Page 20 of Game on, Love
Show up. Properly.
I decided to linger by the media pen, knowing he would stop by there first for his post-quali interview. A few minutes later, he approached the journalists with the same unreadable expression, a mask of focus and control. But I was his sister. Even if I had been a crappy one, I still saw the subtle tension in his jaw, the tightness around his eyes—the frustration, the disappointment—and the lack of his usual smile.
“Vedant, tough session out there today. What was going through your mind during the final lap?”
His gaze was focused on something random as he spoke, almost as if the answers were so mechanical he didn’t even have to think about them. “Yeah, it was difficult. We didn’t get the balance right, and with the track evolving so fast, I struggled to find the grip I needed in the final sector. But we’ll regroup, and there’s still the race tomorrow. Anything can happen.”
The journalist saw right through the textbook answer, too, and pushed a little further. “Do you think the team waited too long before sending you out on the track?”
Vedant pursed his lips, clearly frustrated, but gave a shrug, “It’s always easy to second-guess decisions after the fact, but they made the call based on the data at the time. We’ll review it as a team and see what happened; learn and go from there.”
He went around the pen, giving the same but different answers to the journalists as they focused on the team’s decision for such a late call.
Singapore was such a tough track. It wasn’t just about the right strategy, but if there was a track you want your car to be completely in tune with you, it was this one.
I exhaled as I watched him disappear in the throng of people, heading back to the garage. Normally, I would keep the professional distance on track; it was something I had maintained since I had been here. But today, that voice in my head kept tugging at me. The need to check in, to show him I was there for him too.
As I walked through the Hillcrest motor hub, some team members greeted me as I passed, a few offering smiles or nods of recognition. It wasn’t unusual for me to just randomly walk in here, just rare. But it was usually because I wanted to check in after major incidents or when I was working.
When I reached Vedant’s room, I knocked on the door lightly, still debating turning around. But then the door opened, and I saw the twins: Vedant and Dev, sitting inside, deep in conversation. They stopped mid-sentence when they saw me, their expressions flickering with surprise before softening.
“Hey Raina, C’mon in,” Leon, Vedant’s personal trainer, stepped aside. “I was just leaving.”
He gave Vedant one last nod before stepping out and closing the door behind me.
“Everything OK?” Dev asked, and I nodded.
“Yeah, just thought I’d stop by… just to check in.”
Vedant’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t say anything, just nodded. Dev, on the other hand, flashed me a grin. “See, I told you she cares.”
The room was silent for a moment before I reached into my bag. “Well, this was supposed to be something you were going to celebrate with—as I was expecting a pole position—but this can cheer you up instead..”
Both of them watched me with curious eyes as I pulled out a small box. I hadn’t done this in years, but I remembered how Ma used to sneak these into his bags on race weekends when he was younger—homemade mithai, his favourite. He used to often preserve the traditions for race day as good luck or have it to celebrate his victories. After my talk with Axel yesterday, I’d gone to a local store to grab some things to take back home and when I’d spotted the ingredients, it was like there was something bigger that was pushing me to latch on to the chance I’d been given. By the time I’d reached back to my suite, I was exhausted, but I knew how much it would mean.
Vedant’s eyes softened as he stared at the box, recognition flickering across his face. He hesitated for a moment, then took it from my hands.
“You… made it?” He asked, his voice quiet, almost as if the memories of Ma making it for him came rushing to him in that second.
I nodded, biting my lower lip. “Ma taught me… foryou.”
When he looked back at me, his eyes were filled with more than just the touch of grief; there was love and the pain he felt.
Vedant opened the box, the faint scent of cardamom and sugar filling the small room. He picked up one of the sweets, studying it for a second before popping it into his mouth. His eyes closed, and his shoulders instantly relaxed.
“It tastes the same,” His voice was thick with gratitude and emotion, and I smiled, sitting down next to him.
“She taught me a lot of things you guys loved. It was her favourite pastime activity with us, and then she would quiz me on the measurements,” I chuckled as I stared at the mithai in his hands. “Butthis, we made it so many times, as if she could care less if I forgot any of the other recipes; she wanted me to know this one by heart.”
“You never told us that,” I could feel both of their gaze on me, but I couldn’t look back at them. Talking about Ma and our memories felt like they were my secrets to keep. Like I was keeping her protected in some weird way.
But for the first time, talking about her didn’t feel strange. My throat wasn’t closing up; my heart wasn’t beating like I was running a marathon.
It feltjustright.
I shrugged, unsure if saying anything could justify my actions.
“Thanks, little storm.” I froze, the nickname hitting me like an unexpected wave, crashing over me with memories of him and Ma calling me that, the ones I thought I’d tucked away. I hadn’t heard him call me that in years—it was a nickname he’d come up with when we were kids, which Ma absolutely loved. They both loved to say that there was always a storm brewing in me, and it took was one moment before I raged, what I thought was cute for a second, irritated me and they only laughed because I’d proved them right. “You didn’t have to, but it helped.”