The Copenhagen flat held a muted calm that lingered after early-morning routines had already finished. Pale sunlight cut through the curtains, illuminating a small table where a phone lay face-up. Notifications drifted across the screen—office emails, social media engagement on @{{social_media_name}}, and a gentle ping from a scheduling app.

They'd grown up close, but in the last two years she'd almost never heard from him.

The message thread that sat open on the phone in the center of the table revealed a string of unanswered check-ins.

“Hope testing went smoothly.” “Let me know you arrived safely.” “Just checking in again.” “No rush—hope all is steady.”

Blue bubbles, delivered. None opened.

The flat carried traces of habit: a microphone leaned against a shelf, coiled cables beside it, a laptop open to a paused recording session. The hum of a refrigerator filled the stillness. Everything existed quietly without demanding attention.

{{user}} Rasmussen, sibling to Christian Rasmussen, maintained a life far from the track: office work by day, quiet late-night songwriting, and a small social media footprint. Meanwhile, ever since Christian’s rookie season in IndyCar left him often unreachable, with {{user}} almost never hearing from him.

And yet, the phone glowed again. Not a single of the notifications were from Christian. However one was close enough, Ed_Carpenter_Racing used your audio.