One Shots | Toto Wolff | F1

The Things You... Didn't Say.

"Looking for something?"

The sharp, impatient voice caught me off guard. I turned around with a start, my heart beating a little faster. At the door, Anneliese - the same Anneliese as before - was looking at me with that penetrating, scrutinizing gaze that always managed to strip away any mask I wore. There was something in her eyes that softened when she recognized me.

"My love," she said, her tone changing almost imperceptibly. "I didn't expect to see you here again." She gave a small smile, an expression that seemed unfamiliar on her face. "Come in."

I returned the smile, trying to hide my nervousness.

"Time has been good to you," she continued, her curious gaze scanning my face. "I almost didn't recognize you."

"Thank you. I guess we all change a little, don't we?" My voice came out neutral, but there was a slight subtext - an allusion to the years that had passed and the unknown that had come between us.

She gestured for me to come in further. "Come, sit down for a while. I can make something for you while he's not here." She was already moving toward the kitchen, as if she knew exactly what to do, her gestures precise and practical.

I followed her, feeling a slight strangeness in the place that seemed so familiar yet distant. The kitchen was lit by the soft afternoon light, with simple details, no unnecessary decorations - as if time had stopped here, but somehow, everything was different. The walls carried the smell of coffee and something sweet, and the sound of a kettle beginning to boil filled the silence.

"I didn't know you were still here... Almost nothing has changed." The words escaped before I could stop them, an attempt to probe without being too direct. There was a curiosity in the air, but it was restrained, cautious.

She gave a slight smile, just one corner of her lips curling up. "Not much changes, dear, at least not around here." There was a pause. "But some of us change more than others, don't we?" She didn't wait for an answer, turning to the kettle that was beginning to whistle.

I watched her practical movements, trying to ignore the discomfort settling in - a mix of nostalgia and something I couldn't name. For a moment, my eyes fell on a picture frame turned sideways on the kitchen shelf. Something made my heart race, but I looked away before giving it more thought.

"I hardly remember what it was like anymore..." I let slip, more to myself, looking around.

She glanced at me sideways, picking up a cup. "Sometimes it's better that way," she said, her tone casual, but the words seemed more significant than she intended.

There was a small silence between us, filled only by the sound of the boiling kettle. The familiar smell of fresh coffee began to fill the air, and for a moment, I felt transported somewhere in the past, even if unwillingly.

"Can I take a picture?" I pointed out the window, in an attempt, perhaps a failed one, to break the silence.

"Always with the camera?" She raised an eyebrow, her tone half playful, half intrigued. There was a subtle gleam in her eyes, as if revisiting a distant memory, something that made her hesitate for a brief moment. "Never miss a moment, do you?"

"My best friend," I laughed, trying to sound relaxed, even feeling the weight of the tension in the air. I raised the camera to my face, adjusting the lens to capture the view.

I pointed the camera out the window and, through the lens, saw the landscape stretching outside. The mountains rose in the distance, their slopes worn by time, a bluish-gray against the sky, which was beginning to lose its light. The wind made the trees sway, and the lake's surface moved, reflecting in a distorted way the first stars that appeared.