Leo frowned as he watched Ava holding Ethan's hand. He tried to be supportive, knowing she had gone to see Ethan early in the morning. But when he woke up an hour later, a strange restlessness pushed him out of bed.
Before heading to the circuit, he made a detour to Recinte Modernista de Sant Pau, needing to see Ava for himself. That was when he saw her. Just a fleeting glance through the blind curtain. Ava holding Ethan's hand. Tightly. Dearly.
A sharp ache stabbed through his chest. His mind twisted into knots, his thoughts drowning in a mess of emotions. He didn't wait to see more. He turned on his heel, rushed to his car, and headed straight to the circuit.
Yesterday only had light practice and body tests, but today? Today was the preliminaries. And his mind was anywhere but here. He dragged himself to the showers, standing under the scalding water for almost half an hour until his fingers trembled from the cold. Even after stepping out, his head was a storm of uncertainty. 'Was he making the right choice, settling with Ava?'
He forced himself to move, slipping into his red Ferrari race uniform, grabbing his helmet, and heading toward his car. The deafening cheers from the grandstands barely registered in his ears.
The sun blazed over the Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya, the air thick with the scent of burning rubber and the roar of engines. It was just the preliminary round, but for Leo Vargas-Clairmont, every lap felt like a battle— not against the other racers, but against himself.
His grip on the wheel tightened, his focus scattered. Ava. Ethan. Siddharth. The images flashed in his mind like intrusive ghosts.
"Focus, Leo!" Marco's voice barked through the radio.
"You're braking too late into Turn 5—you 're losing traction!"
Leo clenched his jaw, forcing himself to concentrate. But then—too much throttle on the exit. The rear tires spun, the car twitched sideways. He barely caught the slide, but the mistake cost him valuable time.
"Damn it, Leo! Keep it clean! We need this lap!" Marco's frustration was clear.
Leo pushed harder, but the overcorrection in Turn 10 sent him wide onto the runoff. Gravel kicked up behind him.
"Leo, get it together! You 're P19. We need P16 or better!" One lap left. He exhaled sharply, shutting out everything—Ava, Ethan, Siddharth. None of it mattered now. Just the car. Just the track.
On the final push, he nailed the last sector, squeezing every ounce of grip from the tires. As he crossed the line, the pit wall held their breath. P16. Barely. The team erupted in mixed relief and frustration.
"My God, Leo, you made that way harder than it needed to be!" Marco groaned.
Leo pulled into the pit, hands still tight on the wheel. He knew he had messed up—but at least he had another chance. The real race was tomorrow.
That night, he returned to the hotel, finding Ava asleep on the bed. Instead of joining her, he grabbed a few pillows, settled in front of the TV, and forced himself to clear his mind.
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Race Day – The Breaking Point
The next morning, Leo woke up slowly. The race wouldn't start until 2 PM, but the weight in his chest had been suffocating since dawn. As he sat up, he noticed Ava beside him, smiling softly.
"Hi." She mouthed the word.
Leo stared at her. His heart thumped. He loves her.
"How were the preliminaries yesterday?" she asked, resting her head on his shoulder. He shrugged and immediately stood up.
Ava frowned. "Is something wrong?"
He looked down at her, his throat tight. He shook his head and headed to the bathroom.
Ava stood, following him. "I'm sorry." Her voice was small.
Leo stopped.
"I'm sorry that you feel like I'm putting you second. I'm not. Truly, I'm not. Ethan needed me—he's my friend. He saved my life, Leo. I owed him that much. I just want to know he's okay." Ava said.
Leo's hands curled into fists. His heart wanted to believe her. His ego refused. "I need you." His voice came out sharper than he intended. "And I'm your boyfriend, Ava!"
Ava froze.
He never yelled at her.
"I'm sorry, Leo." She reached for his hand, but he pulled away too quickly. Ava's face fell.
He turned to leave, but just as he reached the door, he stopped. Why did it feel like this fight mattered more than any race? For a moment, they stood in silence.
Then, Leo finally spoke." Ava… how much does he mean to you?" His voice was low, controlled, but there was an edge to it.
Ava's brows furrowed. "Leo, this isn't about—"
"I know. But I saw you yesterday morning." He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp hair. "You looked like you 'd fall apart if something happened to him."
She reached for him again, but he stepped back—not out of anger, but out of fear. Fear that, no matter how much she said she loved him, Ethan would always be there.
He closed the door behind him. As he leaned against it, he heard her sobbing. Guilt crawled up his spine.
He made Ava cry.
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Before the Race – A Realization
Leo arrived at the circuit early, but his mind wasn't in the race. His manager kept checking on him, sensing his lack of focus. He excused himself, soaking in a tub to clear his thoughts. But all he could think about was Ava. Their moments together. Their time apart.
Last month, his life had been perfect. Then Ava came in. And suddenly, everything had meaning. And now? Now, he had left her crying.
Cursing under his breath, he jumped out of the tub, threw on his clothes, and rushed to his car. The race would start in an hour, but he still had time to find her. He arrived at the hotel, sprinting to the penthouse.
Empty.
A bitter laugh escaped his lips. 'She must have run to Ethan first thing.' Disappointment settled deep in his chest. He made his way back to the circuit, just twenty minutes before the race began. His heart felt heavy.
As he stepped into his locker room to change, his vision blurred for a moment. His eyes burned. 'Had he ever felt this kind of pain before?' He shook off the thought, pulling on his red Ferrari race uniform. Helmet in hand, he pushed open the door— And froze.
Ava stood in front of him, red-eyed, her face still damp with tears. Leo didn't think. He grabbed her, pulling her into his arms.
She buried her face against his chest. He held her tight. Then, he cupped her cheeks and kissed her deeply. When he pulled back, Ava looked up at him, voice barely above a whisper."I'm so sorry, Leo..."
He stopped her with a gentle touch. "I'm sorry too, baby.
I overreacted."
She gave him a teary smile, and he pressed another kiss to her forehead.
"Leo!" His manager's voice broke the moment. "The race starts in ten minutes—let's go!"
Leo smirked, grabbing his helmet.
As he ran toward the circuit, Ava called after him—"You better win for me."
His chest swelled. For the first time in days, he felt alive.
The roar of engines filled the Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya as the five red lights went out, signaling the start of the race. Leo's reaction was perfect—his car launched off the grid with a burst of speed, his tires gripping the asphalt as he surged forward. He immediately overtook the driver in third, squeezing into the inside line at Turn 1, his reflexes sharp, his mind locked onto victory.
For the first ten laps, he held his position in P2, shadowing the race leader, his eyes flicking between the rearview mirrors and the car ahead. Every move was calculated, every turn executed with precision. His team fed him information through the radio, but he barely registered their voices—he was in the zone, his body moving on instinct, his heart syncing with the rhythm of the track.
Then, the struggle began. By Lap 24, his soft tires were wearing down faster than expected under the scorching Spanish sun. The grip faded, and a slight miscalculation at Turn 5 sent him wide. In an instant, two cars slipped past him. Frustration flared in his chest, but he gritted his teeth, fighting to regain control. Lap 30 saw another driver dive down his inside at Turn 10, pushing him down to P5.
"Stay calm, Leo, " his manager, David, instructed over the radio. "Tires are dropping off. We're switching strategies. Box now."
Leo pulled into the pits, fresh mediums replacing his worn tires. He rejoined the race in P7. His grip was back, but his mind wasn't. The frustration lingered, his hands clenching the steering wheel. Then, the radio crackled again.
"We have a message for you." Marco in seriousness.
Leo frowned. "What?"
A brief pause. Then, her voice. "Leo…" Ava's voice was soft, yet firm. "Breathe. You're not racing alone out there. Everyone's watching. Everyone believes in you. I believe in you."
His heartbeat thundered against his ribs.
"You told me once that the track is where you feel alive, " she continued. "So show them. Show me. Prove them all wrong, Leo." A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. His grip on the wheel loosened, the fire in his eyes reigniting.
"I got this, " he muttered. And he did.
With twenty laps to go, Leo unleashed himself on the track. He took P6 at the end of the DRS zone, P4 with an aggressive move at Turn 10.
By Lap 58, he had set the fastest lap of the race while diving into P3. The grandstands were electric—fans waving Mexican and British flags, chanting his name.
"Alright, Leo, " his manager's voice came through the radio. "Two laps to go. P2 is 1.2 seconds ahead. Go get him."
The final lap was a war. The driver in second defended fiercely, but Leo had spent years perfecting his craft. At Turn 1, he feinted an inside move, forcing his opponent to react.
At Turn 10, he used DRS, drawing alongside. The final corner was his last chance. He braked late, took the inside line, and floored the throttle. The checkered flag waved.
Leo crossed the line 0.3 seconds ahead, securing second place. The roar of the crowd was deafening, his name echoing through the circuit.