Page 1 of Game on, Love

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Raina

IT WAS FREEZING.

Dark grey clouds loomed in the sky, heavy and ready to burst. I stood behind the glass doors, which opened and closed every few seconds as my small movements triggered the sensors.

It was barely September, and while the sun should have been shining, reflecting the golden glow over the mirrored buildings, the sky looked ready to unleash a torrential downpour.

Maybe I should have felt a sense of familiarity in it, and truthfully, on a regular day, I would have. The comfort of raindrops on a window and the scent that followed brought me memories of home andMa.

But today, the way the wind picked up, carrying a chill that shouldn’t have been there, felt like it was waiting to rip that comfort off and graze the wounds hidden behind those memories.

A vulnerability I wassureI didn’t want to confront.

I closed my eyes and pulled myself into the memories of home.

Being at home meant spending time with Ma and my grandparents, and that will always be a special time for me. From the moment we got onto the flight and stepped foot in the sticky humidity of Delhi, the time of my life was on. Leaving the mugginess of the UK and four grumpy guys behind meant that when we got on that flight, it was only Ma and me.

No more dotting on stupid boys who yelled at each other and us, no more doing things because of their practice sessions or schedules, just us two. Even though I loved my brothers, and all those times when Ma had always told me,“I’m lucky I’ve gotthree older brothers, that means three times the love my Dad already had for me.”

I always felt lucky.

Somehow, that irony jolts me out of that moment, and I stare back at the sky.

Would she have been disappointed with me for not forgiving them? Would she be angry with me for never reaching out? Was she angry at them for never doing the same?

But most of all, the voice in me couldn’t stop repeating, was this her way of making it right again?

The signs had been there all day. She had been reminding me of all those broken pieces since this morning, and I wondered if this was the one that forced me to pick them all back.

This morning had been more than just a brewing storm, it was a full-blown disaster. The plan was to arrive at Silverstone for a special piece as part of our pre-race show,Pit Stops, and do a full day of shoot before stopping by the NexGen Campus to pick up some collateral for the shoot the following day and scooting off for a lush night in.

But as soon as we arrived at the track and were ready to start the shoot, a day that had started as clear skies and glaring sunshine turned into a storm and a half. The debate to stay on-site for a night and finish the project the next day was over before it started, and we were left to make do with what we could in the weather and adapt for the time being.

Admittedly, it wasn’tthatbad. I was also glad that out of all the drivers on the grid, it was Axel we were shooting with that day. With the ramp-up of content and media duties for the drivers this year, they had been extra stingy to work with, and the handful of those in the situation as him before had stepped out as soon as the situation required us to adapt and mould our creative to go with the weather or emergencies.

I may be biased, but Axel Beauman was a work of art.

From Karting to Formula One, he has had one of the most successful and record-breaking careers the sport has seen. At thirteen, he was the youngest-ever karting champion, and at twenty-one, he was the youngest-ever Formula One champion.

He was regarded as one of the most competitive drivers on the grid and was among the best drivers who would go down in history.

His driving was almost always flawless, as if it were his natural state. As he broke records made before him and set new ones for the drivers coming after him, watching his story unfold was an experience in itself.

And yet, as a two-time world champion on the way to winning his third one, he was still one of the most genuine people I had known.

He always arrived early, didn’t fuss if we were running late and always got the crew treats to work with. He almost always got extra brownie points for getting me a coffee to go with it.

I had known Axel since we were kids, which was one of the few things I had gained from my parents, who always prioritised my brothers.

While I never had a favourite sibling, I shared a special bond with Vedant that I never shared with Rihaan or Dev.

When Dad took Rihaan to cricket practice, and Ma took Vedant to his races and practice sessions, I always had the choice to stay home with Dev, but I wanted to spend as much time with Ma and Vedant as possible, so it was never a question.

Axel and I met during one of their karting race weekends after I had managed to get lost in their makeshift paddock.

In my defence, I had wandered off to look for Ma, who had stepped outside, leaving Vedant and me with some adult she obviously considered responsible. But if I was known to be clingy with my brother, I'm not sure what the word would be, butI wholeheartedly considered myself a part of Ma. If she wasn’t around, I felt like I had half a heart, and like a moth to a flame, I would find her and stick by her side.