On his flight back to Germany, Luca marinated everything that had unfolded in the garage after the Chinese Grand Prix.
The thrill of the event itself had become a memory, but the frozen room he barged into lingered in his mind unaddressed. From the silence to Victor's anger, the day replayed itself, refusing to disappear until he gave it all mental space.
He was on the private jet at high altitude, bound for Berlin. Much like other flights this Summer season, the journey was more breathtaking because of the golden rays and thinner clouds. With his golden-brown skin, Luca's face was fully washed by the sunlight while he stared out.
As usual, opposite him was Manuela. After a brief discussion with Sara about schedules, she sat back in her seat with an exhale and a smile afterwards.
"So… what's the plan when we're in London?" she asked Luca.
"Plan?"
"Your girlfriend. Isabella. You two–what happens next?"
