He laughed—real this time—and took a long pull. The city lights kept shimmering on below.
And maybe—just maybe—he was starting to believe Dana was right.
He still wasn’t ready to say it to Aria.
But the words were there now, sitting heavy and undeniable in his chest.
And they weren’t going anywhere.
???
Aria flew in for Suzuka on Thursday night, straight to his hotel room. She wrapped her arms around him from behind while he was still reviewing data, chin on his shoulder.
“Missed you,” she whispered.
He turned, pulled her close, kissed her like the debrief could wait. “Missed you more.”
The weekend brought wet-dry conditions. Qualifying P2. Aria watched from the garage in an Ashworth hoodie, lyric notebook open beside her, cheering every sector. He drove with cold focus—perfect tire calls, flawless defense through the Esses. P2 again.
Shanghai followed. He qualified P3, fought hard through the race, finished P4 after a late safety car bunched the field. Not a podium, but consistent points. The team was climbing the constructors’ table. Sponsors were happy. Headlines called him “THE COMEBACK STAR OF THE YEAR.”
But every night, when the hotel room door closed and it was just them, the questions he didn’t ask sat heavy between them.
She’d curl into his side after sex, head on his chest, fingers tracing idle patterns over his ribs. He’d hold her a little too tightly, like if he let go she might vanish. They’d talk about everything except the thing that mattered: what this was. What happened when the season ended, when the optics weren’t needed anymore, when the cameras stopped watching.
He wanted to ask. He wanted to say:This isn’t just convenience for me. Not anymore.But the words stuck. What if she laughed it off? What if she said she still loved Min-Jae, that Jax was just the rebound who’d helped her move on? What if she walkedaway and left him carrying the season—and the heartbreak—alone?
So he didn’t ask.
He just held her tighter, kissed her slower, and hoped she felt it in the way he touched her.
???
Aria
The season was becoming its own kind of rhythm—flights that blurred together, and hotel rooms that started to feel familiar.Jax’s arms were the only place that felt like home after sixteen hours in the air.
She kept recording—late nights in Seoul between trips, voice memos sent at odd hours, new verses about clarity and longing and things she wasn’t ready to name. She played him snippets over FaceTime; he listened with his head tilted, eyes soft.
Min-Jae’s messages had stopped. Three unanswered texts, then silence. She didn’t check anymore. She didn’t really care. When she thought about him now, there was nothing—no pull, no ache, just the faint echo of a version of herself she no longer recognized.
She hadn’t told anyone the full truth. Until one late-night call in Shanghai, the week after Suzuka.
She was in her hotel room—Jax already having flown out that afternoon for a sponsors meeting. Lena had knocked earlier with room service (late-night congee and green tea), then stayed when Aria asked her to. They sat on the bed, Lena cross-legged in sweats, Aria in an oversized hoodie, both barefoot.
“I think I’m finally done with him,” Aria said quietly.
Lena didn’t flinch. “Min-Jae?”
“Yeah.” Aria pulled her knees to her chest. “He messaged a few times after the awards ceremony, asking to talk. I didn’t answer. And… I don’t want to. I thought seeing him would spark something, but it didn’t. It just felt over.”
Lena reached over and squeezed her ankle. “Good. That’s progress.”
Aria hesitated, then let the rest spill out. “That’s why I started things with Jax in the first place. It wasn’t real. Not at the beginning. I thought making Min-Jae jealous would give me some power back. And Jax… he got the stable, committed boyfriend image the sponsors wanted after last season. We were both getting something out of it. A fake relationship for mutual benefit. It was stupid.”
Lena went very still. Her expression shifted from supportive to openly annoyed in a heartbeat.
“Wait — fake?” Lena’s voice sharpened, eyes widening. “You mean the whole thing — the paddock appearances, the couple photos, the way the media’s been eating it up — started as a stunt? Aria, you’re a K-pop star. If your fans ever find out this was all arranged just to make your ex jealous.... they’re going to be gutted. They love the idea of you being happy and in a real relationship. The betrayal would be massive. This kind of thing blows up careers.”
