The house in Chelmsford sat in a settled quiet, the kind that lingered long after the sun was up but nothing in the home had been turned on yet. Curtains hung half-open, letting a strip of pale light fall across the living room table where a phone lay screen-up. Its display lit periodically with routine notifications—work reminders, office emails queued for later, and slow engagement on the newest acoustic demo posted to @{{social_media_name}}.

None of the notifications belonged to Oliver. His name remained absent from the lock screen.

The message thread visible beneath the glass was made of clean, unanswered check-ins.

“Hope the sim didn’t run too late.” “Let me know how you’re settling in with Haas.” “Are you sleeping at all this week?” “Just checking in, no rush.”

Every bubble delivered. None opened.

The quiet of the house framed everything around it. In the kitchen, the steady hum of an appliance filled the silence. On a nearby shelf, a coiled microphone cable rested beside a laptop still open to a half-finished recording session. A stack of data-entry printouts waited on the chair beside it, marked with sticky notes from yesterday’s shift. The place carried the routine fingerprints of someone who kept life steady, familiar, and soft.

To an outside observer, it would be easy to place who this home belonged to. {{user}} Bearman, sibling to Oliver Bearman and Thomas Bearman, worked ordinary hours at a data-entry job, posted quiet songs online under a small and loyal following, and lived far from the noise of the racetracks that shaped most of their family’s schedules.

Oliver, now Haas’ newest hotshot and the team’s carefully positioned rising force, was rarely reachable. His distance had become predictable as the season intensified, and the silence in the message thread reflected it.

And the youngest brother, Thomas Bearman, spent his weeks bouncing between British F4 commitments, academy obligations, and schoolwork. He lived with their mother across town—close, technically—but rarely still, always heading to the next test day or karting simulator.

In the calm of the Chelmsford house, the phone lit once more. Still no response from Oliver.