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FOM Puts Imola On Standby 2026 F1 Crisis Forces Middle East uncertainty forces Formula One Management to put Imola on standby for 2026.
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FOM Puts Imola On Standby 2026 F1 Crisis Forces Middle East uncertainty forces Formula One Management to put Imola on standby for 2026.
How to Watch F1 All Match Live Stream Without Missing Any Race
The complete 2026 Formula 1 streaming guide for fans searching how to watch F1 all match live stream.
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Watch Austrian GP 2026 Live on Any Device – Complete Guide
Catch every moment of the F1 Austrian Grand Prix 2026 with our complete live streaming and television guide.
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Sketches | Andrea Kimi Antonelli
Andrea Kimi Antonelli × Elisabeth Wolff
CHAPTER SIX
Shanghai International Circuit, Race Day, March 15th, 2026
The air felt different.
Not heavier, not louder.
Something had shifted.
Kimi noticed it the moment he stepped into the garage. No chaos, no unnecessary noise. Just people moving with purpose, voices lower than usual. Even the engineers didn’t fill the silence with small talk.
Eyes didn't linger on him, like his own people were scared to look at him too long.
Pole position did that.
It changed how people looked at you.
It changed how you were expected to behave.
But, everyone was pretending nothing had changed. Mostly because no one wanted him to feel the pressure. Someone didn't think he could bring it home, he knew that.
His father was there. He always didn't mention how much was at stake that morning.
Kimi pulled on his gloves slowly, flexing his fingers once, twice. Same routine. Same rhythm. Nothing new.
That was the point.
Across the grid, George stood surrounded by engineers, calm in that effortless way that came from years of being here. Fighting at the front. Managing expectations. Managing himself.
But he was in the second place box this time.
Kimi stood next to his car in the first one.
Their eyes met briefly.
George gave him a small nod.
Not as friendly as he used to be. Not cold either.
Kimi slipped his helmet on.
This was it.
Game on.
Kimi knew the Ferraris just behind him and George were better at the starts then them. He was prepared for one of them to try and slice through. He had to fend off three of the best drivers on the grid.
The first red light flashed on.
He took a deep breath.
The second one blinked. Kimi's hands clutched the steering wheel.
Third red light.
Remember to breathe, race boy.
Lisi's voice cut through the haze.
Fourth.
He breathed in and out. Closed his eyes for a second. A splash of blonde hair and charcoal flashed behind his lids.
Fifth.
Lights out.
Kimi reacted instantly, clutch biting at exactly the right moment. No wheelspin, no hesitation. The car launched forward like it had been waiting for that exact command all weekend.
Lewis was better. He slices through like it was the easiest thing ever.
Charles tried it too.
Not today.
He slotted back into P3, leading on George in P4.
In turn 1, Kimi hung on P2 like his life depended on it.
The opening laps blurred into precision. Tire temperatures, brake balance, tiny adjustments on the wheel, everything Kimi had drilled into muscle memory.
When Lap 2 started, Kimi gained on Lewis, using all the mechanical advantage the Mercedes had through turn 13 and regained the lead.
In the following laps, George overtook Charles and Lewis, taking the second place behind Kimi.
The race played itself out conveniently to Kimi. George never came too close and Kimi led comfortably after the Safety Car restart.
On the last lap, Bono's voice rang into his ears.
“Get in there, Kimi!”
And just like that, Kimi crossed the finishing line first.
His first win in F1.
“YES! Yes, man! We did it, we did it!” Kimi laughed in his helmet.
“First win! This one you're going to remember forever!” Bono said back.
The moment he stopped the car, it hit him properly.
He pulled himself out too fast this time, almost stumbling slightly as his legs caught up with everything else.
Then the noise rushed in.
People were shouting. Cheering. He ran to his team. To his dad.
“Kimi!”
“P1!”
“Incredible!”
Hands on his helmet, his shoulders—
He laughed, breathless, overwhelmed, and threw him at them.
When it took his helmet off, it was very clear how emotional he was.
His eyes were glassy already.
He blinked hard, like he didn’t want it to happen here.
Didn’t quite succeed.
He cried when the interviewer asked him the first question.
When he stepped down from the podium, stinking of champagne, the first thing he did was look for his phone.
It was exploding with texts and calls but he was searching for one name and one name only.
Lisi.
It rang barely twice before Lisi picked up. Her smile and her tear-streaked face filled his screen.
“You're crying.”
“Yeah. Haven't stopped since lap 30.” Lisi's voice faltered. “You are a race winner, Andrea.”
“Draw this one.” Kimi said “Please. I don’t want pictures. I want your hands drawing this. I want you to make this moment eternal. Can you do that for me?”
Lisi cried a little more at the request.
“Yes, yes. Of course, I'll draw it. I'll draw it a thousand times for you, Andrea. I'm so damn proud of you.”
“You drew the first time I sat in a F1 car. I want you to draw the first time I win in one too.”
“Stop it” Lisi whispered, drying her eyes on her sleeves.
Kimi leaned back in his chair slightly, still holding the phone close.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“Home,” she said. “I was watching from the couch. I think I scared my neighbors.”
That made him laugh, properly this time.
“Yeah?”
“I screamed when you overtook Lewis.
Like… actually screamed.”
He shook his head, smiling.
“I wish I was there to celebrate this with you.”
That simple line hit him in a way he didn’t expect.
He looked at her again.
“…yeah.” He nodded. “Me too, Lisi.”
Lisi studied him for a moment, her expression softening as the initial wave of emotion settled.
“You’re different right now,” she said quietly.
Kimi raised an eyebrow slightly.
“Different how?”
She smiled.
“Lighter.”
He exhaled slowly through his nose.
“…maybe.”
“You deserve that,” she added.
He didn’t respond immediately.
Just looked at her.
“Don’t disappear into it,” she said, a little more serious now, though still gentle. “Not the pressure. Not the expectations. Just… stay like this for a bit.”
Kimi nodded slowly.
“I’ll try.”
A small silence followed.
Then Lisi tilted her head, her voice soft again.
“So… champion.”
He let out a quiet breath, almost like he hadn’t allowed himself to think of it that way yet.
“…It's just one race.”
She shook her head, smiling.
“No. Don’t do that.”
He gave a faint, knowing look.
“You'll make history, Kimi.” Lisi whispered, “You already are.”
Kimi's eyes stung again.
“You're making me cry again.” He muttered, looking up and blinking quickly.
Lisi laughed, softly, genuinely.
“I can't wait to see you.” She added.
“Me too.”
“And I'll give you thousands of drawings.”
Kimi laughed too this time.
“I'll hang every single one of them on the walls, Lisi.”
Sketches | Andrea Kimi Antonelli
Andrea Kimi Antonelli × Elisabeth Wolff
CHAPTER FIVE
Christmas was in five days.
Kimi had stared at Lisi's present for half an hour. He had to decide if sending it via mail or bringing it to her personally. He chose the latter.
His dad had said it was a bad idea.
His mom, on the other hand, had smiled over her coffee and said it was romantic, like that settled the matter entirely. That had been all the encouragement he needed to grab his keys and take the highway.
The snow had started falling somewhere near the French border. Kimi tapped his fingers on the wheel while he waited for the cars ahead to move, the rhythmic motion the only thing keeping his nerves in check. He glanced again at the box on the passenger seat. A red bow sat slightly crooked on top, the tape holding a small note in place. Per Lisi.
The car ahead rolled forward, and his eyes snapped back to the road.
The roads were packed with people trying to get home for the holidays. Cars loaded with suitcases, wrapped presents visible through back windows, kids dozing in the back seats. Everyone rushed toward something warm and familiar. Somewhere along the way, the snow thickened, clinging briefly to the windshield before the wipers brushed it away. The Alps rose dark and quiet in the distance, and for a stretch of the drive, it felt like the world had narrowed to headlights, asphalt, and the steady hum of the engine.
By the time he crossed Monaco’s border, the sky hung low and heavy, headlights stretching into blurred ribbons on wet asphalt. The air was freezing, sharp against his lungs when he cracked the window open, but the snow had turned to light flurries. They melted before touching the ground, disappearing like they’d never been there at all.
His shoulders ached. His legs felt stiff, cramped from hours in the same position. The dashboard clock blinked back at him, confirming what his body already knew: almost five hours straight.
Worth it, he thought, without hesitation.
The Wolff family’s building came into view, tall and familiar in a way that made his stomach twist. He forced himself to take a deep breath as he parked on the narrow street below and cut the engine. The sudden silence felt loud. For a moment, he didn’t move, hands still resting on the wheel, breath fogging the air in front of him.
Bad idea, his brain insisted.
I’m at my boss’s house. In the off-season. To bring his daughter — my girlfriend — a Christmas gift. What am I doing?
He pictured her laugh. The way she scrunched her nose when she concentrated. The way she looked at him sometimes, like he was something steady she could lean on. The doubt quieted.
With one last exhale, he grabbed the box from the passenger seat and stepped out into the cool December air. The freezing breeze bit immediately, turning his cheeks pink and making him pull his jacket tighter around himself.
He’d been to Toto’s house a few times before, always for work-related reasons. Meetings. Brief stops. Conversations about performance and plans and the future. He had never seen Lisi here during those visits. This wasn’t the paddock. This wasn’t Brackley. This was her home.
The street was unusually quiet, the kind of quiet that only came around the holidays. Fewer people, fewer cars. The lights felt softer somehow, warmer. Christmas decorations glowed between elegant buildings — golden garlands, small trees in windows, reflections dancing on the pavement.
Kimi stood there for a second longer, box tucked carefully under his arm, heart beating just a little too fast.
Then he turned toward the entrance and rang the bell. He waited patiently for a few minutes. Then, steady, heavy steps approached and the door opened.
Toto Wolff stood there, the sleeves of his jumper rolled up, his phone in hand. He blinked once when he saw Kimi, eyes flicking from his face to the box then back again.
“Kimi,” he said calmly. “I assume you're not at the wrong address.”
Kimi swallowed. “Hi, sir. No, I am not.”
“Weren't you in Bologna? You drove here,” Toto observed, looking over his shoulder, like he was searching for someone else, but it wasn't really a question.
“Yes.” Kimi answered the same.
“How long?”
“Five hours.”
That earned him a thoughtful look — the kind Toto usually reserved for engineers who had just shown him something unexpected on a data screen. It wasn’t disapproval. Not quite approval either. More like recalibration.
The one that said you did that for my daughter?
Before he could say anything else, light footsteps echoed down the hallway.
“Vati?” Lisi’s voice called out, casual, distracted. “Who is it?”
She appeared a second later, rounding the corner with a jumper pulled over her hands, hair loosely tied back. She was mid-step when her eyes landed on Kimi.
She stopped.
For half a heartbeat, her brain clearly refused to catch up with reality.
“Kimi?” she said, incredulous.
He opened his mouth, but the sound she made cut him off completely — not quite a word, more like a surprised squeak that turned into a laugh. And then she was moving.
She darted past her father without a second thought, arms flying around Kimi’s neck, momentum carrying her forward so hard he had to drop the box on the floor just to catch her. His arms wrapped around her instinctively, lifting her slightly as she clung to him, feet barely brushing the ground.
“Oh my god,” she laughed into his shoulder, breathless. “What are you doing here?!”
He laughed too, the tension he hadn’t even realized he was holding dissolving instantly. “Hi,” he managed. “Surprise.”
Behind them, Toto cleared his throat — pointedly. Loud enough to remind them where they were.
They didn’t move.
Lisi only seemed to register it when she felt Kimi’s laugh vibrate through his chest. She pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes bright, cheeks flushed from the cold and the shock of seeing him.
“You drove here,” she said, realization dawning.
“Yes.”
“From Bologna.”
“Yes.”
She glanced down, finally noticing the box on the floor by his foot. The red bow had shifted slightly.
“For—” she started, then looked back up at him.
“For you,” he said simply. She stared at him like he’d just rewritten gravity, then hugged him again, tighter.
Her expression changed completely, disbelief melting into something soft and stunned. She hugged him again, tighter this time, like she was anchoring herself to him.
Finally, Toto spoke again, dry as ever.
“Well,” he said, folding his arms loosely. “That answers several questions.”
Lisi turned, still half in Kimi’s arms. “Vati—”
“I’m not saying anything,” Toto interrupted, though the corner of his mouth twitched despite himself. “Yet. Come inside before you all freeze.”
Kimi nodded quickly. “Sorry, sir.”
Toto stepped aside, gesturing them in. “Relax. If I were angry, you’d know.”
Inside, the warmth hit them immediately. Lisi still hadn’t fully let go, fingers hooked into the fabric of Kimi’s hoodie like she might lose him if she did. Kimi relaxed immediately, the warmth hitting him like a wave.
“You’re insane,” she murmured.
“Maybe,” he admitted.
Toto hadn’t known what to think when Lisi told him, after Brazil, that she was dating his driver. His driver as in Kimi Antonelli. The boy he had known since he was twelve. The boy he had sponsored all the way through his career. The young man he had pulled strings on the Mercedes board for to get him in F1 at eighteen.
He hadn’t raised his voice. He hadn’t said no. But he’d needed a few days — long walks, late nights, conversations with Susie — to let the idea settle into something that didn’t make his stomach twist.
Because there were lines. And responsibilities. And the instinct, deeply rooted, to protect his daughter from everything. It would have been easier if he wasn't a F1 driver, if politics weren't involved.
But watching Kimi stand there now, shoulders still stiff from the drive, hair damp with melted snow, hands careful around that small wrapped box — that changed things.
Five hours.
Through the Alps.
In December.
Through a storm.
That told Toto more than any conversation ever could.
Susie intercepted Lisi in the hallway with a quiet certainty, fingers curling lightly around her wrist before she could drift back toward the kitchen. It wasn’t a stop so much as a pause — an invitation to breathe.
Kimi was shrugging out of his jacket nearby, shoulders tensing as the warmth of the apartment hit him all at once. He rubbed his hands together, a small shiver running through him, murmuring something polite to Toto as he folded the jacket over his arm. The box had already changed hands, now resting against Lisi’s chest like something fragile.
Susie’s gaze lingered on it. The slightly dented corners. The bow that had clearly been retied more than once.
“Well,” she said gently, a smile tugging at her mouth, “that’s one way to receive gifts.”
Lisi huffed a quiet laugh, cheeks flushing as she adjusted her grip. “He didn’t have to come here for it…”
“But he did,” Susie said softly.
That stopped her.
Susie didn’t say it teasingly. There was no indulgent tone, no humour meant to brush it off. Just a simple statement of fact. Choice. Intention.
She studied her daughter’s face then, the way her eyes kept drifting back to the kitchen despite herself, as if drawn by a thread. There was something different there — not just excitement, not just affection. Something steadier. Something that had weight.
“He’s sweet,” Susie said again, more thoughtfully this time.
Lisi followed her gaze. Kimi stood beside her father now, posture careful but not rigid, listening like every word mattered. He nodded when Toto spoke, hands folded loosely in front of him, dark hair still damp at the edges from melted snow. He looked out of place and entirely committed at the same time.
“He is,” Lisi said quietly.
There was no hesitation in it. No giddy inflection. Just certainty.
Susie felt something in her chest loosen. It was the difference between a crush and a choice. Between someone who showed up when it was easy and someone who showed up because it mattered.
“He looks terrified,” Susie added lightly.
Lisi smiled at that, fond. “He is.”
“And yet,” Susie said, eyes still on him, “he’s here.”
Lisi swallowed, fingers tightening around the box. “Yeah.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The sounds of the apartment hummed softly around them — the kettle in the kitchen, Toto’s low voice, the faint clink of cups.
“You know,” Susie said eventually, turning back to her, “grand gestures fade. They always do.”
Lisi looked at her, listening.
“But effort,” Susie continued, brushing a thumb over the edge of the box, “that lasts. Five hours in winter traffic isn’t about romance. It’s about priority.”
Lisi’s eyes stung unexpectedly. She nodded once, afraid to speak.
Susie smiled, warm and knowing. She leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her daughter’s temple.
“Go,” she said softly. “Before your father decides to interrogate him about tyre degradation.”
Lisi laughed under her breath, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve. She took one last glance at Kimi — still earnest, still steady — and then headed toward the kitchen, holding the box a little closer than before.
When the two women stepped back into the kitchen, the atmosphere shifted almost imperceptibly. Lisi crossed the room first, moving with careful intention, and crouched to place the box beneath the Christmas tree. She adjusted it slightly so the red bow faced outward, as if it belonged there already.
The tree glowed softly in the corner, lights reflecting off the ornaments Susie had collected over the years — races, travels, moments frozen in glass. The box looked small beneath it, but it carried a weight none of the others did.
Toto watched the movement out of the corner of his eye as he filled the kettle. The sound of water hitting metal filled the space between them, steady and grounding.
“So,” he said casually, without turning around. Too casually. “Where were you planning on staying tonight?”
The question landed heavier than it sounded.
Kimi blinked, clearly caught off guard, shoulders stiffening just a fraction. “Uh—” He hesitated, then shrugged, a sheepish half-smile tugging at his mouth. “I didn’t really plan that far ahead.”
Toto arched an eyebrow, finally turning to face him. “And your plan was…?”
Kimi didn’t dress it up. Didn’t try to impress or soften it. “I was going to drive back,” he said simply. “After I gave her the gift.”
For a split second, no one spoke.
The kettle hadn’t even started to warm when Susie turned around, eyes widening in disbelief.
“You drove five hours,” she said, voice sharp with concern, “through snow, and you were going to do it again tonight?”
Kimi winced, like he’d expected that reaction. “It’s fine,” he said quickly. “I’ve done worse.”
That was technically true. He’d sat in a cockpit in Singapore heat for two hours, body pushed to its limits, lungs burning, vision narrowing. That had been worse. But this wasn’t about endurance. It was about judgment.
“No,” Susie said firmly, maternal instinct flaring. “Absolutely not.”
There was no argument in her tone. No room for negotiation.
Toto looked at her. She met his gaze without hesitation — that familiar, unspoken exchange built over years of partnership and parenthood. The kind that didn’t need words because the decision had already been made.
“You’re staying,” Susie said, turning back to Kimi. “You can sleep on the couch. We’ll sort something out in the morning.”
Kimi hesitated. Not because he didn’t want to — but because he was wired to minimize himself in other people’s space. “I don’t want to be a problem—”
“You’re not,” Toto cut in, voice calm but firm. “You’d be stupid and irresponsible to drive back tonight.”
It wasn’t unkind. It was factual. The kind of statement Toto made when he was done weighing options.
There was a brief silence, heavy but not uncomfortable.
Then Kimi nodded once. “Okay,” he said quietly. “Thank you, sir. And ma’am.”
Susie’s expression softened immediately. “You drove five hours in the snow for my daughter,” she said warmly. “Through three countries. You can call me Susie.”
Something in Kimi’s posture eased at that. Just a little. “Thank you, Susie.”
That was when Lisi reappeared in the doorway, having lingered just long enough to overhear the tail end of the conversation. Her eyes flicked between her parents and Kimi, searching.
“He’s staying?” she asked, hope barely contained, like she was afraid to believe it out loud.
“For one night,” Toto said, pointedly.
It didn’t matter. Her smile broke wide and bright anyway. She crossed the room in three quick steps and wrapped her arms around Kimi’s torso, pressing her cheek into his chest.
“Thank you,” she said softly to her parents, for the permission she hadn’t asked for but deeply felt.
Kimi’s arms came around her instinctively, one hand settling at her lower back. Protective. Careful. He pressed a small kiss into her hair, restrained enough to be respectful, natural enough to be honest.
Toto watched them for a long moment.
He noticed the details. The way Kimi didn’t pull her closer when she hugged him — but didn’t let go either. The way Lisi leaned into him without thinking, like it was the most natural thing in the world. The way there was no performance in it. No need to prove anything.
Just comfort.
He exhaled slowly, the tension he hadn’t admitted to himself finally loosening.
Okay, he thought, not ideal, but okay.
Later, Kimi and Lisi sat on the living room floor beside the Christmas tree, its lights casting a warm glow over everything. Lisi had settled against the couch, knees tucked beneath her, the box resting in her lap like it was something fragile.
“You’re going to open it?” Kimi asked, hovering a little awkwardly nearby before finally sitting down beside her. His hands disappeared into the pockets of his hoodie, shoulders slumped now that the drive — and the adrenaline — had fully caught up with him.
She smiled at him, still a little breathless, like she hadn’t completely wrapped her head around the fact that he was actually here. “You drove five hours,” she said softly. “Of course I am.”
She leaned forward and untied the red bow with care, fingers gentle, almost reverent. The paper came away quietly, and she lifted the lid.
Inside was a thick sketchbook — heavy in her hands, textured paper, the kind that didn’t warp or bleed. Her breath caught immediately.
“Kimi…”
Beneath it lay a neatly arranged set of professional pencils — graphite sticks, charcoal, fine liners — all the good ones. The kind she’d once stopped in front of a shop window to admire, then laughed off because they were “too expensive to justify.”
Her fingers hovered for a moment, overwhelmed, before she noticed the small envelope tucked between the first pages of the sketchbook.
She pulled it free and opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
It took her a second to realize it was her.
She was laughing, completely unguarded, head tilted slightly to the side — a candid moment from London she hadn’t even noticed being captured. The light caught in her hair, soft and warm, the expression unmistakably real.
She turned it over.
Per quando ti dimentichi quanto sei bella.
(For when you forget how beautiful you are.)
Her chest tightened instantly.
“It's a copy. I have the original one.”
He reached in his pocket and fished his wallet, opening to show her the photo tucked between cards and receipts.
“Kimi…” Her voice cracked. “You didn't have to… It's way too expensive.”
“I remembered you saying the paper mattered,” he said quietly, suddenly very focused on the carpet beneath the tree. “And that good graphite makes a difference. And—” He shrugged slightly. “I just wanted you to have things that don’t make you second-guess yourself.”
She didn’t say anything. She just set the photo carefully back inside the sketchbook and leaned toward him, closing the small space between them. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, forehead resting against his.
“You’re unbelievable,” she whispered. “You know that, right? You must have paid a fortune for these things.”
He laughed softly, arms coming around her in return. “I'm just a little crazy about you. And you dad pays me a ridiculous amount of money for what I do.” That earned him a laugh.
Lisi pulled back just enough to look at him, then glanced instinctively toward the hallway. Quiet. Still. No footsteps. No voices.
So she leaned in and kissed him.
It was gentle. Tender. The kind of kiss that carried gratitude more than urgency, that said I see you without needing words.
Kimi melted into it, one hand lifting instinctively to cradle her jaw, thumb brushing softly along her cheek as he tilted her face just a little closer, careful, perfectly content.
He lingered with his forehead against hers a moment longer, breathing in the quiet of the room and the faint scent of pine from the tree. The soft glow of the Christmas lights painted gold across their faces, catching the edges of her hair and the soft curve of her smile.
“Wait,” she murmured, pulling back just enough to look at him with a small, secretive smile.
“Wait for what?” Kimi asked, brow furrowed slightly, already anticipating that whatever she had planned would surprise him.
“For this,” she said, reaching behind the tree where the branches thickened and the lights blended into warm, soft shadows.
When she came back into view, she held a slim folder wrapped in brown paper, tied with a neat green ribbon. Her fingers fiddled nervously with it, betraying the confidence she tried to hold.
“I didn’t think you’d actually be here when I gave it to you,” she admitted softly. “I was going to send it to Bologna and make you open it on FaceTime.”
Kimi took it carefully, his curiosity sharpening. “You bought me something?” he asked, a faint teasing edge in his voice.
She shook her head, smiling but nervous. “No. I made it. Open it.”
He untied the ribbon slowly, peeling back the paper. Inside was a thin leather portfolio, soft and warm to the touch. He opened it, and his breath caught.
The first page was a sketch of him in profile, helmet under his arm, eyes focused, serious. The lines were crisp and alive, capturing the weight of concentration he wore like armor on the track.
He turned the page. Another — him sitting on the pit wall, elbows on his knees, suit half unzipped, head tipped back as if he were laughing at some joke, utterly relaxed, completely unguarded.
Another. Him in the car, mid-corner, lines sharp and alive, almost vibrating on the page, the motion frozen perfectly in graphite.
Then one that made his chest tighten — him asleep on a flight, head resting against the window, mouth slightly open, completely unselfconscious.
And then one that made him stop entirely. A drawing of them dancing together at his friend's party in Bologna after Monza, her hair caught in the swirl of motion, his hand steady on her back, smiles mirrored across both their faces. It was intimate and raw, a moment only they had ever truly shared. She had sketched the lyrics of the song they had danced to in the corner of the page.
“Lisi…” His voice was rough, barely a whisper.
She shifted on the couch, tucking her legs under her, eyes soft but steady on him. “I kept sketching you without even meaning to,” she admitted. “In garages. On planes. On my iPad. Every time I drew something that felt… safe… it was you.”
His chest tightened painfully, the weight of it pressing against him. He flipped through the pages again slowly, absorbing the care and attention in every line.
“These are incredible,” he said, voice catching. “You’re incredible.”
She shook her head, a little embarrassed but smiling. “They’re not for school. Or an exhibition. They’re just… mine. And now they’re yours.”
He looked up at her, really looked, the courage it must have taken for her to make this clear, tangible for him hitting him all at once.
“You don’t have to carry them around,” she added quickly, shyly. “I just thought—”
“I’m keeping them,” he cut her off immediately, a firm, quiet conviction in his voice. “All of them. And I'll absolutely bring them with me everywhere. Are you kidding me? This is… This is the best thing I've ever received.”
She laughed softly, shaking her head, and he reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, thumb brushing against her knuckles. “For seeing me like this.”
“Always,” she replied, squeezing his hand.
They leaned in again, foreheads touching, the Christmas lights casting warm patterns across the room. Outside, winter pressed cold and dark against the windows. Inside, everything felt quiet and safe.
She stayed quiet for a moment after that, just watching him. Watching the way his thumb kept tracing slow, absent-minded circles over her knuckles, like he needed the contact to ground himself. Watching how his shoulders—always so tense, so ready—had finally dropped.
The portfolio lay open on the floor between them, pages catching the glow of the Christmas lights. The drawings felt alive in that soft light, like memories given shape.
Kimi cleared his throat softly. “You know,” he said, attempting lightness but missing by a mile, “I don’t think anyone’s ever looked at me this long without a stopwatch involved.”
She laughed, quietly, warmly. “Good. You deserve better than lap times.”
He smiled at that, real and unguarded, then leaned forward to close the portfolio carefully, reverently, as if it might bruise if he wasn’t gentle. He set it beside him and reached out again, pulling her closer until her shoulder rested against his chest.
She fit there easily. Too easily. Like it had always been meant to be that way.
They sat like that for a while, listening to the faint sounds of the apartment settling around them—the hum of the heating, muted voices drifting from the kitchen, the occasional clink of ceramic. Outside, the world was cold and dark, but inside the living room glowed with quiet warmth.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” she admitted softly, her cheek pressed against his hoodie.
He frowned slightly. “Why?”
“Because it was complicated,” she said honestly. “Because it was inconvenient. Because it would’ve been easier not to.”
He huffed a quiet laugh, tilting his head so his temple rested against hers. “Yeah. That’s usually when I decide to do something.”
She smiled, fingers curling into the fabric at his side. “Thank you. For choosing me.”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he shifted just enough to look down at her, dark eyes serious in a way that made her breath hitch.
“There wasn’t really a choice,” he said simply. “I just… went where I wanted to be.”
Her throat tightened.
She leaned up and kissed him again — slow, soft, lingering. Not rushed. Not stolen. Just theirs. His hand slid to her back, steady and warm, thumb brushing small, comforting arcs as if to say I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.
A dramatic gasp cut through the quiet.
They sprang apart instantly.
“You are disgusting!,” Jack’s voice announced from the hallway, pure theatrical outrage. “I asked for hot chocolate like five minutes ago. Mum said to come get you.”
Lisi groaned, dropping her face into her hands. “Jack!”
Kimi froze, eyes wide, then stood so fast he nearly knocked over the portfolio. “Hi,” he said automatically, like he’d just been caught by race control.
Jack squinted at him. “You’re the driver. Vati's driver. Why were you kissing my sister?”
“Yes I'm a driver,” Kimi said. “I—uh—sorry… what?”
Jack sighed deeply, like a man burdened by the world. “Whatever. Mum said I could have extra marshmallows if I came here and got you. And you,” he pointed accusingly at Lisi “are banned from kissing boys.”
She laughed, standing and ruffling his hair. “You, good sir, have not got yourself a deal, I'm sorry.”
As Jack stomped back toward the living room, muttering about betrayal and sugar shortages, Lisi paused at the doorway and turned back to Kimi. Her expression softened instantly.
She crossed the small distance between them and stopped him with a hand on his chest.
“This,” she said quietly, eyes shining, “is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me.”
He raised an eyebrow, a familiar hint of sarcasm slipping in. “What, the sketchbook? Thank god I’m here to save your low standards.”
She snorted, shaking her head. “Stupid. You know I meant the drive.”
His smile gentled at that. He leaned down, brushing a quick, soft kiss to her forehead.
“Worth every kilometer,” he murmured.
From the living room, Jack yelled, “LISI!”
They laughed together, quietly, and for the first time that night, Kimi felt it fully settle in his chest. He was exactly where he was supposed to be.
Lisi lingered there for a moment after Jack’s voice faded back into the kitchen, her hand still resting on Kimi’s chest. She could feel his heartbeat under her palm—steady now, no longer racing from nerves or the drive or the weight of walking into her family’s space. It grounded her more than she expected.
“Come on,” she said softly. “Before my brother starts a rebellion.”
He nodded, but before following her, he glanced once more at the leather portfolio on the floor. Almost unconsciously, he picked it up, tucking it under his arm with care, like something precious rather than paper and graphite.
She noticed.
Her lips curved into a small, private smile.
The living room smelled like cocoa and something sweet baking in the oven. Jack was already perched cross-legged on the rug, marshmallows floating dangerously close to the rim of his mug, while Susie sat on the couch watching him with amused patience. Toto stood near the window, phone in hand, half-listening to something work-related while pretending not to watch the two of them enter the room together.
Kimi hovered for half a second, unsure where to stand, until Lisi reached back and laced her fingers through his, tugging him forward without ceremony.
That settled it.
“Hot chocolate?” Susie asked, already rising.
“Yes, please,” Kimi said quickly, polite reflex kicking in.
“With marshmallows,” Jack added, dead serious. “Otherwise it’s not real.”
Kimi nodded solemnly. “I agree.”
Jack studied him for a long moment, then gave a decisive nod. “Okay. You can stay.”
Lisi laughed, squeezing Kimi’s hand.
They settled onto the couch together, close but respectful, knees brushing. Kimi held his mug carefully, warmth seeping into his fingers, shoulders finally relaxing as the fatigue caught up with him. His body ached now that it was safe to do so — long drive, tension, adrenaline slowly ebbing away — but there was something comforting in it too. Like proof of effort spent well.
Lisi leaned into him, her head resting lightly against his shoulder. Not hiding. Not apologetic. Just natural.
Toto watched that more than he watched his phone.
“You look tired,” Susie observed gently.
Kimi smiled faintly. “I am.”
“Good tired?” Lisi asked quietly, tilting her head to look up at him.
He met her eyes, something soft and sincere there. “Very.”
She smiled and let her head settle back against him, fingers absently tracing the seam of his sleeve.
Jack slurped loudly, then peered at the leather portfolio Kimi held to his side like something precious “What’s that?”
Kimi hesitated, instinctively glancing at Lisi.
She nodded once.
“It’s a gift,” he said. “From your sister.”
Jack leaned forward, curiosity winning. “Is it cool?”
Kimi didn’t even hesitate. “It’s the coolest thing I own.”
That earned him a look from Toto — brief, assessing, but not unkind. Something eased further in his expression.
Jack’s feet swung idly above the rug as he cradled his mug, marshmallows melting into a dubious-looking island. He watched Kimi over the rim for a while, quiet in that way kids get when they’re deciding whether someone is worth their questions. Finally, he leaned forward.
“So,” he said, very seriously, “you're a F1 driver.”
Kimi smiled, already sensing the shift. “Yeah.”
Jack straightened. “I do karting.”
That did it.
Kimi’s eyebrows lifted, genuine interest sparking instantly. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Jack nodded, proud. “I have my own helmet. And gloves. And my kart is black and silver like Mercedes colors. But I want a faster one.”
Lisi bit her lip to keep from laughing. She could practically see the bond forming in real time.
“What class?” Kimi asked, leaning forward now, elbows on his knees, hot chocolate forgotten.
Jack blinked. “Uh. I don't know.” Then, hurriedly, “But I’m good.”
“I believe you,” Kimi said without missing a beat.
“EasyKart 60 Under 10" Susie added, taking away their cups. She shot Kimi a look. “Don’t encourage him.”
“How is it going?” Kimi continued.
Jack launched into it immediately, hands moving as he talked, explaining corners with the seriousness of a seasoned engineer. Kimi listened like it mattered — because to him, it did — nodding, asking questions, occasionally correcting gently.
“And when you go into the corner,” Kimi said, reaching for a napkin and a spoon, when Jack asked about how to turn the kart into a tight chicane “you don’t want to turn too much. You want it smooth, so you don't spin.” He demonstrated, sliding the spoon in a clean arc across the napkin.
Jack leaned so far forward he nearly spilled his drink. “That’s what my coach says!”
“Your coach is smart,” Kimi said solemnly.
Jack beamed.
“Do you want to see my car?” Kimi asked suddenly.
Jack froze. “Your… car? Dad's car?”
Lisi glanced at Kimi, amused. Kimi shrugged lightly. “It’s for educational purposes."
Before anyone could object, he pulled his phone from his pocket and unlocked it, turning the screen toward Jack.
“This is it,” he said.
On the screen there was a photo of his Mercedes single-seater in the garage. Sleek. Low. Aggressive. The kind of machine that looked barely real. The big 12 shining on the nose.
Jack sucked in a sharp breath. “Whoa.”
He scooted closer, nearly crawling into Kimi’s personal space without realizing it.
“That’s huge,” he whispered.
“Only a little,” Kimi smiled. He slipped through photos “See this? That’s the steering wheel.”
Jack’s jaw dropped. “It has buttons.”
“So many buttons,” Kimi confirmed. “Different ones for different things. Brake balance. Engine modes. Radio.”
Jack’s eyes flicked up. “You remember all of them?”
Kimi tapped his temple. “This and a lot of practice.”
Jack nodded, absorbing it like gospel.
“Can it go really fast?” he asked, voice hushed.
Kimi’s smile turned playful. “Very.”
“How fast?”
He pretended to think. “Fast enough that your mom doesn’t want me to tell you the number.”
“Hey,” Susie called lightly from the kitchen.
Jack giggled.
“What about crashes?” Jack asked next, quieter now, curiosity edged with concern.
Kimi didn’t brush it off. He considered him seriously. “They happen sometimes. But the car is built to keep me safe. And I wear a lot of protection. Same for you in karting.”
Jack nodded slowly. “I don’t like crashing.”
“No one does,” Kimi said gently. “But that’s why we learn. And why we respect the car.”
Jack looked back at the photo, then up at him again. “Do you think I could be like you?”
The room went a little still. Toto's eyes snapped to his son.
Kimi didn’t answer right away. He locked his phone and set it aside, giving Jack his full attention.
“I think,” he said carefully, “that if you love it, and you work hard, and you listen to the people trying to help you… you can be whatever version of that is right for you.”
Jack considered this. Then smiled. “Okay.”
Lisi watched the exchange, something warm and tight blooming in her chest. It wasn’t just that Kimi was good with him. It was that he took him seriously.
Jack finished his hot chocolate in a rush and slid the mug aside. “When I’m in F1,” he announced, “you can help me.”
Kimi laughed, soft and genuine. “Deal.”
Jack held out his pinky.
Kimi didn’t hesitate. He hooked his own around it.
From the couch, Toto watched the interaction quietly. No performance. No ego. Just patience, excitement, care.
He took a slow sip of his drink and allowed himself a small, private thought.
Yeah, okay. This one’s good one.
Later, when Jack was shepherded off to bed and Susie followed with promises of one last story, the apartment grew quieter. The lights dimmed, the Christmas tree left glowing softly in the corner like a held breath.
Toto set his mug down on the counter with a soft, deliberate clink. The casual warmth of the room didn’t disappear, but it shifted — like a breeze through still air. Susie pretended to be absorbed in tidying the kitchen, though she didn’t miss a thing.
“So,” Toto said, turning fully toward Kimi now. His voice was calm, even. “Five hours is not a casual decision.”
Kimi felt it immediately — that familiar tightening in his chest that came whenever Toto’s tone shifted from conversational to intentional. Not anger. Not suspicion. Just precision. He straightened slightly, instinctive, respectful, but he didn’t take a step back. He stayed exactly where he was.
“No, sir,” he said.
Toto studied him for a moment longer than strictly necessary. He’d done this countless times before—reading drivers, engineers, rivals. He knew how to spot rehearsed answers. He also knew what it looked like when someone wasn’t hiding anything at all.
“Why?” Toto asked.
The word landed quietly. No edge. No trap. Just a question.
Lisi felt it before she heard it—the way Kimi inhaled, slow and steady, as if grounding himself. She didn’t look at him, but she leaned a fraction closer, her shoulder brushing his arm. Not to shield him. Just to be there.
“Because she matters,” Kimi said.
No qualifiers. No explanations. No attempt to justify the risk or the weather or the timing. He didn’t talk about love or sacrifice or grand gestures. He didn’t even mention the drive again.
Just the truth.
The room went still. The kettle clicked softly as it finished heating. Outside, snow whispered faintly against the windows.
Toto didn’t respond right away.
He watched Kimi’s face — open, steady. No bravado. No expectation of praise. Just a quiet certainty that didn’t need defending. Toto had seen young men posture before. He had seen them crumble under scrutiny. This was neither.
This was a choice.
Finally, Toto nodded once.
“All right,” he said.
That was it.
No warning about boundaries. No reminder of roles or responsibilities. No speech about consequences. He didn’t need to say any of it. The nod carried something heavier — recognition. Acceptance of intent, if not yet of outcome.
Something unspoken settled into the room, easing the last of the tension Lisi hadn’t even realized she was holding. She let out a breath and glanced at her father.
Toto met her eyes briefly. There was no interrogation there either. Just a quiet acknowledgment: I see it too.
Susie smiled to herself as she wiped an already-clean counter.
Kimi didn’t smile. Not yet. But his shoulders eased, just a fraction, like a weight he hadn’t named had been set down.
Toto turned slightly, already shifting the moment back toward normalcy. “You’ll want to leave early in the morning,” he added, practical as ever. “Traffic will be worse after nine.”
“Yes, sir,” Kimi said, then hesitated. “Thank you.”
Toto paused, then gave him a small, almost imperceptible half-smile. “Get some rest. You look like you drove five hours.”
That did it. Kimi laughed softly, the tension finally breaking.
Lisi reached for his hand again, squeezing it once, grateful and grounding all at once.
The conversation moved on — to weather, to travel plans, to Jack who had asked if Kimi could come watch his next karting race — but something had shifted for good.
It wasn’t approval stamped and signed.
It was something quieter.
Trust, tentatively placed.
When Toto retired for the night and Susie followed, Lisi exhaled slowly, like she’d been holding something in her lungs without realizing it. She turned to Kimi, eyes shining.
“You survived,” she whispered.
He smiled tiredly. “Barely.”
She laughed and shifted closer, curling into his side again. He wrapped an arm around her automatically, resting his chin lightly atop her head.
They sat there in the quiet, the kind that didn’t demand conversation. The kind that lets you feel things without naming them.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she said after a while, voice soft and vulnerable in a way she rarely let herself be.
He tightened his arm around her just a fraction. “Me too.”
She tilted her head, looking up at him. “You know this changes things, right?”
He met her gaze steadily. “Yeah.”
“Scares you?”
A pause. Honest.
“A little,” he admitted. Then, quieter, “But losing this would scare me more.”
Her breath hitched. She leaned up and kissed him — not quick, not tentative. Slow and sure. A promise more than a question.
When they pulled apart, she rested her forehead against his, smiling.
“Stay,” she murmured. Not just for the night.
He understood.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said.
Lisi padded quietly down the stairs, socked feet barely making a sound against the wood. The apartment had settled into that late-night stillness where even the heating seemed to breathe more softly. Most of the lights were off now, save for the Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, still glowing low and gold like it was keeping watch.
Kimi lay stretched out on the couch, blanket pulled all the way up to his nose, dark hair messy against the cushion. He looked half-asleep, eyes closed, arms folded loosely over his chest like he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with himself in someone else’s house.
She stopped a few steps away, just watching him for a second.
It hit her all over again — he had driven five hours, crossed borders, navigated snow and doubt and her father’s front door, and now he was here, trying to take up as little space as possible.
She took another step.
Kimi’s eyes opened instantly.
He startled when he saw her standing there, then immediately sat up a little, panic flashing across his face. “What are you doing here?” he whispered harshly. “If Toto sees you, he’ll kill me. And then he’ll pull my contract. Probably in that order.”
She bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Relax.”
“I’m serious,” he insisted, lowering his voice even more, like Toto might materialize out of the walls. “You’re not supposed to—”
“He won’t,” she said calmly, stepping closer. “He’s asleep. Mum too.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
She cut him off by lifting the edge of the blanket and sliding underneath it with him, quick and deliberate. The couch dipped slightly with her weight. The blanket fell back into place, cocooning them together.
Kimi froze.
Every muscle in his body locked up like he’d just been told race control was watching.
“Lisi,” he hissed, eyes wide. “This is a terrible idea.”
She turned onto her side to face him, close enough now that her knee brushed his thigh, her forehead almost touching his shoulder. “You already drove five hours in a snowstorm to my parents’ house,” she whispered. “I think the terrible-idea threshold has been crossed.”
His mouth twitched despite himself. “That was different.”
“How?”
“That was… external stupidity,” he said weakly. “This is internal stupidity.”
She smiled softly and reached up, fingers brushing his cheek, grounding him. He leaned into it before he could stop himself.
“You’re allowed to exist,” she murmured. “You don’t have to disappear just because you’re here.”
Something in his chest gave at that.
He let out a slow breath, shoulders finally sinking back into the couch. “I don’t want to mess things up for you,” he admitted quietly. “With him. With all of this.”
“I know,” she said. “That’s why you won’t.”
She shifted closer, tucking herself fully against his side, head settling over his heart. It was a natural movement, unforced, like she’d done it a hundred times before. His arm hovered for half a second — instinct fighting caution — before wrapping around her waist, pulling her in gently.
The blanket trapped their warmth between them.
“See?” she whispered. “No lightning. No angry Austrian appearing out of nowhere.”
He huffed a soft laugh, the tension easing out of him inch by inch. “Yet.”
She tilted her head up to look at him. “You’re safe here.”
The words landed heavier than she’d intended. He looked down at her, eyes dark and thoughtful in the dim light.
“So are you,” he said quietly.
They lay there like that, breathing in sync, the Christmas lights blinking softly across the ceiling. Her fingers traced slow, idle shapes on his chest, right over his hoodie, like she was memorizing the feel of him there.
“I’ve never done this,” he murmured after a while.
“Sneaking into your girlfriend’s living room?” she teased.
“Letting myself stay,” he corrected. “Usually I leave. Before it gets… real.”
She stilled, then looked up at him again. “And now?”
He tightened his arm around her, just slightly. “Now I’m tired. And warm. And I don’t want to move.”
Her smile was soft and impossibly fond. She shifted up, pressing a gentle kiss to his jaw, then another just below his ear.
“Good,” she whispered. “Then stay.”
He closed his eyes, resting his cheek against her hair, the last of the day finally catching up with him.
“You're cold,” Kimi whispered, hands running up her back.
“You're hogging the blanket.” Lisi answered, tucking herself more into his side.
Kimi pulled away just enough to pull off his hoodie and give her to her. He adjusted the shirt he was wearing on his shoulders and watched as Lisi slipped on his hoodie. The hoodie swallowed her.
The sleeves slid past her hands, bunching over her fingers, the hem brushing the tops of her thighs. It still held his warmth, faintly smelled like him — clean soap, winter air, something unmistakably Kimi. She tugged it down instinctively, curling into it like it was made for this.
He watched her quietly, something soft and unguarded settling over his face.
“Better?” he murmured.
She nodded, burrowing closer, cheek pressing back against his chest. “Much.”
He pulled the blanket up again, careful, deliberate, like every movement mattered. This time when he wrapped his arm around her, there was no hesitation. His hand rested warm and steady at her waist, thumb tracing a slow, absent-minded line there.
Outside, somewhere far below, a car passed. The sound faded quickly, swallowed by the quiet.
“You know,” he said after a moment, voice low, almost shy, “this is the first time I’ve slept in a place that isn’t… temporary.”
She tilted her head slightly, listening. “What do you mean?”
“Hotels. Team houses. Apartments I never unpack properly because I know I’ll be gone again in a week.” He paused. “Even my place in Bologna feels like a pit stop sometimes.”
She turned just enough to look up at him. “And this doesn’t?”
He thought about it. The tree lights. The hush. Her weight against him like she belonged there.
“No,” he admitted. “This feels… anchored.”
Her chest warmed at the word. She shifted so she was facing him more fully, knee draped over his thigh, their foreheads nearly touching.
“That’s because it’s home,” she said softly. “Mine. And I wanted you here.”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed.
“You don’t say things lightly,” he said.
“No,” she agreed. “Neither do you.”
They stayed like that for a while, eyes tracing familiar lines in each other’s faces — the curve of his mouth, the concentration crease between his brows, the way her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks in the dim light.
“You’re really here,” she murmured, like she was still half-afraid he’d vanish if she named it.
“I am,” he said. “I didn’t come all this way to leave quietly.”
Her hand slid up, fingers brushing the edge of his jaw. He leaned into it again, instinctively, like earlier — a small, honest gesture that said more than words ever could.
She kissed him then.
Not rushed. Not hungry. Just soft and sure, lips warm against his, lingering long enough to feel his breath hitch before he kissed her back. His hand slipped up her back, fingers fisting gently in the fabric of his hoodie like he needed to hold on to something real.
They broke apart slowly, foreheads touching again.
“If Toto catches us,” he murmured, half-serious now, “I’m blaming you.”
She smiled, eyes closing. “I’ll take full responsibility.”
A beat.
“…He’ll still yell at you,” she added.
He snorted quietly. “Fair.”
Her breathing slowed first. He felt it beneath his palm, the steady rhythm easing, her body relaxing fully against his like she trusted him to keep watch. He adjusted slightly so she was more comfortable, pressing a kiss into her hair without thinking.
The tree lights blinked softly.
Minutes passed. Maybe more.
Just before sleep claimed him too, she murmured, barely audible, “Thank you for staying.”
He tightened his arm around her, pressing his lips to her temple.
“Always,” he whispered back.
And in the quiet glow of the living room — beneath a borrowed blanket, wrapped in a borrowed hoodie, in a house that was beginning to feel like more than just borrowed space — they finally let the night have them.
Morning arrived gently.
Not with alarms or raised voices, but with pale winter light slipping through the curtains and the quiet, domestic sounds of a house waking up — the distant hum of the coffee machine, the soft clink of a mug against the counter, footsteps moving unhurriedly across the kitchen floor. Susie and Toto stood side by side at the kitchen counter, sipping coffee.
Toto stood at the counter in a grey jumper, hands wrapped around his mug, eyes still heavy with sleep as he stared out the window at the muted Monaco morning. The sea was steel-colored, calm. The kind of calm that made him think before speaking.
He took a sip, then turned to his wife.
“What do you think about all of this? Kimi and Lisi?”
Susie didn’t answer right away.
She leaned back against the counter, one ankle crossed over the other, mug warm between her palms. She watched the steam curl upward for a moment, thoughtful rather than hesitant. This wasn’t a question that needed speed. It needed honesty.
“I think,” she said finally, “that he showed up.”
Toto glanced at her.
“He didn’t text. He didn’t send something with a driver. He didn’t wait until it was convenient,” she continued calmly. “He drove five hours through snow to bring her something he chose carefully, and then he planned to turn around and leave without asking for anything in return.”
Toto exhaled slowly through his nose. “That part… yes.”
“That tells me a lot,” Susie said. “About his character. About his priorities.”
Toto stared back out the window. The sea looked colder now that the sun was higher. “It also tells me he doesn’t always think things through.”
Susie smiled faintly. “He’s nineteen.”
“That’s not an excuse,” Toto said automatically — then paused. “…Well. It is. A partial one.”
She tilted her head, studying him. “You’re not worried about him hurting her.”
It wasn’t phrased as a question.
Toto’s jaw tightened slightly, then relaxed. “No,” he admitted. “I’m worried about the opposite.”
“That he’ll give too much?” Susie asked softly.
“That he’ll fold himself into whatever shape he thinks keeps her safe,” Toto said. “That he’ll forget he’s allowed to take up space.”
Susie’s expression softened. “You noticed that too.”
Toto hummed. “The way he stands. The way he asks permission without asking. He’s constantly measuring himself.”
“And yet,” Susie said gently, “he didn’t measure himself when it came to her.”
Silence settled again, not uncomfortable. Just heavy with thought.
“She’s different with him,” Susie added. “Did you see her last night?”
“Yes,” Toto said quietly. “That’s what scares me.”
She turned to face him fully now. “Why?”
“Because she wasn’t performing,” he said. “She wasn’t playing the clever daughter or the composed adult. She was… soft. Unguarded. That’s not something she gives easily.”
Susie nodded. “Which means she feels safe.”
Toto closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again. “And if that safety breaks—”
“It will hurt,” Susie finished for him. “Yes.”
Another pause.
Then Susie stepped closer and reached out, resting her hand over his where it held the mug.
“But you can’t protect her from pain by refusing her joy,” she said gently. “You taught her that yourself.”
He looked down at their joined hands, then back at her. “You’re good at using my own words against me.”
“I’ve had years of practice.”
The corner of his mouth lifted despite himself.
“And Kimi?” Toto asked after a moment. “He’s under my responsibility. Professionally.”
“And personally,” Susie added.
Toto sighed. “That’s the problem.”
“No,” she said softly. “That’s the complication. Not the problem.”
He considered that.
“He looked terrified last night,” Toto said. “Not of me. Of disappointing her.”
Susie smiled, small and knowing. “Good.”
Toto raised an eyebrow.
“It means he cares,” she said. “The dangerous ones are never afraid.”
Toto let that sink in.
They stood there quietly for another moment, the coffee growing cooler in their hands, the house slowly filling with light.
Then, from the living room came a soft creak.
Toto’s gaze lifted instinctively toward the doorway.
Susie followed it and smiled.
Toto’s hand froze on the doorframe.
He leaned just enough to see without fully entering, careful not to disturb the quiet scene before him. There, on the couch, they were exactly as he’d suspected—and yet more than he’d expected.
Lisi was curled against Kimi, her head tucked against his chest, his arm draped gently over her waist. The oversized hoodie swallowed her small frame, fabric stretched softly over his shoulder, the warmth and weight of them together creating a small, private world on that couch. Kimi’s dark hair fell loosely across his forehead, and his cheek rested against the top of her head. Both were breathing steadily, a rhythm that matched, slow and unhurried, as though they had left the outside world entirely behind.
Toto’s chest tightened slightly—not with anger, not with fear, but with the full weight of recognition. This wasn’t just a moment of care or affection. This was trust. Absolute, unguarded trust.
He exhaled slowly, careful not to make a sound.
Susie appeared beside him quietly, her eyes soft and unreadable. She followed his gaze, taking in the same scene.
“They’re… safe,” she whispered, almost to herself.
Toto nodded slightly, letting a rare, private smile tug at the corner of his mouth. “And yet… they’re giving each other more than I can control,” he murmured.
Susie’s hand brushed his arm lightly. “Let them,” she said gently. “They’ve earned it.”
He lingered in the doorway for a moment longer, watching them sleep together like this—small, fragile, perfectly whole in each other’s presence. Then, with a careful exhale, he retreated, leaving them cocooned in warmth and quiet, the pale winter light spilling over their stillness.
For the first time in a long time, Toto allowed himself to believe that some things — effort, care, choice — were stronger than control, stronger than rules, stronger than fear. And that maybe, just maybe, letting them be like this was the best gift he could offer.
The pale winter light had shifted slightly, soft and steady across the living room, nudging them awake. Kimi’s eyes fluttered first, heavy-lidded and sluggish, adjusting to the brightness filtering through the curtains. The weight of Lisi against him was comforting, grounding, and he almost didn’t want to move.
Lisi stirred next, a soft murmur escaping her lips as she burrowed just a little closer into the oversized hoodie that had become a barrier against the cold and the outside world. Her eyes cracked open, catching Kimi’s dark ones immediately.
“Morning,” she whispered, voice husky from sleep.
“Morning,” he replied, voice equally quiet, not wanting to shatter the fragile stillness around them. He brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, careful, almost reverent.
They stayed like that for a few seconds longer, foreheads brushing, breaths mingling. Outside, faint noises of the apartment waking—footsteps, distant clinks, the low hum of the coffee machine—seeped in, but inside the blanket cocoon, it felt like the world had slowed to a heartbeat.
Kimi shifted slightly, trying not to wake her further. “You cold?” he murmured.
“Not really,” she replied, tugging the hoodie closer around her. “You?”
“Never,” he said quietly, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
Lisi let out a soft laugh, tiny and fond, curling even closer into him. “We should probably… get up,” she said softly, though neither of them made a move immediately.
Kimi’s hand found hers, fingers intertwining naturally. “In a minute,” he murmured. “Just… stay like this for a bit longer.”
And for a few more heartbeats, they did. Wrapped up together, letting the pale morning light carry them gently from sleep, neither rushing to leave the warmth of what they’d built together.
A soft, deliberate cough echoed from the hallway—Toto’s unmistakable morning signal.
Kimi’s eyes snapped open fully, heart jumping. In an instant, he was upright, blanket slipping from his shoulders as he scrambled to sit properly, panic sharpening every movement. “Shit,” he whispered under his breath, voice tense. “If he sees—”
Lisi stirred beside him, blinking up at him through sleep-laden lashes. “Kimi…?” she murmured, voice half-asleep, sensing the sudden shift in his energy.
Kimi ran a hand through his messy hair, shoulders tight. “Toto,” he muttered, voice low and urgent. “He’s awake. He’s seen—well, he hasn’t seen yet, but if he comes in—”
Before she could respond, footsteps grew louder, deliberate, measured. The door creaked slightly as it opened, and Toto’s silhouette appeared in the frame, mug in hand, eyes narrowing slightly as he took in the scene.
Kimi’s stomach twisted. He froze, chest tight, trying to appear casual while his brain screamed otherwise.
Lisi, sensing the tension, slipped her arm around him instinctively, pressing close, trying to shield him — or maybe herself — from the inevitable confrontation.
Toto’s gaze lingered longer than necessary, dark eyes assessing, quiet, precise. He said nothing at first, simply studying them. The room held its breath.
Kimi swallowed hard, voice barely above a whisper. “Morning, sir.”
Toto’s expression didn’t change, though the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth suggested he’d already made up his mind about a lot of things. He took a slow sip of his coffee, letting the moment stretch just enough to make Kimi squirm.
Finally, he broke the silence. “You two look… very comfortable,” he said dryly, voice calm but carrying the weight of authority.
Kimi flushed, hands gripping the blanket for cover. “We — we weren’t… I mean, we didn’t—”
Lisi cut in gently, squeezing his side. “It's my fault. I insisted on staying.”
Toto raised an eyebrow, silent for a beat longer, then set his mug down with a measured clink. “I see,” he said, tone neutral but absolute. “Well, breakfast is ready. And Kimi…”
“Yes, sir?” Kimi asked instantly, tense.
“Don’t get used to sleeping in my living room,” Toto said, a faint edge of amusement slipping in, betraying a trace of warmth beneath the morning’s discipline.
Kimi exhaled shakily, relief flooding him in waves. Lisi let out a quiet giggle, leaning into him as he wrapped the blanket back around both of them, careful to look dignified — or as dignified as one could in this situation.
After breakfast, the atmosphere was lighter, the tension of last night softened by food, warm coffee, and the quiet domestic rhythms of the Wolff household. Jack had already spent most of the meal chattering about karting lines and corners, occasionally shooting Kimi hopeful glances. Lisi sat beside him, fingers still intertwined with his under the table, subtle and unspoken, a tether neither wanted to break.
Kimi stood slowly, brushing crumbs from his hoodie, eyes meeting Lisi’s. “I should get going,” he said quietly, voice soft but steady.
She nodded, though her chest tightened slightly. “Yeah… I know,” she murmured, trying to keep her tone casual.
Toto, sitting at the far end of the table, didn’t look up, but his voice carried across the kitchen. “Drive safely,” he said, calm and measured. “And keep your phone charged.”
“Will do, sir,” Kimi replied, with just the right amount of respect. He shot a glance at Jack, who had paused mid-bite, eyes wide. “And don’t worry,” Kimi added with a grin, “I’ll bring you that LEGO F1 set next time. Maybe we can build it together.”
Jack’s face lit up immediately. “Really? You promise?”
“I promise,” Kimi said, crouching slightly so he was at eye level with the boy. “It’ll be epic.”
Lisi watched the exchange quietly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’ll come back soon?” she asked softly, almost a whisper meant only for him.
Kimi took her hand gently, squeezing it once. “Very soon,” he assured her, dark eyes warm. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
She nodded, pressing a brief kiss to the back of his hand. “Good. Don’t get lost this time,” she teased lightly.
He chuckled, shoulders relaxing. “There was traffic,” he said, then bent down to give her a quick, gentle kiss on the forehead.
With a final nod to Toto and Susie, Kimi picked up his gift and stepped toward the door. Lisi lingered a moment longer, watching him move, her heart quietly anchoring to the promise he’d made.
Outside, the winter air was sharp, the sun just beginning to rise over Monaco’s harbor. Kimi took a deep breath, feeling the drive ahead and the roads still covered in frost, but the thought of coming back — to her, to Jack, to them — made every kilometer worth it.
He turned back briefly, hand raised in a small wave. “See you soon,” he called.
Lisi smiled, heart full, and waved back.
And with that, Kimi stepped into the crisp morning.
Christmas was in four days.
NEXT CHAPTER
Suzuka Will Tell the Truth About the 2026 Cars
Australia rewarded organization. China rewarded pace. Suzuka rewards trust. The Esses, Spoon, and 130R will expose which 2026 cars change direction cleanly, which ones feel nervous, and which drivers look like they are negotiating with the steering wheel instead of attacking.
Suzuka could become the first real truth test for the 2026 F1 cars as teams face the S Curves, Spoon, and 130R in the Japanese Grand Prix.
Red Bull Looks Mortal in 2026 and Everyone Can See It
The scary part is not one bad session. It is the pattern. Brake feel, energy management, and reliability have turned early weekends into survival, and Suzuka will not let uncertainty hide.
Red Bull’s 2026 Formula 1 season is already under pressure after early setbacks in Australia and China, while Mercedes has surged ahead.
Suzuka Is Ferrari’s Mirror, And It Might Not Be Kind
Leclerc and Hamilton are basically tied in the standings, which is the problem. Ferrari does not need vibes. Ferrari needs clarity. Suzuka will force it.
Leclerc feels built for the single lap commitment through Sector 1. Hamilton feels built for the long Sunday where tyres and patience decide who still has a race left. Either way, Japan is where “close enough” stops sounding like a compliment.
Hamilton vs Leclerc at Suzuka could shape Ferrari’s early 2026 season as the Japanese Grand Prix tests qualifying pace, tyre management, and