I stayed a few steps behind.

Just watching them.

Oscar looked up.

Our eyes met across the crowd.

He walked over until he was standing beside me.

Little Oscar was still clinging to his neck. With his free hand, Oscar reached for mine and intertwined our fingers without saying a single word.

For a long time, I carried the absurd need to find some kind of balance—a way to make up for all the damage I'd caused.

I realized far too late that guilt has a cruel habit: it convinces you that you're supposed to spend your entire life looking backward. There are still moments when I wonder what would've happened if I'd made a different choice that night.

Then I realize, the answer doesn't matter to me as much as it used to.

Because the life we built afterward stopped belonging to the frightened version of me who believed one mistake could define an entire existence.

It belongs to the woman who finally understands that a life is never defined by the worst thing we've ever done, but by the love we're capable of building after we've had the courage to face it.

The last thing I wanted to do with only two weeks left before classes started again was attend my cousin’s wedding.

But since I was seventeen—and in my family that meant I had absolutely no say in anything—I swallowed my complaints, rolled my eyes, and endured the long drive to the middle of nowhere.

Because nothing screams happy marriage quite like getting married in the middle of fucking nowhere.

By the time we arrived at the villa where everyone would be staying, I was ready to throw myself onto the bed and not get up until thirty minutes before the bride said I do. Unfortunately, my mother had other plans, so we headed off to meet the rest of the family instead.

“I thought we’d never get here,” my mother complained the moment she spotted my grandmother.

“Don’t even get me started. I thought I’d need another hip replacement after sitting in that car for so long,” my grandmother joked, her dry laugh echoing through the room.

A wave of disgust settled in my stomach. Anyone listening would think she was just a funny old woman enjoying the last years of her life. None of them would ever guess she’d spent years making mine miserable.

“Y/N, aren’t you going to say hello to your grandmother?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

I swallowed the sigh of irritation threatening to escape.

“Hi, Grandma.” I gave her a quick, half-hearted hug.

Apparently, it wasn’t enough to satisfy her. She was just about to lecture me when my cousin’s dramatic voice interrupted her.

It was only Wednesday. The wedding wasn’t until Saturday, yet according to my cousin, there were still a thousand things left to do before the groom’s family arrived the next day.

I spent the entire day running around, fulfilling every one of her demands. Every time I considered refusing, my mother shot me a look that promised my funeral would be sooner rather than later.

As far as she was concerned, I should’ve been grateful they’d even invited me. Apparently, after everything that had happened, being included in my cousin’s wedding was the greatest honor I could receive from that side of the family.

By nightfall, everyone gathered outside on the patio after dinner.

Several conversations were happening at once, but one in particular caught my attention. It was between my cousin Rose—the bride—and my cousin Angelina, who was about two years older than me.

“So… he’s really coming?” Angelina asked, lowering her voice.

Rose smiled immediately.

“Of course he is. He’s Carlo’s cousin. Why wouldn’t he come? He’s even one of the groomsmen.”

“And you said he’s single?” Angelina bit her lip, trying—and failing—to hide her smile.

“As far as I know.”

“Well… I hope he’s as handsome as you say.”

Rose laughed.

“Trust me, he is. And he’s loaded too. He’s a driver in a major racing series.”

“Seriously?”

“Mhm. His name’s Kimi.”

Angelina’s eyebrows shot up.

“Guess I’ll have to make a little extra effort this weekend.”

Rose nudged her arm.

“I don’t think you’ll have to. My mother-in-law has been saying for weeks that you’d make the perfect couple.”

They both laughed.

I shook my head to myself.

Another conversation about men. Another conversation about setting someone up with someone else.

I lost interest almost instantly and focused on the glass in my hands instead.

Nothing that happened in this family mattered enough for me to join their conversations. And years ago, I’d learned they didn’t particularly care whether I did or not.

The next morning began as soon as the sun came up.

The villa fell into complete chaos with the arrival of the groom’s family. The most affected by it all seemed to be Angelina, who looked like she was waiting for Prince Charming himself to walk through the door.

As everyone introduced themselves, I limited myself to a polite smile and a handshake. Angelina, meanwhile, kept glancing toward the entrance. Apparently, the guy still hadn’t arrived.

Rose leaned over and whispered something in her ear and Angelina answered by making the saddest puppy face imaginable.

Pathetic.

I slipped away to another part of the villa to get some fresh air. About an hour later, I went back inside to find something to drink.

I poured myself a glass of lemonade. As I took a sip, I noticed a tin of cookies sitting on top of one of the kitchen cabinets. It was far too high to reach, so I dragged over a chair and climbed onto it. I had the cookies in my hand.

Victory was only seconds away.

Then the chair apparently decided it had fulfilled its purpose in life and It snapped beneath me. I braced for the impact, but instead, a pair of hands wrapped around my waist, stopping me just before I hit the floor.

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. My heart threatened to burst out of my chest, and I was certain every trace of color had drained from my face.

My eyes met a pair of warm brown ones staring back at me with the same startled expression.

“Are you okay?” he asked, carefully studying my face for any sign that I wasn’t.

I let out a shaky breath.

“Yeah.” The word barely came out.

God, this had to be the most embarrassing moment of my life. I was standing in front of one of the most attractive guys I’d ever seen, and he’d just saved me from falling off a chair because I’d risked my life for cookies.

“You should be more careful,” he said as he let go of my waist and stepped back. “That could’ve ended a lot worse.”

“Stupid fucking chair,” I muttered, glaring at the broken pieces scattered across the floor.

A quiet laugh escaped him.

I looked down at the cookies still clutched tightly in my hand. I hadn’t even realized I was still holding them.

I lifted the tin slightly.

“At least I accomplished my mission.”

He smiled.

“All this… for cookies?”

“They weren’t just cookies.”

He frowned.

“They were the cookies.”

“I see.” He nodded with exaggerated seriousness “A completely justified near-death experience.”

“Exactly.” For the first time since arriving in Italy, I smiled without feeling like I had to fake it.

He held out his hand.

“I’m Andrea.”

“Y/N.” I shook it.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” There was something oddly calming about him. He didn’t seem like the type to force a conversation just to fill the silence.

His eyes drifted toward the broken chair before returning to me.

“Can I give you a piece of advice?”

“Depends.”

“Next time, try not to declare war on the furniture.”

A laugh slipped out before I could stop it.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

There was a brief silence. Not an awkward one, the kind that happens when two strangers realize they genuinely don’t mind each other’s company.

“Are you part of the groom’s family?” I asked.

He nodded.

“I’m his cousin.”

“That explains the accent.”

He smiled.

“And you?”

“I’m the bride’s cousin.”

“Then I guess we’ll have to survive this wedding together.”

“Are Italian weddings really that bad?”

“No.” He shook his head “Big families are.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” I laughed again.

For a brief moment, I found myself thinking that, under different circumstances, I’d probably like to get to know him better.

Then voices echoed down the hallway.

“Kimi! Where the hell have you been? We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

He closed his eyes for a second, like he’d known this was coming.

“Coming!” he called back before turning to me.

Kimi.

My stomach flipped.

Not Andrea.

Kimi.

The Kimi Rose and Angelina had spent half the previous night talking about.

He looked at me one last time, offering a small, almost shy smile.

“I guess I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

“I guess you will.”

I watched him disappear down the hallway. The moment he turned the corner, I heard an excited voice.

“Kimi!”

I closed my eyes.

Of course.

Of fucking course, it had to be him.

(…)

The rest of the day, my family put on the most painful humiliation ritual I’d ever witnessed. I barely said a word, yet I could still feel my face burning with secondhand embarrassment.

By then, everyone had found out that Kimi—whose full name was Andrea Kimi, hence the confusion—was none other than a Formula 1 driver. Apparently, that earned him a red carpet and the right to have everyone kiss the ground he walked on.

I was genuinely worried my eyes would get stuck from rolling them so much.

Angelina and her parents were by far the worst. They never outright said anything, but the way they hovered around him made it painfully obvious how desperate they were to throw Angelina at Kimi every chance they got.

I simply watched in silence.

Every now and then, I’d feel someone looking at me. Whenever I glanced up, I’d find Kimi already watching me. He’d offer me the smallest of smiles.

I never smiled back.

By sunset, the bridesmaids and groomsmen were called away for the rehearsal. That was my cue to disappear unnoticed. I wandered around the property, lost in my thoughts.

Spending time with my family always left me feeling like this.

Exhausted.

Reflective.

From the outside, we probably looked like a loving family, maybe even a healthy one. But underneath it all, we were rotten.

I ended up beneath a large tree, watching the sun disappear beyond the hills while the first stars slowly emerged overhead.

Small lanterns lined the pathways around the villa, casting enough light that the gardens remained bright despite the growing darkness.

I was staring at the horizon when a familiar voice, carrying that unmistakably Italian accent, pulled me from my thoughts.

“Mind if I sit down?”

I looked up to find Kimi smiling at me. He didn’t wait for an answer before lowering himself onto the grass beside me. He held out a can of soda.

“For you.”

“Thanks.” I accepted it, and we both took a sip.

“So…” He glanced sideways at me. “What are you doing out here by yourself? I thought you’d be at the rehearsal with us.”

“I’m getting some fresh air. My family can be… a bit much.” I smiled faintly. “And to answer your other question… I’m not part of the bridal party.”

“You’re not? I thought everyone seemed really close.” His eyebrows lifted.

“They are.” I looked down at the soda in my hands. “I just don’t get along with Rose’s side of the family. My mom and my sister do, though, that’s why they’re involved.” I shrugged again, deliberately leaving out the rest.

Confusion flickered across his face, he clearly had questions. To his credit, he didn’t ask them. Instead, he tilted his head.

“How old are you?”

I laughed.

It was such an obvious attempt to steer the conversation somewhere lighter that I couldn’t help it.

The conversation drifted naturally after that. We talked about his family, childhood stories, my classes, and what life was like at boarding school in Switzerland.

“You go to boarding school?” His eyes widened. He looked genuinely astonished.

Like children raised in boarding schools were some sort of endangered species.

I laughed. It wasn’t the first time I’d gotten that reaction.

“Yeah, it was my dad’s decision before he passed away.” The smile slowly faded from my face.

Kimi noticed immediately. Without saying a word, he gently squeezed my hand.

Then, just as quietly, he changed the subject. I silently thanked him for it.

We talked until there wasn’t a drop of soda left in either can. Until my throat felt dry from talking. Until my stomach hurt from laughing. Until the night had completely settled around us.

When we finally stood up, we exchanged a warm hug and a pair of quiet smiles before heading our separate ways.

The next morning started just as early as the previous one. The only difference was that the few hours of sleep I’d managed to get had left me in an even worse mood. It wasn’t even nine in the morning, and I’d already argued with both my mother and my sister.

I escaped outside with my breakfast, hoping to eat in peace.

A moment later, Kimi appeared and sat beside me with an amused smile.

“So… How’d you sleep?” He leaned a little closer. “Did you dream about me?”

He was obviously teasing. Probably because the expression on my face made it clear I wanted the entire world to leave me alone.

Unfortunately for my bad mood, It worked. A laugh slipped out before I could stop it.

“Thankfully, I didn’t have any nightmares.” I took a sip of my orange juice.

He clutched his chest dramatically. That made me laugh even harder.

“There you are.” Angelina’s voice made me look up.

She was wearing a white linen dress and her trademark flawless smile. The kind anyone else would’ve mistaken for kindness.

I knew better.

It was the smile she wore right before saying something that only hurt if you knew the context.

“Good morning, Kimi,” she greeted warmly before turning to me. “Your mom’s been looking for you for at least ten minutes.”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” I muttered.

She made no move to leave. Instead, she sat down across from us.

“I didn’t realize you two had become such good friends.”

“We met yesterday,” Kimi answered simply.

“Yes.” Angelina smiled. “Y/N has always had an easy time making friends.”

Anyone else would’ve taken it as a compliment.

I didn’t.

I knew that tone, I knew Angelina and I knew exactly what came next.

“Although…” she continued with a light laugh, “…she does have a tendency to get herself into trouble because of it.”

I felt my stomach tighten.

There it was, the first stone.

“Trouble?” Kimi frowned slightly.

“Oh, nothing serious.” Angelina waved a dismissive hand. “My cousin has just always been… intense.”

Intense.

What a convenient word.

Vague enough to spark curiosity, harmless enough that no one could accuse her of saying anything wrong.

I lowered my gaze to the table, I knew this conversation. First came the joke, then the implication, then someone would ask what she meant, and before I knew it I’d be thirteen years old all over again.

I reached for my glass of juice, ready to leave before it got any worse. Then Kimi spoke.

“That hasn’t been my impression.”

Angelina blinked.

“I’m sorry?”

“We’ve only talked a couple of times,” he said calmly, “but she’s seemed like a genuinely nice person to me, maybe I just got lucky.” He shrugged.

Angelina laughed, this time, it sounded forced.

“Well… You’ll get to know her better.”

“I hope so.” He answered so naturally that, for a second, it almost sounded like he had no idea he’d just contradicted her.

But I knew.

And so did Angelina.

I saw it in the way her jaw tightened for the briefest moment before she smiled again. It happened so quickly anyone else would’ve missed it.

I didn’t.

I’d known her my entire life and she’d just realized that, for the first time, someone hadn’t accepted the version of me our family had spent years telling.

A little while later, I ran into my mother. Judging by the look on her face, she didn’t seem particularly happy to see me.

“Angelina told me you’ve been getting awfully close to that young man she likes.” Her brow was deeply furrowed.

“Mom—” I didn’t get to say another word before she cut me off.

“Don’t say a thing, Y/N. I’m only going to warn you once. I don’t ever want to go through something like this again. God help me and give me the strength to restrain myself from what I’ll do to you if it happens.” Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked away.

My eyes burned with unshed tears.

My breathing became uneven as I hurried toward the side of the house where no one would see me. I didn’t want anyone thinking I was making a scene and giving them yet another reason to make my life miserable.

I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing, trying to keep that familiar pressure from spreading across my chest.

“Are you alright?” A man’s voice made my eyes snap open.

A tanned man with graying hair was looking at me with unmistakable concern.

“Yes.” The smile I offered came out shaky.

“You don’t look alright. Come, sit over here.” He gestured for me to follow him.

With my legs still trembling, I followed him to a small wooden bench nearby. We sat down, and without losing the concerned expression on his face, he gently guided me through my breathing.

After a couple of minutes, my breathing finally steadied, and I could feel myself calming down again.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“It’s nothing.” He gave me a kind smile. “It breaks my heart to see someone as young as you suffering like that.”

My cheeks flushed. I lowered my head, staring at my restless hands.

“What happened to you?” he asked softly. “What could’ve caused you so much pain?”

A quiet laugh escaped me, completely devoid of humor.

“It’s nothing I haven’t been through before.” I forced my best smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll be okay.”

He studied me for a long moment before letting out a sigh of quiet surrender.

“I suppose I’ll choose to believe you.” He offered me a warm smile. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.” I held out my hand.

“Marco.” He shook it gently. “I’m Kimi’s father. I think you already know who he is.”

My eyes widened. Apparently, getting away from him wasn’t as easy as I’d thought.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it,” Marco continued, “but I do want to tell you something.”

I looked up at him.

“Whatever it is you’re going through, you can overcome it.” His voice was calm and reassuring. “No hardship lasts forever. Keep going, and one day you’ll look back and realize you made it through everything you thought would break you.”

He gave my shoulder a couple of gentle pats before walking away without another word.

Marco’s words stayed with me for the rest of the day and the rest of the night. I didn’t exchange a single word with anyone during dinner, and unlike the previous evening, when everyone left for the rehearsal, I went straight to my room.

I didn’t want to see anyone. I didn’t want to feel socially obligated to interact with anyone else.

Finally, Saturday arrived. The day everyone had been waiting for, the wedding day.

My morning started later than everyone else’s. The bride and her bridesmaids had begun getting their hair and makeup done almost as soon as they opened their eyes.

I took my time instead. I sat down with a mug of hot chocolate while I waited for my phone to catch a signal, then slowly started getting ready.

I wasn’t excited about the wedding. If anything, I just wanted this whole circus to be over so I could finally go back to Switzerland.

Even so, I paid special attention to my appearance that morning. When I finished getting ready, even I had to stop and catch my breath.

My dark curls fell freely to the middle of my back, my sun-kissed skin glowed, contrasting beautifully with my deep green eyes, while my lips looked almost the color of a pink pomegranate.

A blue dress hugged my curves delicately, and although my sandals weren’t exactly comfortable, they were beautiful.

The ceremony took place in a small church not far from the villa where we were staying.

While my mother and sister sat near the front as part of the bridal party, I found myself several rows behind them, surrounded by relatives I barely knew.

In a way, that was exactly what my life felt like. My family together. Me, pushed to the edges of it.

I tried my best to look happy, but there were moments during the priest’s homily when something inside me shifted. It wasn’t exactly sadness, it felt more like grief.

Once the ceremony ended, everyone made their way back to the reception tent. The moment we stepped inside, the celebration truly began.

Food and drinks started flowing as the dance floor quickly filled with members of both families. At one point, I spotted Kimi laughing with some of his relatives as they danced together.

He must have felt me watching because he immediately looked back at me, flashing me a wide smile.

I simply looked away without returning it.

The music changed to a much livelier Italian song, and the entire reception seemed to come alive even more. The tables gradually emptied as couples, children, and even grandparents filled the dance floor.

I stayed where I was, absentmindedly stirring the melting ice in my drink.

“And why are you sitting here all by yourself?” I recognized the voice before I even turned around.

Marco stood beside me, a glass of wine in one hand and the same warm smile on his face.

“Because I don’t have anyone to dance with.” I shrugged.

“Well, that’s an easy problem to fix.” He extended his hand toward me. “Dance with me.”

“No.” I shook my head immediately.

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll make a fool of myself.”

“And who said I wouldn’t?”

I couldn’t help smiling. Marco offered me his hand again.

I looked at the dance floor, then at his hand, finally, back at him. He wore the same calm expression he’d had when he’d found me struggling to breathe through my tears.

It was impossible to say no to him.

“Just one song.” I sighed.

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” He helped me to my feet, and together we walked onto the dance floor.

At first, my entire body was stiff and Marco noticed immediately.

“Relax your shoulders.”

I did.

“Now stop staring at the floor.”

I obeyed again.

“And smile a little.” He grinned. “You look like I’m forcing you to do this.”

“Because you are.” I rolled my eyes.

“Details.”

Another laugh escaped me. Little by little, the tension melted away.

Marco talked about anything and everything. How terrible his coordination was, how he always forgot the steps. About the time he had nearly dropped his wife in the middle of a dance.

Before I realized it, I wasn’t thinking about what everyone else might be saying anymore. I was simply having fun.

“That’s much better,” Marco said, sounding pleased.

“What is?”

“You don’t look like a girl waiting for the world to end anymore.”

I felt warmth creep into my cheeks.

Just then, the music changed again. It was one of those traditional songs where everyone switched partners as the dance went on.

Marco raised an eyebrow, an unreadable expression crossing his face. When it came time to change partners, he could have handed me off to anyone.

There were at least six people around us.

Instead, he turned directly toward Kimi. The two of them exchanged a brief glance that lasted barely a second.

Marco smiled.

“She’s all yours.” It wasn’t a question, nor an order. Just a simple sentence spoken with complete ease.

“My pleasure.” Kimi nodded.

Before I could process what was happening, Marco let go of my hand, and Kimi stepped into his place.

My stomach flipped.

“I think my dad just set us up,” Kimi said with a quiet laugh.

I couldn’t help laughing too.

“How embarrassing.”

“A little.”

The music continued playing. Kimi rested one hand gently against my waist, and we began moving to the rhythm of the song. It wasn’t a difficult dance, nor particularly impressive. But somehow, it felt incredibly easy when he was the one standing in front of me.

Our steps fell naturally into sync without either of us truly leading. It simply worked. Like we’d been dancing together for years.

“You look beautiful,” Kimi whispered.

“Thank you.” I smiled. “You look pretty handsome yourself.”

We danced through a couple more songs before I finally gave in to my thirst.

“I’m going to grab something to drink,” I said.

He nodded with an easy smile as I made my way toward the bar. I was drinking a glass of water when my sister appeared beside me. The expression on her face was anything but happy.

“Grandma wants to see you in the kitchen,” she said. “She needs to talk to you.” She shot me one last look—a grimace more than anything else—before walking away.

My heart tightened in my chest, I already knew what was coming. I swallowed hard before forcing my feet to follow her instructions.

When I reached the kitchen, my grandmother was waiting for me. Angelina’s mother stood beside her.

“So,” my aunt said, her raspy voice breaking the silence, “they finally managed to pry you away from that young man.”

“We were just dancing, like everyone else at the wedding,” I replied immediately.

“Such an impertinent little girl,” my grandmother snapped. “If you were half as quick and clever at doing something worthwhile with your life as you are at talking back, you might actually amount to something.”

“But—” She didn’t let me finish.

“No ‘buts.’ Your cousin Angelina is having a panic attack because, thanks to you, she’s making a fool of herself in front of everyone.”

“She’s making a fool of herself because you’re trying to parade her around like she’s a piece of meat. It has nothing to do with the fact that one guy isn’t interested in her.” The moment the last word left my mouth, I knew I’d just signed my own death warrant.

The looks on both my grandmother’s and my aunt’s faces confirmed it. For a moment, my grandmother said nothing. She simply walked toward me, slow but unwavering.

I held my breath.

“You’re an insolent little girl.” Her hand struck my cheek with enough force to snap my head to the side.

Tears immediately stung my eyes. I tried to hold them back but there were simply too many, a few escaped and rolled down my face.

“You have no right to cry,” she hissed. “For years, you’ve been the source of this family’s misery. A little whore like you belongs in hell. We tried to give you a chance, but a pig will always find its way back to the mud.”

She looked me up and down one last time. Then she turned around, took my aunt by the arm, and walked out of the kitchen.

The moment they disappeared from sight everything inside me broke. I sank onto the cold kitchen floor and cried.

I cried like this would be my last day on earth.

I cried like there was no escape from any of it.

And I cried like the thirteen-year-old girl who was still wounded somewhere deep inside me.

(…)

I had no idea how much time had passed. The only thing I knew was that wine tasted a whole lot better after you’d finished half the bottle.

At some point, I’d gotten up from the kitchen floor, stolen a bottle of wine, slipped out of the reception, kicked off my uncomfortable heels, and decided to walk the mile back to the villa barefoot.

The plan would’ve been perfectly fine If I hadn’t gotten a little too enthusiastic with the wine.

Now I was sitting on the curb somewhere between the reception and the villa, too dizzy to take another step without collapsing onto the pavement.

The only things keeping me company were the moonlight, the sound of crickets, and a swarm of moths circling the streetlamp above my head.

I knew that if anyone in my family found me like this, the lecture would be absolute hell. But the truth was that I couldn’t find a single atom in my body that gave a fuck.

Somewhere in the middle of all that chaos swirling inside me, I decided it would be a great idea to start singing.

I was so painfully off-key I couldn’t even compete with the crickets.

The thought made me laugh like an idiot.

I was so caught up trying not to die from my own laughter that I didn’t hear the footsteps approaching until they were less than a yard away.

“There you are.” Kimi’s voice instantly sobered me. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

I studied his face. There was worry in his eyes but there was also something about his expression that struck me as so funny I burst into laughter all over again.

He looked at me somewhere between amused and concerned. Clearly unsure of what was going on, he sat down beside me.

That was when he noticed the wine bottle.

“What are you doing drinking this?” He picked it up, inspecting the label. “You’re seventeen. You’re not supposed to be drinking.”

The concern in his voice hit me so deeply that every emotion I’d been holding back came crashing down at once. One second I was laughing. The next, I was crying.

Kimi immediately set the bottle back on the ground. Without asking questions, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and tried to comfort me.

It was obvious he had no idea what had happened. All he cared about was making sure I was okay.

“Why are you so nice to me?” I asked once my sobbing had finally settled.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” His eyebrows pulled together.

“Because everyone in my family thinks I’m the Antichrist.” A ridiculous laugh escaped me.

Kimi let out a quiet chuckle.

“I think you’re more like the Second Coming of Jesus. The problem is your relatives are fake believers, so they can’t recognize the miracle when it’s standing right in front of them.” He simply shrugged.

I couldn’t stop looking at him.

It made no sense. This boy had walked into my life only two days ago, yet he’d already shown me more kindness and understanding than my own family had in years.

Without saying another word, I grabbed the wine bottle and took another long drink beneath Kimi’s disapproving gaze.

As soon as I lowered it, he gently took it from my hands. Then, to my surprise, he lifted it to his own lips and took a long sip. It felt almost symbolic, as if he was trying to tell me I wasn’t alone in this.

He set the bottle back on the ground before turning to look directly into my eyes.

“You know something?” His voice was barely above a whisper. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks. My heart pounded wildly as I watched him slowly lean closer.

Neither of us looked away. I barely blinked, terrified of what might happen next.

I knew that one small movement could lead to something I’d regret later. But the longer I looked into his eyes the blurrier that thought became.

Finally, I gave in.

My gaze dropped to his lips for the briefest second and that was all the invitation he needed. He closed the distance between us and kissed me.

At first, the kiss was gentle and careful. But little by little, it grew more intense. My hands found his face and his arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer like he couldn’t bear the space between us. We stayed lost in that kiss for what felt like forever.

Then, without warning, my grandmother’s cold, unforgiving eyes flashed through my mind.

I pulled away abruptly.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, breathless. “I can’t do this.”

I grabbed my sandals from the ground. Adrenaline flooded my body. I jumped to my feet and ran toward the villa as fast as I could.

“Y/N!” Kimi’s voice echoed through the empty road behind me.

But I never stopped running.

(…)

I couldn’t sleep that night. The image of Kimi telling me I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, followed by the kiss we had shared, replayed in my mind every time I closed my eyes.

Around four in the morning, I heard everyone returning to the villa. About half an hour later, silence settled over the place once again.

Eventually, I gave up on the idea of sleeping. I got out of bed, took a shower, and decided to go for a walk.

My body was still paying the price for my impulsive decision to drink a bottle of wine the night before, and I figured a little fresh air might help.

Hiking had never really been my thing, but I knew there were a few overlooks nearby with breathtaking views and since it was my last day there, I wanted to watch the sunrise.

At least I’d leave with one beautiful memory.

I’d been walking for a while when I started hearing footsteps behind me. I hadn’t noticed them before because the trail had only just become rocky enough for each step to echo.

When I turned around, I found a familiar face.

Kimi was about fifteen feet behind me, he looked exhausted. The moment he realized I’d noticed him, he stopped walking.

He didn’t greet me with one of his usual smiles. Instead, he wore an expression so serious that I decided not to say anything and simply continued on my way.

For nearly twenty minutes, we walked like that. He kept the same distance between us. Whenever I stopped for a moment, he stopped too.

Eventually, I reached a cliff overlooking the valley. The landscape stretched endlessly before me as the first light of dawn painted the sky in shades of gold and pink. I sat down to take it all in.

A moment later, Kimi finally closed the distance and sat beside me.

“Why did you follow me all the way out here?” I took a sip from my water bottle before handing it to him.

He accepted it gratefully.

“I couldn’t sleep.” He took a long drink before continuing. “Then I saw you leave by yourself so I followed you. I wanted to make sure you didn’t decide to throw yourself off one of these mountains.” He glanced toward the cliffs.

There wasn’t a trace of humor in his voice. I let out an offended scoff.

“Trust me, if I ever wanted to do that, it wouldn’t be here.” I shook my head with a quiet laugh. “My family would hate me even more. They’d probably say I couldn’t even stop bothering them with my dying breath. ‘Of course she’d choose to die dramatically the day after Rose’s wedding.’”

Kimi smiled for a brief second, then the seriousness returned.

“I wish I understood you.” The words came after several minutes of silence. “I know you like me and I like you too. I’ve felt this… whatever it is… ever since I caught you before you fell off that chair.”

He smiled faintly to himself.

My heart stumbled inside my chest. I held my breath.

“But for some reason, you won’t let yourself accept it. I know we’ve only known each other for three days,” he continued quietly, “but for me… that’s been enough to realize I’ve found the woman of my dreams.”

The morning sun slowly climbed over the horizon, bathing everything around us in soft golden light.

“And I know you feel at least part of it too. That’s why I couldn’t understand what happened last night.” He finally turned to look at me. “It hurt. But I know it wasn’t really about me, it was about something inside you and I really… I really want to know what it is.”

For the first time since we’d met, the emotion in his eyes didn’t match the calmness of his words.

I looked at him for a long moment, taking in every detail of his face. He was sincere and deep down I knew he was right about everything he’d just said. So, against every instinct telling me to stay silent, I decided to tell him the truth, my truth.

I turned my gaze back to the sunrise because I didn’t think I’d be able to look Kimi in the face while telling him everything I was about to confess.

“When I was thirteen, my cousin Lina—Rose's sister—and I were very close. She was sixteen, but we had a lot in common, so we spent most of our time together.” I cleared my throat before continuing. “She had a boyfriend named Alex. I got along with him too, although I always kept a respectful distance because, well… he was my cousin’s boyfriend.”

I took another long sip of water, my eyes never leaving the horizon. Kimi remained silent, listening.

“Back then, I used to spend a lot of time playing an online game where you could also meet and talk to other people. One day, a boy sent me a message, and we became friends. I spent hours on that game during school breaks, and eventually we grew close.”

“Or at least what passes for closeness when you've only ever known someone through a screen.” I let out a quiet laugh. “The point is… he started making comments that made me uncomfortable. From the very beginning, I knew they were wrong, so I asked him to stop. When he didn’t, I blocked him. It scared me, but I tried not to think too much about it.”

I pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, as if trying to shield myself from the cold that came with telling a story that, despite having happened years ago, still felt painfully close.

“A few days later, I was walking home from school when I ran into Alex. I greeted him like I always did, but he didn’t look happy to see me. Instead, he immediately started demanding that I unblock him in the game. He said I couldn’t play with his feelings like that.”

I glanced at Kimi and saw the shock written all over his face.

“You can imagine what that felt like. I’d spent months talking to my cousin’s seventeen-year-old boyfriend without knowing it. I didn’t know what to say or how to react and, even now, I still catch myself wondering what was going through his mind when he grabbed my face and kissed me.” I swallowed hard as a familiar knot formed in my throat. “I pushed him away and ran home. I told my mom and my dad what had happened. My mom couldn’t believe it, and my dad called his parents, then my cousin’s family.”

“After the initial shock wore off, my cousin started telling everyone I was lying. She said I’d gotten close to him through the game on purpose, that I’d been the one making advances, and that when he rejected me, I’d gone crazy and accused him of trying to force himself on me.”

I took a shaky breath before continuing.

“The rest of my family believed her. Every single one of them turned their backs on me. They all started saying I was a little girl my parents had failed to control… that I wanted to act like a grown woman.” I shook my head as I remembered their faces. “That had been my first kiss and that bastard stole it from me in the cruelest way possible.”

I wiped my nose with the back of my hand.

“After that, he tried to contact me again. Every now and then I’d see him hanging around my school. He’d approach my friends and ask them to pass messages on to me. It was terrifying and I couldn’t tell anyone because no one believed me.” My voice dropped to almost a whisper as I said the last sentence.

“Lina and Alex stayed together for a few more months until, according to her, he confessed that he couldn't be with her anymore because he was in love with me. He told her that every day he stayed with her felt like he was being unfaithful to me. That I'd somehow cast some kind of spell on him—that he couldn't stop thinking about me, didn't care what anyone else thought anymore, and was willing to fight for us to be together.”

I lowered my legs and turned to look directly at Kimi.

“I’d like to believe any reasonable person would’ve turned against him… but my family did the exact opposite. Instead, for them that only confirmed everything they already believed about me.”

“My grandmother came to my house and slapped me across the face. Right there, in front of everyone, she said God had revealed to her that I was the instrument the Devil would use to destroy our family. That Satan had clothed me in the beauty of the serpent so I could lead others into temptation… so I could become a stumbling block, luring men away from the righteous path.”

“That sounds like psychosis,” Kimi muttered, letting out a disbelieving scoff.

“It probably was,” I admitted with a nod. “But you can imagine what hearing something like that does to the mind of a thirteen-year-old girl. After that, my mother and my sister took everyone else’s side too. My dad was the only sane one, but even for him it became impossible to deal with the rejection his daughter was facing. So he sent me to a boarding school in Switzerland. That was the only way he found to protect me from Alex’s harassment and from the rejection and abuse of his own family.”

I looked back at the landscape, mentally preparing myself for the next part.

“A few months after all of that, my dad was diagnosed with cancer. It was aggressive. He died six months later.” My eyes slowly filled with tears. “To this day, it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to endure. Nothing else has ever come close.”

I paused for a moment.

“The day of his funeral, my grandmother stood in front of everyone and said my father had died from the shame of having a daughter like me.”

The tears slipped down my cheeks, but I quickly wiped them away. I looked at him with a tired smile.

“After hearing all of that… I think you can understand why you and I can’t be together.”

“Your family is horrible.” Kimi’s expression was unlike anything I’d seen before. It wasn’t pity, it was compassion. “They made you carry the weight of something you were the victim of. I can't tell you what I would've done if I'd been in your shoes, because you survived the only way you knew how. And I'm not going to sit here and tell you that being with me will magically heal everything, because it won't. I know what happened to you left scars that run deep. I know your family changed the way you see yourself. But what I don't understand is why that means you can't be with me.”

“What don’t you understand? You know Angelina likes you, don’t you? If my family finds out there’s something between us…” I shook my head at the mere thought. “I don’t even know what they’d be capable of.”

“The fact that Angelina likes me shouldn’t mean anything. This isn’t about her seeing me first and suddenly me belonging to her. That’s not how people work, Y/N.”

“In my family, it is. And going against them would be terrible for me.” I tried to make him understand, but he remained stubbornly firm.

“I don’t give a fuck about your family.” Kimi reached for my hands and held them gently. “If things ever reach the point of no return… you can come with me.”

For a second, I couldn’t find my voice. I couldn’t believe I’d actually heard those words.

“Kimi… it’s not as simple as you’re making it sound. We just met.” I slipped my hands from his and looked anywhere but at his face.

“Y/N, look at me.” He gently turned my face back toward him. “I can’t tell you this will be worth it, because that’s something only you can decide. I’m just asking you to give me a chance.”

“Kimi…” His name escaped my lips as little more than a whisper.

“Give me that chance. We don’t have to tell the world right away. We can wait until you’re eighteen and you’re no longer dependent on your family. When that day comes, if you still think what we have is worth fighting for, we’ll figure it out together. One step at a time.”

I looked at him for several long seconds. His warm eyes searched mine almost pleadingly. They were so beautiful and made me so weak.

Finally, I let out a long breath.

“Okay.” I nodded. “Let’s try.”

Kimi let out a deep sigh of relief, and a smile spread across his face.

He kissed my cheek.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” He kissed my cheek again. “I swear I’ll do everything I can to make you happy.”

Despite all the wounds I carried, not for a single second did I doubt that he meant every word.

(…)

The next day, I returned to Switzerland and my life at boarding school, while Kimi headed to Brackley to take care of a few commitments before the season began.

From the very beginning, we stayed in touch.

Over the following weeks, we texted constantly and spent hours on FaceTime. Whenever I came across a video that reminded me of him, I’d send it to him, and he’d do the same.

A few days before leaving for the Australian Grand Prix, which marked the start of the season, he came to visit me in Switzerland.

I had to perform all sorts of acrobatics and come up with every excuse imaginable to sneak out during the week without anyone at the boarding school suspecting a thing.

Kimi took me around the little villages that surrounded the lake. We wandered through cobblestone streets where time seemed to move a little slower, stopped at tiny cafés to try their chocolate, and ended up sharing a carton of strawberries by the water as we watched boats glide peacefully across the lake.

Later, he drove us to a vineyard stretching across the mountainside. From there, we could see the snow-covered Alps reflected in the water below. We stood there in silence for several minutes, taking in the view, discovering that sometimes the right company made words unnecessary.

At one point, Kimi started taking candid pictures of me. The moment I realized what he was doing, I scolded him for it, but all he did was laugh.

“They’re for the memories,” he’d say, refusing to delete them.

Later, we got lost wandering through the streets of another nearby village. We stepped into a secondhand bookstore where he pretended to be interested in books written in French just so he could make me laugh by attempting to pronounce the titles with an absolutely terrible accent.

Before heading back, we sat on a bench overlooking the lake, arguing with complete conviction that neither of us was ever going to change the other’s mind about whether pineapple belonged on pizza.

Time always seemed to move too fast whenever I was with him. So I found myself constantly finding excuses to delay saying goodbye for just a few more minutes.

Like neither of us wanted to admit that, sooner or later, I’d have to go back to boarding school, and he’d have to start preparing for Australia.

When he finally dropped me off at the entrance, neither of us made any move to say goodbye right away.

We simply stood there, looking at each other.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said with a confidence that made it sound more like a promise than a farewell.

I smiled.

“I hope so.”

I watched him drive away down the tree-lined road until his car disappeared from sight.

Only then did I walk back inside the boarding school.

The months went by, and without even realizing it, I had started to associate the word home with Kimi.

When two races were canceled in a row, Kimi invited me to spend a few days with him and his family. At first, I wasn’t sure. But if I truly wanted a future with him, I had to start getting used to being around the people who mattered most to him.

I was incredibly nervous at first, but I quickly discovered a family dynamic that was calm, loving, and nothing like my own.

Marco welcomed me with open arms, genuinely happy to see me with Kimi. His mother and little sister were just as kind. They kept dragging me along on little girls’ outings, and after a while I found myself looking forward to them.

That year passed so quickly that before I knew it, the first days of August had arrived.

Along with my graduation.

Only my mother came. I had asked her to be there more out of obligation than genuine desire.

After the ceremony, we went out for dinner, and she gave me a beautiful watch as a graduation present.

The following day, Kimi took me to Portugal as his graduation gift to me.

I had to convince my mother it was a girls’ trip so she’d sign the travel authorization.

Just like every other time I spent with Kimi, it was wonderful. We walked for hours, ate far too much, and enjoyed every second of it.

We also took countless pictures to remember the trip by.

When it was over, I returned to Switzerland to start organizing what my life would look like after graduation.

I’d told my mother that before enrolling in university, I wanted to take a preparatory course so I’d have a better idea of what my future degree would actually be like before diving into it.

That was part of the reason.

But it wasn’t the only one.

The first was that I had no intention of moving back in with the rest of my family.

They were just as unbearable as ever, and I refused to let them make my life miserable only months before I finally gained my freedom.

The second reason, was Kimi.

According to the plans we’d made together, once I turned eighteen, I’d move to San Marino and live with him.

I’d thought about it carefully. For a long time and in the end, I’d made my decision.

By then, we were officially a couple.

No one knew. For the time being, it was better that way. Kimi was having an incredible season, and we wanted to keep the focus exactly where it belonged.

My first few weeks back in Switzerland were fairly uneventful. Not much had changed about my routine. The only difference was that I was temporarily living with a friend.

It was Saturday.

Kimi was in Zandvoort, getting ready for the following day’s race.

We had just hung up after spending nearly an hour on the phone. That’s why I was surprised when I saw a message from him only a few minutes later.

When I opened it, I expected a funny video or a random picture. Instead, I found a text that immediately made my stomach drop.

KIMI ❤️: Please don’t look at social media right now.

Kimi should’ve said anything but that. He should’ve known that telling me not to do something was the fastest way to make me do exactly that.

I opened Twitter. It was the quickest way to find out what was happening in the world.

Sure enough It was the very first post on my feed.

boxboxdaily Kimi and his alleged girlfriend 👀

Below the caption were four photos. Two of them showed the two of us together and the other two were candid pictures of me, completely unaware they were being taken.

My heart stopped for a moment. My hand flew to my mouth as a sound that could only be described as pure shock escaped me.

These weren’t pictures taken by a stranger on the street. They were photos Kimi had taken himself.

Private photos.

Which somehow made everything even worse.

How on earth had anyone gotten hold of them?

ME: Why are there pictures of us all over the internet? Aren’t those the ones you took?

KIMI ❤️: Yeah. They’re photos I posted on my private Instagram account. I have no idea how they got out. I’m guessing someone who follows me leaked them.

I sat down on the couch, trying to process what was happening.

Then I made the mistake of reading the comments. Every single one was worse than the last.

That familiar pressure began tightening in my chest again. I closed Twitter and started pacing around my room instead.

The moment my family found out I was completely screwed.

KIMI ❤️: I’m so sorry. I’m going to do everything I can to fix this. My dad and the team are already working on it. Please don’t read anything else online. I don’t want other people’s ignorance getting to you.

To be honest the comments didn’t scare me nearly as much as my family’s reaction did.

That night, I fell asleep with anxiety settling into every cell of my body.

And I had every reason to feel that way. Because the first thing I saw when I woke up the next morning was a message from my mother and a missed call from my grandmother.

MOM: Call me as soon as you wake up. I can’t believe you’re doing this again.

With trembling hands, I decided to call her and get it over with once and for all.

She answered before the second ring.

“So it was true.” She didn’t even bother to say hello.

I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against the window.

“Hello to you too.”

“Don’t change the subject. What’s all this that’s going around on the internet?”

“Mom, it’s not what it looks like.” I let out a sigh.

“Oh, really? Because the pictures seem pretty clear to me.”

“They weren’t published by the press. They were private photos.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

I stayed silent for a few seconds.

“Kimi posted them on a private Instagram account. Someone leaked them.”

“So you are dating him?”

I lowered my head.

“We’ve been seeing each other.”

“And it never crossed your mind—not even for a second—to think about everything this was going to cause?”

“I’m sorry…” The words slipped out almost automatically.

Like apologizing had become my first instinct, even when I wasn’t sure I’d done anything wrong.

“‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t fix anything, Y/N. Do you have any idea what kind of phone call I just got from your grandmother? She’s furious. The whole family is talking about this.”

“I figured.”

“I warned you that I didn’t want to go through something like this again.”

I tightened my grip on the phone.

“I know.”

“Then explain to me why you always end up doing the exact opposite.”

“Always?” I frowned.

“Yes. Always. You always find a way to get yourself into trouble.”

I felt something inside me crack. Something I’d been holding together for years.

“Get myself into trouble?”

“Don’t start.”

“No, Mom. Answer me. When exactly have I gotten myself into trouble?”

There was a brief silence on the other end.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“No. I want you to say it.”

Her breathing grew heavier.

“Your cousin…”

A dry laugh escaped me. Of course, we always ended up there.

“That happened four years ago.”

“That doesn’t change—”

“What doesn’t it change?” I cut in. “That I was thirteen?” My voice trembled.

Not with fear.

With anger.

“That a boy kissed me against my will, stalked me afterward, and somehow I was the one who ended up paying the price?”

“Y/N…”

“No.” This time, I was the one who interrupted her. “I’ve spent years listening to this family talk about me as if I’d done something unforgivable.”

I felt a knot tighten in my throat.

“And do you know what the worst part was?”

She didn’t answer.

“You never defended me.”

Silence. Absolute silence.

“Not once.” I took a shaky breath, trying to hold back my tears. “Not once did you say, ‘My daughter is telling the truth.’ Not once did you ask them to stop treating me like I’d done something wrong.”

My voice broke.

“You chose to stay quiet because it was easier than standing up to the family.”

I could hear her breathing.

Slower now.

Heavier.

“It wasn’t that simple…”

I shook my head, even though she couldn’t see me.

“It wasn’t that simple for me either.”

Another long pause. When she finally spoke again, her voice had lost its sharp edge.

“I… I was just trying to keep things from getting worse.”

“Well, they got so much worse.” The tears spilled down my cheeks before I could stop them. “Because while you were trying to keep the peace with them… I was learning that no one was ever going to be on my side.”

I could almost picture her sitting on the other end of the line, not knowing what to say.

“Y/N…” Her voice sounded different. Quieter and tired.

But for me It was already too late. I wiped my tears away with the back of my hand.

“I have to go.”

“We can keep talking…”

“No, mom.” I slowly shook my head. “We’ve gone four years without having this conversation. A few more minutes aren’t going to change anything.”

I waited.

For some reason, a part of me still hoped she’d tell me I was wrong.

That she had defended me.

That she regretted not doing it.

But she never did, she just stayed silent. So I hung up and didn’t feel even the slightest bit guilty for doing it.

(…)

Later that same day, I found myself anxiously waiting for Kimi’s call after his race.

It came while I was sitting on the couch, staring off into space.

“I’ve got news, love,” he said the moment I answered. “Good news and bad news. Which one do you want first?”

“The bad news.” I answered without hesitation.

Kimi chuckled softly.

“I think I’ll tell you the good news first.”

I rolled my eyes, fighting back a smile.

“Just tell me already. I hate suspense.”

“Alright.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “We know who leaked the pictures.”

My mouth fell open. I immediately sat up straighter on the couch. Before I even had the chance to ask who, he answered.

“It was one of my cousins.”

“What?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t intentional, at least not according to him. After the wedding, he kept talking to your cousin Angelina. During one of their conversations, he asked about our relationship. She told him she had no idea we were together and asked if he had any proof. Like the idiot he is, he sent her the pictures.” He let out a sigh. “I’m pretty sure that after that, she contacted one of those gossip pages and gave them the photos.”

“That bitch—” Kimi cut me off before I could finish.

“Watch your language, Y/N.”

I let out an annoyed groan.

“The point is,” he continued, “it doesn’t really matter anymore. Everyone knows now, so all we can do is deal with it.”

He paused.

“The other thing is… your mom spoke to my dad.”

I shot to my feet.

“What?”

“Yeah. We were just as surprised when she called. They talked for a long time, and in the end, your mom decided to give my dad permission for you to stay with us in Italy until you turn eighteen in a couple of months.”

That shocked me more than anything else he’d said.

My mother… Doing something selfless for me?

It was almost impossible to believe. Apparently, our conversation that morning had affected her far more than I’d realized.

“So,” Kimi continued, “whenever you’re ready, my dad will come pick you up in Switzerland. You can take the course you were planning to do in Italy… if that’s still what you want.”

“It is.” I nodded instinctively, even though he couldn’t see me. “I mean, it moves our plans up a little… but that’s what we’d always planned anyway.”

“Exactly.”

“Alright.” I took a deep breath. “Now tell me the bad news.”

I was already biting my nails.

“Well…” He hesitated. “I guess it’s only bad depending on how you look at it. I had a meeting with Mercedes’ PR team, and everyone agreed that the best thing to do is not address the situation publicly.”

“Okay… and the bad part?”

“The bad part is that they also want us to keep an extremely low profile until the championship is over. No pictures of us together when we’re out, nothing like that. We’ll have to limit ourselves to seeing each other at home. And I can’t say anything to the media, no matter how awful the things they’re saying about you get.”

“Wow.” I leaned back against the couch. “That’s a little extreme… but I think I can live with it. It’s only a few more months.”

“Yeah…” His voice grew quieter. “But it doesn’t make me happy. I know there are sacrifices you have to make if you want to be with someone… but they shouldn’t feel like a punishment.”

My heart softened. Kimi was the most wonderful person I’d ever met and somehow I was lucky enough that he loved me.

So selflessly.

So sincerely.

So deeply.

A few days later, Marco got the paperwork signed by my mother and came to Switzerland to pick me up.

We flew straight to Bologna.

Maggie was by far the most excited to have me staying with them until I moved in with Kimi.

A couple of months later, my eighteenth birthday finally arrived. It was one of the most special days of my life.

Kimi and his family spoiled me with gifts and thoughtful surprises.

My mother called to wish me a happy birthday. There was still a certain awkwardness between us. Our relationship was nowhere near healed but we were taking it one step at a time.

Someone else tried to contact me too.

My grandmother. Unlike my mother, I had no interest in making peace with her. So I blocked her number and went back to celebrating.

A few days later, the season came to an end and with it the restrictions surrounding our relationship.

Our first public outing was a trip to the beach.

We spent almost the entire afternoon walking along the shoreline, competing to see who could find the prettiest seashells and laughing because Kimi insisted he could tell which ones had drifted over from Croatia.

“That makes absolutely no sense.”

“Of course it does.” He grinned. “Trust my talent.”

“Your imaginary talent?”

He splashed a little water at me with his foot.

“Very funny.”

I immediately splashed him back.

Five minutes later, we were both completely soaked.

When we finally got tired, we collapsed onto our towels, staring out at the sea.

Almost instinctively, Kimi reached for my hand. He laced our fingers together.

Neither of us spoke for several minutes.

We didn’t have to hide little gestures like that anymore. We didn’t have to look around before holding hands.

“There’s my two kids.” Marco’s voice made both of us sit up at once.

He was walking toward us carrying three ice creams, wearing an amused smile.

“I figured all that running around the beach would’ve worked up an appetite.”

“Dad…” Kimi laughed, clearly embarrassed.

“What?” Marco shrugged. “I brought one for myself too.”

He handed each of us an ice cream before sitting down a few yards away, giving us our space again.

I stared at mine for a few seconds.

“How did he know this was my favorite flavor?”

Kimi smiled.

“Because Maggie made a list.”

“A list?”

“Yeah.” He started counting on his fingers “Your favorite desserts. Your favorite pizza. Your favorite coffee…”

I looked at him in complete disbelief.

“My family’s a little intense.”

A lump formed in my throat.

Not because of the list but because it was the first time in my life someone had gone to so much effort just to make me feel like part of a family.

Without thinking, I rested my head on his shoulder.

“Thank you.”

He turned slightly to look at me.

“For what?”

“For giving me a home in you.”

A soft smile spread across his face.

“I think I’m the lucky one.”

I smiled too, my eyes never leaving the sea.

A few yards away, a couple was walking along the shore. The woman discreetly lifted her phone.

I didn’t think much of it. I assumed she was taking pictures of the scenery.

Two hours later I realized she wasn’t.

The photos first appeared on an Italian gossip page. Then another account reposted them. Then another.

Less than an hour later they were everywhere.

None of the pictures were scandalous.

None of them were compromising.

In one, we were simply walking hand in hand along the beach. In another, I was laughing while Kimi tried to brush sand out of my hair and the last one showed Marco handing each of us an ice cream while we accepted them, laughing.

The internet did the rest.

boxdarlingbox: The Antonellis literally said, “One more for the family” 😭

leclrfamily: I’m sorry, did you SEE the way he fixed her hair? I’M UNWELL

antogrande: I can’t get over Marco showing up with two ice creams like this is a romantic comedy

grmylove: My love language is officially future in-laws bringing me ice cream

merctonelli: The real hard launch was Marco showing up with the ice creams 😭😭

That last one made me laugh the hardest.

Apparently, the internet was far more interested in the ice cream than in the fact that Kimi and I were dating.

(...)

The first few months of living together felt strangely uneventful. Not because nothing happened, because everything did.

We argued over whose turn it was to buy groceries.

He left his racing suits hanging on chairs instead of putting them away. I complained, he apologized.

Then did it again the following week.

On Sundays when he wasn't racing, we drove to his parents' house for lunch.

Maggie always hugged me before she hugged her brother. Marco kept pretending not to notice whenever Kimi stole food from my plate. And every time we left, his mom reminded us not to wait so long before coming back.

Life became a collection of things that would have sounded painfully ordinary to anyone else.

But to me… they were extraordinary.

One afternoon I was looking for one of my notebooks. Instead, I found an old box I'd never bothered to unpack. Inside were things I'd carried from one place to another for years.

A school ID.

A dried flower pressed between two pages of a book.

And, at the very bottom, a photograph. It was a photo from my first days at boarding school.

I stared at it for a long time.

I barely recognized the girl smiling back at me. Not because she looked different, but because I'd spent years trying to leave her behind, only to realize she'd been doing the best she could all along.

I wondered what she'd think if she could see me now.

Not the apartment.

Not Kimi.

Not Italy.

Me.

Would she believe that one day she’ll stop apologizing for taking up space? Would she believe that silence could stop feeling like punishment? Would she believe that people could know every version of her and choose to stay anyway?

I heard keys turning in the front door.

"I'm home."

I placed the photograph back inside the box, not because I wanted to forget her, but because I no longer needed to carry her everywhere I went.

I closed the lid, stood up and walked toward the sound of home.

Some stories end when someone finally finds love.

Mine didn't.

Mine ended the day I realized I no longer needed anyone's permission to believe I was worthy of it.