“Jax is back in Brisbane,” Mia said. “He’s taking a break from everything. No media. No events. Just… home.”
Aria nodded even though Mia couldn’t see her. “Understandable. The championship pressure was insane. He deserves time to breathe.”
Another pause. Then Mia’s voice dropped lower. “It’s not about the championship, Aria. It’s his Nan. She’s sick. Really sick. Weeks left. Maybe less. He’s gone back to be with her. To look after her. To sit with her every day she has left.”
The words landed like a punch. Aria’s free hand flew to her mouth.
She thought back to the broadcast after the race—the camera panning to the grandstand, catching Jax on his knees in front of the small, frail woman in a wheelchair. She’d looked so tiny against the roaring crowd, silver hair catching the floodlights, hands clasped tight. Aria had noticed how fragile she seemed, how the travel must have drained her, but she hadn’t connected it. Hadn’t understood.
“How long has he known?” she whispered.
“Since Silverstone.”
The timeline clicked into place like a lock turning. Silverstone. The call where he’d told her the arrangement had run its course. Where he’d gently, politely, given her permission to go back to Min-Jae.
“He didn’t want you to stick around out of sympathy,” Mia said quietly. “He thought if you knew how bad it was, you’d feel obligated. He didn’t want that for you. He wanted you to be free to go back to what he thought you really wanted.”
Aria’s eyes burned. “Of course it wouldn’t have been sympathy,” she said, voice breaking. “I love him. I just want to be there for him. I can’t believe he didn’t tell me.”
Mia’s sigh was soft, understanding. “He’s protecting everyone he loves the only way he knows how—by carrying it alone. But he’s hurting, Aria. More than he’ll ever admit. He needs people who care about him. Really care.”
Aria pressed her palm to her chest, feeling her heart slam. “What do I do?”
“You need to make a choice,” Mia said gently. “If you’re going to go to him, go because you want to be there for him—through the grief, through the hard days, through whatever comes next. Not just because you want him back. He’s not in a place to play games or figure out feelings right now. He needs steady. He needs real.”
Aria nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I know.”
There was a long beat of quiet between them.
“I’m sorry again,” Aria whispered. “For lying. For hurting you and Dana.”
Mia’s voice softened further. “I’m not angry. I’m sad we didn’t know sooner. But I’m glad you’re telling me now.”
A small, broken laugh escaped Aria. “Thank you. For listening.”
“Always,” Mia said. “Just… think carefully about how you show up for him. He’s going to need you to be strong too.”
The call ended.
Aria sat in the quiet green room, phone still pressed to her ear, the weight of everything settling over her like a blanket.
Jax was in Brisbane.
His nan was dying.
He’d carried it alone since Silverstone.
And he’d let her go because he thought that was what she wanted.
She closed her eyes. Saw him on his knees in front of his nan at Yas Marina—small, fierce, broken open with pride and grief. Saw the way he’d looked at her in those stolen moments—hungry,tender, terrified—like she was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.
She opened her eyes.
She had a choice to make.
And this time, she wasn’t going to wait.
She opened her messages. Started typing to Robert.
