Roads of Redemption | F1 | Toto Wolff

13 | Insight.

Missing someone who is nearby, moments that slipped away like sand between fingers, or even someone you never had, can manifest as an unexpected wave. This wave comes suddenly, with a force that catches us off guard, and if we're not careful, it can drag us down into the depths of ourselves, where the air feels thin, and time stretches.

The process of changing so as not to be caught off guard by this tide is equally challenging. It requires facing the inner tides, confronting the pain that surfaces with each attempt to reach the surface, and accepting that sometimes, swimming against the current is the only option to avoid drowning. But this struggle can be just as painful as being paralyzed by the water, wavering between the past and the present, between what was and what will never be.

Today, I chose not to drown in it.

The final race.

Christian approached, finding me next to my pair of keychains, Max and Checo, who always seemed ready for any fun distraction. He stopped beside us, with a faint smile suggesting a mix of curiosity and exhaustion.

"Thank you," he said, his voice carrying a lighter weight than I expected. "Thank you for the focus over the last week, for putting the project on hold at this final stretch of the year."

"There wasn't much more I could do," I replied, my response escaping with a touch of irony but also with a silent sincerity.

Christian noticed the tone in my voice, but he didn't pull away; instead, he kept his gaze fixed, curiosity flashing behind his attentive eyes. "What are you writing there?"

Before I could answer, Max, always quicker, cut in with his straightforward manner. "A love letter," he declared, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "A big, spicy love letter."

We all laughed, the sound echoing around us.

"Yes, that's right," I continued, playing along, "taking advantage of this mood of endings and conclusions... a love letter, after all," and I glanced sideways at the keychain in Max's hands, which spun idly between his fingers.

Before Horner could ask what Max meant by love letter, he continued, not missing a beat.

"Look there," Max said, pointing with a playful smile. "The love letter is passing by." He paused dramatically, his eyes narrowing as if observing something in the distance. "And if I weren't such a good seer, I'd say he's thinking of coming over here."

Christian followed the direction of Max's gaze, frowning briefly before realizing who he was talking about. A wry smile began to form on his lips as he absorbed the implication.

"He seems to be in a terrible mood," Max commented, with that smile of someone who had expected it.

"You never give him peace, Max. What did you expect?" I replied, crossing my arms but unable to hide the amused tone in my voice.

Max let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Is that all, Valen?" His eyes sparkled with restrained mischief. "But in part, you're right."

Before the love letter could approach, Christian, sensing the tension, stepped forward to meet him, intercepting the way.

Taking the cue, I started organizing my desk, stacking some papers and throwing away my cold coffee. Max and Checo followed closely, curiosity written all over their faces.

"Won't you miss it?" Checo asked, as if trying to read my thoughts.

"Miss what exactly?" I asked, without taking my eyes off what I was doing.

Max smiled and leaned against the edge of the table. "Us, of course. The conversations, the jokes between sessions... our endless dramas," he added with a provocative wink.