THE ROOKIE driver ✔

Chapter 12: Hungaroring

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July arrived, bringing with it the sweltering heat of Hungary and the challenging twists of the Hungaroring. Matteo stood in the paddock, his race suit hanging loosely on his frame, the fabric clinging to his skin in the oppressive heat. But the heat was the least of his concerns. The once-strong and confident driver had been reduced to a shadow of himself. The world around him felt quiet, everything moving in slow motion. It was as if the vibrant energy of the race weekend had been drained from him entirely.

His phone hung limply from his hand, its weight suddenly unbearable. The screen displayed his mother's number, the call still connected, but Matteo could barely register it. His mother's sobs, soft and broken, filtered through the speaker, but they felt distant, almost unreal. The words she had just spoken echoed in his mind, but he couldn't quite grasp them, couldn't make them feel real.

"Matteo...she's gone," his mother had said, her voice thick with grief.

He didn't know what to say. What could he say? His grandmother, the woman who had been his rock, his source of comfort and wisdom, was gone. The news hit him like a sledgehammer to the chest, knocking the wind out of him. Ever since she got sick, he had prepared himself for the worst, or so he had thought.

Matteo stared straight ahead, his eyes unfocused as the world around him continued on. Mechanics bustled about, engineers studied data screens, and other drivers chatted with their teams, oblivious to the devastation that had just shattered Matteo's world. He could hear the distant roar of an engine being tested, the hum of activity in the paddock, but it all felt so far away, like he was watching it through a thick pane of glass.

His grandmother had been more than just family to him. She had been his biggest supporter, the one who had believed in him when no one else did. Every race, every victory, every defeat—she had been there, cheering him on, offering words of encouragement or comfort, depending on what was needed. She had a way of making everything seem okay, no matter how bad things got.

And now she was gone.

Matteo's grip on the phone tightened, his knuckles turning white. He wanted to say something, anything, to his mother, to reassure her, to tell her that everything would be okay. But the words wouldn't come. His throat was tight, choked with grief and disbelief.

He remembered the last time he had spoken to his grandmother, just a week ago. She had sounded weak, tired, but she had still managed to tease him about his racing, telling him to keep his head down and focus, to not let anything distract him. "I'm proud of you, Matteo," she had said. "No matter what, you make me proud."

Those words echoed in his mind now. He had planned to visit her after this race, to spend some time with her before the season ramped up again. But now, that chance was gone, ripped away from him before he even realized it was slipping through his fingers.

"Matteo..." His mother's voice broke through his thoughts, trembling with sorrow. "I know you're far away, but...I wanted you to know. I didn't want you to find out from someone else."

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to respond, to say something to her. "I—I'm sorry, Mom," he finally managed, his voice cracking. "I should be there with you."

"You're doing what she always wanted you to do," his mother said, her voice wavering. "She would want you to race, Matteo. She was so proud of you."

He nodded, even though she couldn't see him, tears stinging his eyes. "I know, but...it doesn't feel right."

There was a long pause, filled with nothing but the sound of their shared grief, before his mother spoke again, softer this time. "Just know that she loved you, Matteo. And she wouldn't want you to stop. Not for anything."