Y/N met Kimi Räikkönen on a crisp autumn night in Helsinki. She had moved to Finland for a fresh start, wanting to leave behind a life full of quiet disappointments. She never expected to cross paths with Kimi, the stoic F1 driver whose fame and success were always cloaked in silence and mystery. He had a way about him, a kind of stillness that drew her in. Kimi was hard to read, quiet but intense, the kind of man who spoke more with his eyes than with words.
Their love was an unexpected, quiet burn. Kimi wasn’t one for grand gestures or declarations, but he showed his affection in subtle ways—a hand on the small of her back, the way he’d silently pull her close during cold nights, the moments they shared in wordless understanding. Y/N had never known a love so deep or so quiet.
But their love was also tinged with a strange, constant ache. Kimi was always on the edge of leaving. Racing was his first love, a dangerous one that had already claimed friends, scarred his body, and haunted his dreams. He would disappear for weeks, sometimes months, returning home with fresh bruises and shadows in his eyes. She worried for him every day, that one morning, she’d wake up to a call that he was gone.
One cold winter night, Kimi sat with her on their back porch, gazing out at the snow-covered fields, his fingers tracing small circles on her hand. There was something distant in his expression, a quiet sadness that she didn’t recognize.
“What is it?” she asked, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the cold.
He was silent for a long time, then he said softly, “I don’t know how long I can keep doing this, Y/N.” He turned to her, eyes intense but guarded. “I’m not afraid of getting hurt on the track. But leaving you… I think I’m more afraid of hurting you.”
She knew what he meant. Every time he stepped into that car, every time he pushed it to its limit, it felt like a knife twisting in her chest. She nodded, trying to be strong for him, even as she ached inside. “Just come back to me. That’s all I ask.”
But the accident came, as she had always feared it would. She was in her apartment when she got the call, her hands trembling as they told her about the crash, about how his car had hit the wall at a terrifying speed. They spoke of his injuries, how slim the chance of survival was.
She sat by his hospital bed for days, unable to do anything but hold his hand, whispering words he couldn’t hear. The doctors told her it was unlikely he’d wake up. Still, she stayed, her heart breaking as she watched the person she loved slip further away.
Then one night, she dreamed of him. She saw him on that snow-covered field behind their house, standing with his hands tucked into his jacket, his familiar half-smile soft and sad. He didn’t say anything, but somehow, she knew it was goodbye.
When she awoke, the room was silent. She reached for his hand, but it was cold.
In the end, her love for Kimi remained a quiet ache, the kind that never truly faded. He was gone, but she felt his presence everywhere—in the way she’d catch herself reaching for him in her sleep, in the quiet winter nights, in the tracks he’d left on her heart. And somehow, she knew he’d never really left.
