Race till the end-formula 1

27

Daniel couldn't concentrate on the conversations buzzing around him. Ever since leaving Amadeus's driver's room, his mind had been elsewhere. It was disconcerting—he was usually the one leading discussions, making sure everyone felt included. Today, though, his frequent "huh" and "sorry, what?" made it clear he wasn't himself.

The end-of-season driver's dinner was a subdued affair this year, stripped of its usual sponsor-laden extravagance. It was just the drivers—an intimate gathering of the grid. Daniel sat at the long table, the atmosphere a mix of laughter and conversations. Across from him, Carlos and Lando were deep in animated discussion, while Max sat to his right. An empty seat between Max and Lando at the head of the table drew Daniel's attention—a stark reminder of Amadeus's absence.

He found himself staring at that empty chair more often than he cared to admit.

"Lost by only 7 points. If not for the engine failure, I think he would have won," Pierre said, shaking his head from somewhere down the long table.

Beside him, Max frowned, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. Daniel was relieved that Amadeus wasn't here to hear this conversation.

"Is Amadeus coming?" Pierre asked, turning to Elias, who was seated nearby.

The young driver shook his head slowly. "I don't think so," Elias replied.

"Is he okay?" Seb asked, always the worrier, likely because he could imagine Amadeus's state.

"Yeah, he just needs time off," Elias assured, turning slightly to look at the empty seat, doubt filling his eyes.

Carlos and Daniel made eye contact, both silently sharing their concern.

The atmosphere differed markedly from one end of the table to the other. On the opposite end, the championship winner was surrounded by drivers, their laughter and polite conversation filling the air. At Daniel's end, Max was tense and quiet beside him, while Carlos's eyes kept darting towards the door.

As everyone was about to order, Max nudged Daniel, making his head snap to the door. Daniel watched as Amadeus walked in. He looked completely different from a few hours ago. His hair was loose, neatly tucked behind his ear. He was dressed in a simple button-up, the first couple of buttons left open, revealing the cross that always hung from his neck. His sleeves were folded up. He looked put together, but his eyes were dark and burdened; all the ironed slacks in the world couldn't hide that.

The room fell silent for a moment as all eyes turned to Amadeus. He managed a small, weary smile as he made his way to his seat, nodding at the murmurs of greetings from his fellow drivers.

"Sorry for being late," Amadeus said with a stiff smile.

He greeted some of the drivers quickly, making his way to Lewis. "I didn't get to see you after the race, so congrats."

"Thanks, mate. You put up a good fight and made it fun," Lewis replied with a surprised smile.

Amadeus smiled back tightly. Daniel could tell he was burning on the inside, his smile looking painful.