Sunday Night
The buzz of the Grand Prix had faded into silence. The track now lay quiet beneath the floodlights, like a lion finally resting after the hunt. In a dim hotel room just off Via Giuseppe Verdi, Sukhman Singh sat on his bed, legs folded beneath him, staring at the screen of his phone.
He had debated it for hours.
The words weren't difficult. The intention wasn't unclear. But something in him had hesitated — because texting her meant reopening a door neither of them was quite ready to walk through.
He inhaled deeply.
Sukhman Singh [22:11]
Congrats on the 4th, Charlotte. That was one hell of a comeback on Lap 14.
He locked the screen and tossed the phone aside.
It buzzed thirty seconds later.
He blinked, unsure whether to pick it up. Then finally did.
Charlotte Reid [22:12]
You.. watched?
Sukhman [22:13]
Was in the stands. Front row with Harinder. You were... umm… different than usual. Precise. Balanced. And focused.
There was a long pause. Dots appeared and vanished multiple times before a reply came.
Charlotte [22:16]
Not every day you get to feel like yourself again.
For a while, I thought I'd lost that spark forever. It's really HARD to be myself here.
Sukhman stared at those words. Something about them — it didn't match her usual cold, clinical tone. It was a shard of something human. Raw.
He typed slowly.
Sukhman [22:17]
I'm glad you didn't.
A few more seconds.
Charlotte [22:17]
That makes two of us.
Another pause. Then a second message, almost as if she hadn't meant to send the first.
Charlotte [22:18]
Thanks. Really. Not many people texts me after what I did last year.
Sukhman exhaled slowly. His fingers hovered, then finally tapped back.
Sukhman [22:19]
We've all made choices. I didn't forget that but I also didn't forget what came after. You didn't let it happen again. That's what it matters.
Charlotte [22:21]
Maybe that's why I still race. Not for podiums. But to make peace with the past.
He smiled faintly. The Charlotte Reid he'd seen in interviews would never admit that.
But this one — this one was real. Even if only briefly.
He didn't push it further.
Sukhman [22:22]
I'll see you on the track in Spain. This time I not only qualifying but also be at the podium. Just watch it.
Charlotte [22:22]
Okay, small guy. Let's make it a fair one this time.
Sukhman [22:22]
As you wish.
---
Scene Shift – Vaayu GP, Admin Meeting Room – 23:00
The hotel conference room had turned into a post-race war room. Charts flickered on the projection screen. Data sheets were piled across the mahogany table. The numbers weren't lying.
Raghav Satyanarayan sat at the head of the table, sleeves rolled up, jaw tight. He hadn't spoken in five minutes. Just stared at the red-highlighted figures on the spreadsheet. One phrase kept echoing across every report:
> Impact of Non-Qualification: Major drop in engagement and sponsor activation.
Across from him sat Maya, arms crossed, frustration evident. Beside her, Rina had a tablet in hand, flicking through real-time analytics.
"We lost over 12% in projected ad-value equivalency this weekend," Rina said carefully. "It's not catastrophic… but two or three more like this? It could threaten our next round of funding."
Maya leaned forward. "It's not just funding. Our brand morale dipped. Sukhman is our face. When he's not there on the starting grid, it's like we lose our heartbeat."
Raghav rubbed his temples. "He was 11th. One-tenth of a second away."
"Yes," Rina said, softer this time. "But brands don't measure tenths. They measure reach. Visibility. Clicks."
Maya's voice sharpened. "We need a strategy shift. Not a panic, not a rebrand — just a recalibration. Highlight Arne. Spotlight Siddharth. Maybe even push Harinder more. The support cast matters when the star's off-screen."
Raghav looked up, the weight under his eyes visible. "You want to dilute Sukhman's narrative?"
"I want to insulate him," Maya replied. "Protect the brand from another absence. He's not a machine. But if we build too much around him… we fall with him."
The silence returned for a beat.
Rina broke it this time. "We can also target regional stories. Leverage on that Harinder guy's humor. Bring back the old YouTube channel. Build a storyline that doesn't just depend on winning."
Raghav finally nodded. Slowly.
"We hold the line," he said. "No more talk of changing faces. But yes… we diversify the story."
Maya offered a cautious smile. "Good. Because we can't afford another Monza."
As the meeting closed, Raghav remained seated. Everyone left quietly, each carrying data — and worry.
He tapped a pen thoughtfully on the desk, then pulled out a note from his pocket.
It was folded neatly. A sticky note, small enough to hide.
On it, written in a looping cursive:
> You need funding for new technologies… or your comeback will fade soon.
Raghav stared at it long and hard… before folding it once more and placing it back into his coat.
Outside, the Italian night deepened. But shadows moved just beneath the glow.