Luca spent his Sunday alone after he, Sara, and Mallow had enjoyed themselves with a little party in the living room. They left that very same night, and Luca woke up to solitude again.
Being a Sunday, Amir wouldn't be able to meet up for any appointment to continue the routine they had been following. There was no problem, though, considering they were just about finalizing everything, and there wasn't much left to do. Luca was said to be easily 95% recovered—though his system said 90—and now, all that remained were some simple breathing and movement exercises ahead of the bandage removal.
Luca was informed that the esteemed Federation medical team would personally assess his condition to confirm his full recovery—even after Trampos' medical team had already given their approval. It was their responsibility to ensure that all drivers were equally fit to return to the track and that no team was pushing its drivers beyond safe limits under the pressure to compete.
"I give up!" Luca hissed, grabbing the remote before slumping into one of the cushions.
On non-racing Sundays, the motorsport channel often broadcasted past races from random seasons of Formula 1 or 2. Even though he had told himself to take a break from racing for the day, he hadn't been able to resist the sound of acceleration and the satisfying swirl of smoke. He had to watch.
When he switched to the channel, the race was already five laps in—the Australian Grand Prix from earlier in the year. Despite knowing the outcome, Luca still found it intriguing and decided to keep watching.
Unfortunately, since it wasn't a live broadcast, the frequent ad breaks quickly became unbearable. When one dragged on too long, Luca gave up on waiting. He hurried over to his new simulator—one he had set up himself—and started racing within a minute.
Before he knew it, he had completed three races. Evening had crept in, the Australian Grand Prix broadcast had long ended, and the motorsport channel had moved on to analytics and, yet again, endless ads.
Luca let out a long breath as he finally pulled off his headset and stepped out of the simulator. His muscles ached slightly from how tense he had been, completely immersed in the races. As he stretched his arms, he noticed a faint sound—the soft pitter-patter against the windows.
The lights in his house seemed much brighter now, casting a warm glow over the white gym he was in. That only meant one thing—outside was getting darker.
Curious, Luca walked over to the curtains and pulled them open. Evening had settled in, and the sky was a dull shade of gray. A fine mist of rain fell steadily, heavier than a drizzle but not quite a full downpour. The fixed lights around his premises glowed softly, reflecting on the shimmering lawn.
Luca rested a hand on the window frame, watching the rain for a moment. His mind, which had been racing just minutes ago, gradually eased into the quiet rhythm of the weather.
"Shit!" Luca hissed, bolting out of the gym and rushing into the living room.
His phone lay on the sofa, right where he'd left it. Snatching it up, he quickly scanned the screen. To his relief, the notification he had been dreading hadn't arrived yet. He exhaled, shoulders relaxing.
But just as he let out that breath, the phone suddenly vibrated in his hand, the ringtone cutting through the silence. The timing was almost eerie—like fate itself was playing with him.
Luca glanced at the screen. Issabella.
The very call he thought he had missed countless times.
Without hesitation, he answered smoothly.
Isabella had just touched down in Berlin and wasted no time calling Luca to update him on her progress.
Luca listened with a few nods, then instructed her to take a private cab to Dahlem using the address he had already sent her.
"Okay," Isabella replied, her voice clear over the line. The call lingered for a moment before Luca gently ended it.
With a sigh, he placed his hands on his hips and glanced around his spacious living room. Everything was in order—as it always was. Yet, for some reason, he couldn't shake the feeling that something would be out of place. Maybe something like a forgotten slice of pizza wedged in the cushions, just waiting for Isabella to sit on it.
Shaking off the thought, Luca did a mental calculation. From Berlin Brandenburg Airport to Dahlem, the drive took around 25 minutes. With the evening traffic and rain, it might stretch to thirty or more.
That gave him just enough time to finish the early dinner he had started before getting caught up watching the Australian Grand Prix.
Luca moved to the kitchen.
By 7:05 PM, Luca's phone vibrated softly on the counter. He dried his hands, picked it up, and answered.
"I think I'm in Dalhem now. The driver says so," Isabella announced.
Luca hummed in acknowledgment before ending the call. She was close. He quickly made his way upstairs, grabbing a few green notes from his nightstand before heading back down to retrieve an umbrella. The dinner was done, and he had to admit... he'd really outdone himself.
Stepping out of the grand front door, Luca pulled it shut behind him, the click of the lock crisp in the quiet drizzle. The rain had thickened, cool droplets tapping against the pavement and grass, glistening under the glow of the lights bordering his compound.
He opened the umbrella with a swift flick, shielding himself as he strode down the pathway and through the lawn. A gust of wind carried the soft rustle of leaves as Luca approached the gate.
He pushed the gate open just enough before stepping out, his free hand slipping into his pocket.
Luca stood at the entrance, waiting. The rain had settled into a steady, misty drizzle, coating the pavement in a thin sheen that shimmered under the streetlights.
Maybe the driver was having trouble navigating through the opulent neighborhood at night because Dahlem was known for its quiet streets and discreet residences, making it easy to miss an address.
His brows lifted slightly when a pair of headlights pierced through the dimness, approaching from the right. The low hum of an engine filled the silence, its presence distinct in the stillness.
Since he'd been standing there, not a single car had passed. So, Luca had no doubt it had to be Isabella's cab.