Silver Lining ❥ daerin

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑: 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥

ℭ𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔞

I could smell the fuel and the faint scent of burnt rubber
the moment I pulled up to the track. There was something comforting about it—the hum of engines, the heat rising from the asphalt, and the faint echo of distant cheers. It wasn't a real race today, just another practice run, but to me, it didn't matter.

This was where I felt alive.

The track staff waved at me as I approached, all smiles and nods. Most of them had been here since I was a teenager, back when I started sneaking out to ride before my parents could stop me. Over time, they became like family—people who knew me, really knew me, in a way few others did.

"Calista! Looks like another perfect day for you to beat your own time, huh?" one of the mechanics called out, grinning as he wiped his hands on a rag.

"Always," I shot back, giving him a quick wave. The guys here knew better than to ask if I ever slowed down, if I ever took a break. They knew I didn't.

The track wasn't just a hobby; it was my escape. The place where everything else fell away—no pressure from my parents, no expectations to be the perfect daughter or the flawless student. Just speed, control, and the open road ahead.

I scanned the stands and my eyes landed on a familiar figure, her arms crossed, sunglasses perched on her head. Hiraya. Of course, she'd be here. Even when I told her it was just a practice run, no big deal, she'd still shown up. I shook my head, a small smile playing on my lips. That was Hiraya for you—always around, always in my corner.

I made my way over to her, weaving between a few spectators who had come to watch the others on the track. "You didn't have to come, you know. It's not like this is a real race."

She raised an eyebrow, grinning. "Yeah, but I know you. You're not just here for fun. You're here to win, even if it's against yourself."

I couldn't argue with that. "You're too good at reading me."

"Someone has to be," she teased, before nudging me with her elbow. "Go on, show them what you're made of."

With a quick nod, I headed back to the pit, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline starting to build. Even without the pressure of a competition, this was still my time—my place to be untouchable. The roar of engines surrounded me, but it wasn't noise; it was music. The track was waiting for me, like it always had.

I slipped on my helmet and took a deep breath, feeling the world narrow down to just me and the road ahead.

I pulled my racing gloves out of the car, the leather smooth under my fingers. My helmet was matte black with streaks of red that matched the Pagani perfectly. It was a routine I never got tired of—slipping into the gear, feeling the shift from ordinary life to the driver I became on the track.

The helmet clicked into place, sealing me off from everything but the roar of engines and the pounding of my heartbeat. I tightened my gloves, flexing my hands before stepping toward the Pagani again. The track was loud, but inside my head, it was all focus.

I climbed back into the driver's seat, the leather hugging me like it was made for this. As I revved the engine, it growled to life beneath me, powerful and ready to fly. I glanced over at the stands, and there was Hiraya, sitting casually with her arms crossed, her smile widening as she saw me prepare. Even when it wasn't an official race, she never missed a chance to watch me push the limits. She knew this wasn't just another drive for me—it was everything.

The track opened up in front of me as I rolled up to the starting line, my pulse quickening in sync with the rumble of the car. I hit the accelerator, the car jumping forward as I launched into the first lap. The Pagani roared down the straightaway, the world blurring past in a rush of colour and wind.

Corners came fast, but I knew this track like the back of my hand. My hands gripped the wheel tighter, twisting and turning through the curves like second nature. Every hairpin, every straight, I attacked it, pushing the car faster, harder, feeling the tires grip the asphalt like they were made for it. The G-forces pressed me into the seat as I hit full throttle on the next straight.

This was where I belonged—no distractions, no expectations. Just me and the car, a single unit flying through the track at speeds that blurred the world into nothing. The engine screamed as I shifted gears, accelerating into the final turn.

I couldn't help the grin beneath my helmet. Even though this wasn't a real race, it felt like one. Because to me, every moment on the track mattered. Every second was a chance to be better, faster, untouchable.

The lap finished with a rush of adrenaline that lingered long after I crossed the line. I slowed the Pagani, the engine growling softly as I pulled off to the side, breathing heavy and filled with that familiar rush of satisfaction.

I could feel the residual hum of adrenaline coursing through me. My hands were steady, but my heart was racing, matching the energy that still lingered in the air. I pulled the Pagani to a stop near the pit, the sun casting long shadows across the track as I flicked the engine off. Silence rushed in, thick and heavy, and for a moment, it felt like I was alone in the world, suspended in that perfect space between exhilaration and calm.

I lifted the helmet off, letting the cool air hit my face. My skin was slick with sweat, my pulse still high, but it was the good kind—the kind that reminded me I was alive, in control, and that nothing outside of this mattered. I leaned back against the seat for a second, staring at the track, replaying every corner and every burst of speed in my head. It was never enough. I always wanted more.

The creak of footsteps brought me back to reality. Hiraya had made her way down from the stands, a water bottle in her hand and that ever-present grin on her face. She approached the Pagani like she always did—half impressed, half used to it by now.

"Not bad for just a practice run," she teased, tossing me the bottle. "You nearly flew off that last turn, though. I saw it."

I smirked, catching the bottle with one hand. "Almost doesn't count, Hiraya."

"Yeah, but if it did, you'd be in a tree right now." She leaned against the car, eyes scanning the track as if she could see the lines I'd just carved into it. "I swear, watching you out there, it's like the world disappears for you."

She wasn't wrong. When I was out there, pushing the limits, nothing else could touch me. Not my family's expectations, not the constant pressure to be something more than just me. Out here, I was free. "It's the only place that makes sense," I admitted, cracking the water bottle open and taking a long drink. "Out there, it's just the car and me. No noise, no bullshit."

Hiraya glanced at me, her expression softening slightly. "Yeah, I get it. But just remember, you don't have to be invincible all the time, Cal."

I shrugged, wiping sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. "I know. But I like being invincible out here. It's the only place I can be."

She didn't push the point. Hiraya never did. She understood me better than most, and that's why she was always here—even when it wasn't a real race, even when it was just another day of me running laps and chasing that perfect drive.

The track staff started clearing out, a few of them waving in my direction as they wrapped up for the day. I gave them a nod of thanks. They were like a second family to me, the only people who saw the side of me that wasn't tied to the expectations of being a Avellino. Out here, I was just Calista—the girl who loved speed and the thrill of the race.

I glanced at the track one last time before I climbed out of the car, running my hand along the sleek body of the Pagani. I'd be back tomorrow. Maybe I'd shave a second or two off my best time. Maybe I wouldn't. But it didn't matter. What mattered was that feeling—the wind against my face, the world falling away as I flew through the curves and straightaways. That's what I lived for.

Hiraya nudged me playfully as we walked back toward the pit. "So, same time tomorrow?"

I chuckled, shaking my head. "You know it."

"Good," she said, glancing at the Pagani. "Because I want front-row seats when you finally break that lap record of yours."

"Keep dreaming," I shot back with a grin. But deep down, I knew she was right. It was only a matter of time before I did.