My Formula 1 System

Luca met up with Harry at the entrance of Abisal Square. Harry was easy to spot in the bustling venue, wearing an outfit similar to Luca's, along with his distinctive brown skin and hazel eyes. The two nudged each other as they approached and instantly launched into stories about their latest endeavors.

Harry was genuinely proud of Luca. From the first moment he stood at their dorm room door at Grey-Husson's, he'd known Luca was going to be good. That thought kept him going, giving him hope that the OLAC management would recognize his own potential in a single-seater and give him a shot behind the wheel, even if just for Sprint Races.

They strolled around Abisal Square, waiting for Ansel, who was running late. The square was a blend of modern architecture and open space, with a massive screen displaying cultural highlights. Moments later, clips from yesterday's F1 race flickered across it. They chatted, paused to watch street performers, stopped at food stalls, and even dashed after pigeons, laughing and soaking up the atmosphere.

They grabbed cold drinks and settled on the terrace, watching girls pose for photos in the open space. Just as they were getting comfortable, Ansel called to announce his arrival.

With a shared glance, Luca and Harry walked back to the entrance to greet him. Ansel approached, dressed in a black jacket and jeans, a cap pulled low over his eyes. Luca figured he had good reason to be cautious; after two years in Formula 2 and a victory in Saturday's Feature Race, Ansel's face was probably recognizable to thousands of Australians.

"I see she even flew halfway across the world just to watch you race," Ansel said, smirking as he nodded toward Luca. They exchanged greetings, and Ansel shot a glance back at the road behind the square. Sara was there in the driver's seat of a parked car, shades on, absorbed in her phone.

Luca almost laughed out loud, tempted to tell his friends that Sara was his PA, not his significant other. But he found the misunderstanding amusing enough to let it ride.

Ansel joined them, drink in hand, and soon they were talking and laughing like they were drunk—though it was just fatigue making its presence known.

Their last full day in Melbourne had come to an end, with Luca and Ansel giving Harry a heartfelt goodbye as they parted ways. Sara sped off as soon as Luca settled into the car, the sky turning a deeper shade of blue as his evening hangout concluded.

That night, Luca began packing his belongings, convinced that starting early was better than scrambling later. After finishing his dinner and taking a night bath, a weary Sara excused herself and headed to her hotel room to rest.

With his suitcase half-packed, Luca's phone rang—Mallow's name lit up the screen. He answered briefly, only for it to ring again immediately after. This time, "Mother" was displayed in bold. Luca found himself groaning at the idea of answering his own mother's call. He never knew how to handle her effusive praises and constant wishes for his safety, as if she were an ardent believer speaking to her divine maker and protector.

Luca was sure she wanted to thank him for the recent deposit Sara had made earlier that day. That gave him even more reason to hesitate. He dropped onto the edge of his bed, letting the call ring out before switching to messages instead.

Luca: Mother, good evening. I'm at a forum now, can't answer calls, what's up?

Mrs. Rennick: Luca, my beautiful son...

Luca rolled his eyes and groaned at the ceiling. The length of the incoming message already made him thankful for dodging that call. Still, a small smile crept onto his face as he realized how lucky he was to have such a caring mother. With a shift in his mood, he replied with the same affectionate energy.

His gaze drifted to the chat beneath, eyes slowly widening when he saw Isabella's name. He'd completely forgotten that he'd messaged her. Now, there was a reply—sent 1 day and 10 hours ago.

Luca stroked his forehead, wondering why he chickened out before. Taking a deep breath, he opened the chat where five new messages greeted him, the last one ending with "what about you?"

Humming to himself with a touch of irony, Luca scanned her responses. First, a polite "Good Morning," then, "It's been a while," followed by, "I thought you wouldn't text or call." Just beneath that, a one-minute gap later, came, "I'm in Italy now for school applications, I'm doing pretty fine," and finally, "what about you?"

Not bad, Luca thought. And to think I'd worried I had scared her away. The ease with which Isabella engaged surprised him and sparked a renewed sense of hope and investment.

The last detail Isabella shared caught Luca's interest. He'd been curious about her age for a while because he never wanted to ask her straight away. School applications, she said. That likely made her Sophia's age, just about to enter college.

Luca mulled over what to reply, spending over ten minutes staring blankly at the hotel room's cabinet and shelves. He'd once heard that not overthinking things often led to more genuine, successful outcomes. With this renewed sentiment, Luca hammered at the screen: Will be in Berlin by the end of tomorrow for more core training.

After a brief pause, he added: Good luck with the school applications.

He dropped back onto the bed, eyes drifting up to the ceiling, phone still in hand. His life had taken such a drastic turn, and he could barely recognize who he was anymore. He wondered just how much more things would change once he finally reached F1.

With a long exhale, Luca let his eyes close for a moment.

[Ding!]

[Host is yet to complete Tuesday's Daily Quest]

Luca couldn't tell if he consciously chose to ignore the notification or if the pull of sleep was simply too strong.

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