"I was proud, still am. I saw every win, saw you raise every trophy with a smile on my face. I watched the livestreams in hotel rooms, garages, and bars like this."
Rio looked at him. "Then why didn't you say something? Leave a voicemail at least."
"You were already mad with my existence. I thought I'd mess it up if I tried to reach out."
"You already had." Rio's jaw tightened. "You could've made attempts to fix it."
A silence fell again. Not bitter this time… just tired.
Lap thirty-two.
Norris and Verstappen were neck and neck. The bar erupted with divided shouts and laughter. All around them, guests toasted, half-drunkenly betting money on pit strategies.
But at one table, the only battle was happening in silence, thick even as the bartender refilled their glasses.
