THE ROOKIE driver ✔

Chapter 13: Circuit de Spa-Francorchamps

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It was Sunday morning at the Circuit de Spa-Francorchamps, and the paddock was alive with its usual frenzy. Engines roared, and mechanics hustled, each absorbed in their tasks. The smell of burning rubber and the sharp tang of fuel filled the air, creating an atmosphere thick with anticipation.

Matteo moved through the motions of getting ready for the race—pulling on his fireproof suit, checking his helmet, and lacing up his boots—but his heart wasn't in it. His mind still kept drifting back to memories of his grandmother. Her warm smile, the way she used to call him her little champion, and how proud she had been of his racing career. It was hard to believe she was really gone. The grief sat heavy in his chest, a dull, persistent ache that made everything else seem distant and unimportant.

The roar of engines and the clatter of tools around him seemed to blur into a dull hum, like background noise in a world he was no longer fully part of. He felt disconnected, as though he were watching himself from a distance, going through the motions but not truly present. Even the familiar buzz of excitement that usually accompanied race day felt muted, replaced by a heavy, almost oppressive sadness.

Matteo tried to focus on the race, but every time he closed his eyes to visualize the track, he saw her face instead. He remembered the last time they spoke, just before she passed away. She had told him to keep racing, to keep chasing his dreams, no matter what. But now, without her, those dreams felt hollow. He wondered if he could still race with the same passion, or if the grief would slow him down, making him a shadow of the driver he used to be.

As he sat on the edge of his seat, head bowed and hands gripping his helmet, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see James standing over him with a serious expression.

"Matteo, can you come with me for a minute?" James asked, his voice gentle but firm.

Matteo nodded slowly, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders as he stood up. He knew something was wrong, but in that moment, he didn't have the energy to ask.

As they walked through the bustling paddock, the usual energy of race day seemed to swirl around him without touching him. Matteo barely registered the people they passed or the sounds of the pit lane.

When they reached Mario's office, the door already open, Matteo felt a pang of anxiety. He had been in this office many times before, usually for important meetings or post-race debriefs, but today wasn't scheduled, at least not to Matteo's knowledge.

Inside, the office was a world apart from the chaos outside—quiet, orderly, and dominated by Mario's large wooden desk. Mario, normally brimming with confidence, was engrossed in a stack of paperwork and the glow of his computer screen. Dr. Keller, Stefano and Adam were present, their faces etched with concern.

As Matteo stood still at the entrance, the atmosphere in the room felt thick with tension. The weight of what was about to unfold made the room seem smaller, and he could almost hear his own heartbeat.

"What have I done now?" Matteo asked nervously

Mario gestured toward the chair. "Please, have a seat, Matteo." Matteo hesitated for a moment before lowering himself into the chair, his movements slow and uncertain. He glanced around the room, trying to read the expressions on everyone's faces, but the seriousness in their eyes only made his heart pound harder. He wasn't sure what to expect, but the weight in the room made it clear that this was more than just a routine discussion.

Mario began, his voice carrying a note of worry. "Matteo, we need to discuss some serious concerns about your recent weight loss. The FIA has raised issues regarding your health and performance."