Love on track

The bell above the café door jingled, and Ruby Avelino barely glanced up from behind the counter. The late afternoon rush was trickling in, and she was already juggling three orders in her head. Her apron smelled faintly of coffee and cinnamon, and a thin layer of flour dust clung to her dark ponytail. She exhaled through her nose, grabbed a tray, and called across the counter. “Janine, can you take this iced matcha to table five? My hands are full.” Her colleague, a blonde with a permanent mischievous grin, slid over with practiced ease. “Sure thing, boss lady.” Ruby rolled her eyes. “I’m not your boss. Just hurry before the guy at five starts snapping his fingers again.” Janine snatched the drink, weaving between tables. A few minutes later, Ruby heard her gasp. “Ruby! You need to see this.” Ruby rushed over to know the reason for the excitement she could hear in her voice. “See what?” Janine held up a brightly colored flyer she had pulled from the table. The bold lettering across the top read: “International Racing Championship – Italy. Grand Prize: €150,000.” Ruby’s chest tightened. Racing. Italy. Prize money. She wiped her hands on her apron, heart thumping. Janine’s brows arched knowingly. “ This is a dream come true, Ruby.” Ruby took the flyer, running her fingers over the paper. Her uncle’s voice echoed in her memory, Keep your grip steady, Ruby. Racing is about control, not just speed. She had always loved the roar of engines, the thrill of a sharp turn taken just right. It was more than a passion, it was in her blood. “This, Ruby whispered, could be it. This could be how I help Mom.” Janine’s teasing expression softened. Everyone in the community knew about Mrs. Clara Avelino How her illness had drained the family, how neighbors pitched in but the surgery costs remained far beyond their reach. Ruby had been juggling with part-time jobs. From being a nanny, to cleaner, to working in a factory, but even that barely covered medicine. Janine gave her a gentle nudge. “Well? Don’t just stare at it. Finish your shift, and then go tell her.” Ruby didn’t need more convincing. She powered through the remaining orders with renewed energy. As soon as the café lights dimmed and the last table was wiped down, she untied her apron and rushed home. Her mother was waiting by the window, a knitted shawl draped over her frail shoulders. Clara Avelino’s smile was warm, though you could see how weak she was through her eyes. “You’re late,” she said softly. Ruby crouched beside her chair, holding up the flyer like treasure. “Mom, look! A racing competition in Italy. The prize money is enough to cover everything. The surgery, the hospital bills, all of it! Clara’s smile faltered. “Italy? Ruby, no. I won’t have you running off alone to another country. Racing is dangerous, and….” “Mom, please.” Ruby’s voice cracked, but she steadied it. “I’ve been training since I was a kid. Uncle Manuel taught me everything he knew. This isn’t just about my desires, it’s about you. I want you to be okay.” Her uncle, who had been sitting quietly in the corner, leaned forward. His dark eyes gleamed with conviction. “Clara, let the girl try. She has the skill, and the determination. You know as well as I do that she’s ready.” Clara’s hands trembled. She looked between them, torn, but the weight of her daughter’s desperation and her brother’s reassurance pressed against her resistance. Finally, she sighed. “If I agree, you must promise to be careful. Promise me, Ruby.” Ruby hugged her tightly, inhaling the faint scent of lavender. “I promise.” Two weeks later, the acceptance letter arrived in Ruby’s email. She had been chosen as one of the international participants. She reread it a dozen times, her heart soaring. Her friends gathered that evening at the small park near their neighborhood to celebrate. “You’re going to Italy!” Janine squealed, squeezing her arm. “Your dad would’ve been so proud,” Kim added. Ruby’s throat tightened. She tilted her head back, letting memories flood in, her father’s laughter as he lifted her onto his shoulders, the afternoons spent in their dusty garage tuning engines, the way he always called her “champ.” He had passed when she was barely six, but the warmth of those moments had never faded. “I’ll race for him,” she whispered to herself. “And for Mom.” The morning of departure arrived too quickly. Ruby stood at the bus terminal with her suitcase, clutching her mother in a long embrace. “I’ll call every day,” Ruby promised. Clara smoothed back her daughter’s hair. “Be brave, my girl. And come home safe.” Her uncle clapped her shoulder, his eyes proud. Janine shouted last-minute advice about Italian food and cute boys, making Ruby laugh through her tears. Then the bus door closed, and with a lurch, her new journey began. Italy was overwhelming. The sunlit streets were buzzing with people who spoke languages she barely understood, the scent of espresso and leather filling the air. Ruby kept her nerves at bay with determination. She was able to locate the training center through the help of a kind old man. At the training facility, a tall man with graying hair and a stern expression greeted her and the other arrivals. “I am Mr. Oliver,” he announced. “I’ll be your coach for the competition. My rules are simple. I do not condone coming late for training. You must be available for practice. Respect each other. No form of violence is allowed. Follow instructions, and you may just survive the competition. Is that understood?’ “Yes, sir,” they echoed. He handed Ruby a room key. “Building C, second floor.” “Um, where exactly?" she began, but he was already barking orders at another racer. Everyone seemed too busy to help, so Ruby hoisted her suitcase and wandered the corridors. The main hallway bustled with activity, everyone trying to find their rooms and roommates as it was already getting late. It had been forty-five minutes since she received the key to her room but she couldn’t find it nor her roommate. A narrow side passage at the far-end of the hallway caught her attention. It was strangely quiet, the kind of silence that prickled at the edges of her skin. She hesitated, then followed it, the wheels of her suitcase echoing against the floor. Halfway down, she noticed a single door slightly ajar. Maybe the owner of the room could help her, she thought to herself. Ruby knocked lightly. “Hello? Anyone here?” No response. She tried again, louder this time. Still nothing. Her curiosity outweighed her caution. She pushed the door open. The next instant, she collided with something solid. No, someone. She stumbled back, wide-eyed, as a tall figure loomed over her, shadowed by the dim light of the room. Before she could form words, the stranger’s deep voice cut through the silence. “What are you doing here?”