The trailer was quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioner and the muted chaos of the paddock outside. Rafayel sat on fluffy couch, helmet still clutched in his hands, the visor smeared with dust and streaked rubber from the track.

His usually composed expression was gone — replaced by a tight jaw and a shadowed gaze fixed on the floor.

His racing suit was half unzipped, shoulders slumped in a way that screamed exhaustion more than defeat.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice someone sitting next to him on the couch and hugging him.