I Found You

Five years.

One thousand, eight hundred and twenty-six days since I last walked into an F1 paddock. I counted them. Every single one.

The Melbourne sun is brutal at 9 AM, bouncing off the white hospitality structures and turning the asphalt into a heat shimmer. The sounds hit me first, generators humming, pneumatic wrenches screaming, engineers shouting data across garages. The smell is oil and rubber and money.

I forgot how much I missed it.

No. That's a lie. I didn't forget. I just couldn't let myself remember.

"Leila Santos?" The Apex Racing PR coordinator finds me at the paddock entrance, tablet in hand, headset already buzzing with activity. "Welcome to the team. I'm Hannah. Let me show you to the garage."

I follow her through the controlled chaos, keeping my head down. The paddock is small, everyone knows everyone. I've been off the grid for half a decade, but faces are already turning my way. Confused. Curious.

Some who remember.

"Your access pass is in the garage," Hannah chatters. "Team briefing at eleven. Wind tunnel data came in overnight, Marcus wants your analysis before qualifying tomorrow."

Marcus Chen. Technical director. My new boss.

No relation to Sebastian. I checked. Three times.

We turn the corner toward the Apex Racing garage, its black-and-gold livery gleaming under the lights. My stomach flips. Stupid, involuntary. This is my second chance. New team, new car, new era. Nobody here knows about the crash except Marcus, and he hired me anyway.

I can do this. I will.

I stop walking.

Because standing at the entrance to my garage, arms crossed, watching me like he's been waiting for five years, is Sebastian Chen.

Taller than I remember. Leaner. There's a scar at his temple now, pale against his skin, a permanent reminder of the day I nearly killed him. He's wearing his Titan Motorsport gear, blue and white, enemy colors.

But his face isn't hostile.

Relief. Raw and unguarded.

"Leila." My name in his voice lands like a slap and a gift at once. "I found you."

I can't move. Can't swallow. The paddock noise fades to static.

Hannah looks between us, confused. "Um. Mr. Chen. Can I help you with something?"

He doesn't look at her. Just me. Only me.

"Five years," he says quietly. "You vanished. Left F1 entirely. No forwarding address. I looked for you for years. When I heard you were coming back, I made sure I'd be here."

"Sebastian." My voice cracks. "You shouldn't be here."

"You shouldn't have run." He takes a step closer. Security personnel are starting to notice, a rival team's driver at another team's garage. Unusual. The kind of thing that generates headlines.

I don't care.

"I need to work." The words come out thin.

"Then work. I'll wait." He shrugs like it's nothing. Like five years of distance means nothing. "I've waited this long. What's a few more hours?"

"Mr. Chen." Hannah's voice is sharper now. "I really have to ask you to leave. This area is restricted to Apex personnel."

He finally looks at her. Smiles, that easy, charming smile that made sponsors fall over themselves. That made me fall, period.

"Of course. My apologies." He steps back, hands raised. "I'll be at qualifying. We can talk then."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"There's everything to talk about." His smile fades. "The crash wasn't your fault, Leila. I read the report. I know what really happened."

The words hit like a blow.

"You don't know anything."

"I know you loved me." He says it the way he'd read telemetry data. Flat. Certain. "I know I loved you too. And I know you ran before I could tell you."

Hannah makes a small, strangled sound. This is definitely not in her PR briefing.

"Go." My voice barely holds. "Please. Just go."

He watches me. Measuring. Then nods.

"Okay. For now." He starts walking backward, toward the Titan garage at the far end of the paddock. "But Leila? I didn't come back to F1 just for the racing. I came back because I heard you were coming back. And I'm not losing you again."

He turns. Walks away.

I'm rooted to the spot until Hannah touches my arm.

"Ms. Santos? Are you... is there something I should tell Marcus?"

I exhale. Count to three. Inhale.

"No. Nothing." I make my feet work, carrying me into the garage. "Just an old colleague. It's handled."

But my hands won't stop trembling.

And somewhere across the paddock, Sebastian Chen is watching.

He found me.

After five years of hiding, of rebuilding, of convincing myself that running was the right choice, he found me.

And now I have no idea what to do.