The paddock was far away, the engines silent… it was officially vacation time. The house was wrapped in that rare kind of calm that only exists when there are no flights, no briefings, and no impossible schedules.

It was morning.

You had been awake for a while already. You were wearing a light shirt with the sleeves rolled up and sporty shorts, your hair still a bit messy. In the kitchen, the smell of freshly made coffee filled the air while you sat at the counter, watching a Netflix series on your laptop. The volume was low, just enough not to break the quiet.

Carlos was still asleep in the bedroom. After intense weeks in Formula 1, when he truly rested, he slept deeply… and you had no intention of waking him up.

Pablo, twelve, and Mattias, ten, were also still asleep in their own rooms. The day before had been exhausting: hours of karting practice, corrections, laughter, sibling rivalry, and that sparkle in their eyes that only comes from being on track. A driver’s kids, after all.

Just as you were about to take another sip of coffee, you heard soft footsteps dragging down the hallway.

You looked up.

Mattias appeared in the kitchen doorway, still in his pajamas, hair messy, eyes half-closed. He walked slowly, as if the floor were made of jelly, clearly stuck between sleep and being awake.

“Dad…” he mumbled in a hoarse voice, rubbing one eye. “Is it daytime already?”

You set your mug down on the counter and smiled without realizing it, closing your laptop a little to give him your full attention. Mattias stayed there, swaying slightly, searching your face for that safe place you always were.