My heart is on that track

Chapter 1: I am a little more brave

Leia's P.O.V

"Two steps forward and one step backward... is still progress," I reminded myself, standing frozen outside the entrance of the building. The front desk, tucked away behind a tall screen, felt impossibly far, even though it was only a few steps inside. I'd arrived ten minutes ago, but instead of walking in, I found myself pacing, nerves and nausea dancing together in perfect sync. My feet, as uncertain as my mind, mirrored my hesitation—two steps forward, one step back. Should I go inside or just turn around and run back home to the isolation that had become my refuge?

"Two steps forward and one step backward is still a step forward,"I whispered, trying to gather the remnants of courage scattered inside me. "Just once. I'll try this one time. If it's too much, I can always run home."

Stepping outside wasn't part of my routine. Hiding was. After years of battling with depression and anxiety. Locking myself in my dorm room had become my reality—a coping mechanism of being bullied, bruised and rejected for 12 years in school. Even though that chapter of my life had ended, the trauma lingered, leaving me with deep scars -emotional, mental - crippling any hope I had of believing that kindness still existed in people.

Leaving school at the age of 18 and now in my third year of med school abroad, not much had changed. I still had no friends here and that was on me because I was too scared to reach out. Fear of rejection and judgment, panic attacks, and the crushing weight of anxiety kept me isolated, distant from any kind of human connection. Everywhere I went, it felt like the eyes of others judged me. The label "weirdo" was slapped on me faster than I could even say hello.

I tried to change, to fit in, but every attempt only pushed me further into my shell. I gave up on the idea that someone out there would understand or match my quirks. So, I resigned to a life of solitude, afraid to let the world in.

But today felt different. I didn't want the people who had hurt me to define the rest of my life. Even if I had to do it alone, I wanted to live.

And that's why I was here—about to try something I had always wanted to try: Go-karting.

I'd been a Formula 1 fan for years, but stepping out into the world always felt impossible. Until last night, when after hours of self-talk, I gathered enough courage to search for the nearest track. Now, here I was, at the first one that popped up my search, just a few miles from my dorm. 

And now, here I stood, ready to take that first step, thinking it would be a one-time thing, never imagining it would become one of the most beautiful chapters of my life.

It is curious the things that life has hidden in a "Hello, how are you?".

Finally, I forced my feet to move, crossing the entrance and stepping into the building. The place was wide and spacious, with brown chairs lined up against the cemented walls. The front desk stood at the far end, separated by a tall, transparent screen. I couldn't see anyone behind it until I got closer.

The entire place was empty—except for one person behind the screen. The pandemic had only just ended, and there were no other customers, no other employees. The quietness hung heavy in the air, both intimidating and comforting.

Peeking over the counter, I caught the first glimpse of a guy seated at the desk, fully absorbed in his work, eyes fixed on the computer screen. His mouse clicked steadily, his fingers moving with a practiced rhythm. One hand rested thoughtfully against his lips, as though he was lost in his own world, deep in concentration.

I hesitated, unsure if I should interrupt his concentration. But then, as if sensing me, he looked up, his eyes meeting with mine.

"Hello. How are you?" His voice was soft, laced with a mixed accent. A warm smile spread across his face as he looked at me with such gentle eyes it took me aback.  "Hi," I managed, smiling back.