Silver Lining ❥ daerin

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟕: 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬

𝚂̷𝚊̷𝚐̷𝚎̷

The sound of my car's engine died as I pulled into Calista's driveway, the quiet eeriness of the day sinking in as soon as I stepped out.

Her house loomed in front of me, familiar yet carrying an undercurrent of something... tense. I'd been here so many times before, but now, everything felt different.

I hadn't seen her since last night—since her parents found her in the study. And I knew, deep down, that she wasn't okay. I could feel it in the way her messages had become brief, in how she'd stopped reaching out for comfort, choosing to isolate herself instead.

I exhaled, nerves dancing along my skin as I rang the doorbell.There was a long pause before the door finally creaked open. Calista stood there, her eyes tired, wearing that look I knew too well—the one that told me she'd been overthinking everything, spiraling down into her own thoughts. Her lips twitched into a half-smile when she saw me, but even that felt weighed down, as if she had to force it.

"Hey," she murmured, stepping aside to let me in.

"Hey," I replied softly, closing the door behind me.

The house was quiet, too quiet, and I didn't need to ask to know her parents weren't home.

"How're you feeling?"

She shrugged, walking back toward the living room where Formula 1 played on the TV in the background. "Fine, I guess." I followed her to the couch, watching as she sank into it with a sigh. She looked fragile, not in the physical sense, but emotionally, like something delicate held together by sheer willpower. It made my chest tighten just looking at her.

"You didn't answer my texts last night," I said, sitting down next to her.

"Yeah," she muttered, eyes fixed on the TV, though I could tell she wasn't really watching. "I just... needed space."

I nodded, understanding but also aching. "That's okay. But you know I'm here, right? If you need to talk?"

Calista glanced at me, her jaw tight, then turned back to the TV. "There's not much to say, Sage. You already know everything. I'm scared. I'm scared, and I don't know how to fix it."

The rawness of her words hung in the air between us. It wasn't like Calista to admit fear, to show vulnerability. I knew she was struggling with the crash and everything that came after, but seeing her like this—this distant and uncertain—it hit harder than I expected. I reached for her hand, hesitant, as if testing the waters. She didn't pull away, but she didn't exactly grip my hand back either. She just let it rest there, as if she didn't have the energy to respond.

"Calista," I began, choosing my words carefully. "You don't need to fix it all at once. This... this fear you're feeling? It's not something you can just push away. You don't have to be unbreakable all the time."

She let out a bitter laugh, her eyes still glued to the screen. "But I was supposed to be. I've been fearless my whole life, Sage. Racing was always the one thing I could control, the one thing I knew how to do. Now it just feels... different." I squeezed her hand gently. "It's okay for it to feel different. You've been through something huge. Anyone would be shaken after that."

"Yeah, but I'm not just anyone," she snapped, pulling her hand away as she stood up abruptly. Her frustration radiated off her, that familiar fire in her eyes suddenly igniting. "I'm Calista Avellino. I was supposed to be the fearless one. The one who never backs down from a race. And now? Now I'm scared to even get back in the car."

Her voice cracked at the end, and I stood up too, reaching for her, but she stepped back, shaking her head as if trying to pull herself together."

You think I don't know that?" I asked, keeping my voice steady but soft. "I know who you are, Calista. I know you've always been fearless. But this doesn't make you any less of who you are. Being scared doesn't take away from your strength."

She ran a hand through her hair, pacing the length of the living room like she was trying to outrun her thoughts. "But what if it does, Sage? What if I'm not the same person anymore? What if I can't get back to that? I don't know who I am if I can't race without fear."

Her words hit hard, and I could see the cracks deepening in her composure, in that tough exterior she usually wore like armour. This was more than just about racing; it was about her identity, about everything she'd built her life around. And now that it felt threatened, she didn't know how to handle it. I took a step closer, making sure she knew I wasn't trying to force anything but that I wasn't leaving either.

"Calista... fear doesn't define you. You can still be strong, still be a racer, and be scared. They're not mutually exclusive."

She finally stopped pacing, standing there with her back to me, shoulders slumped. "It feels like everything's slipping out of my control. Like I don't even recognise myself anymore."

I moved closer, until I was standing right behind her, and slowly, I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her into a gentle embrace. "I recognise you," I whispered into her ear. "You're still Calista. You're still the girl who loves racing more than anything. But it's okay to let yourself feel this. To take time to figure it out." For a moment, she didn't respond, just stood there in my arms, breathing hard as if she was trying to keep it together. Then, slowly, I felt her relax, just a little. Her hands came to rest on mine, and she leaned back against me, letting out a shaky breath.

"I hate feeling like this," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I know," I said softly. "But I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

She turned around in my arms then, finally facing me, her eyes filled with a mix of frustration, fear, and something else—something vulnerable and raw. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice cracking again. "I didn't mean to push you away."

I shook my head. "You don't need to apologise. I get it." She rested her forehead against mine, closing her eyes. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

I held her tighter, my heart aching at the depth of her pain. "You don't have to find out." For a while, we just stood there, holding each other in the quiet of her living room, the sound of the TV fading into the background. I didn't have all the answers, and I knew Calista was still wrestling with her fears, but in that moment, it felt like we were okay—like we could figure it out together.

Eventually, she pulled back, wiping at her eyes. "Do you want to go somewhere?" she asked, her voice steadier now. "Just... somewhere quiet?"

I nodded, knowing exactly where she meant. "Yeah. Let's go."We left the house in silence, her hand slipping into mine as we got into my car and drove toward the racetrack—not to race, but to just be in the place that had always felt like home to her. Maybe being there, without the pressure, without the fear of crashing, would help her remember who she was.

As we pulled into the empty track, I glanced over at her. "You okay?"

She nodded, though her eyes still held that haunted look. "Yeah. I just... I need to feel like myself again."

We got out of the car, and as we walked along the track, hand in hand, I hoped that in this quiet space, away from everything else, she'd find some peace. And maybe, just maybe, she'd start to believe that she didn't have to be fearless to still be Calista Avellino.