The Grudge •||• PA17

•||•

Finally, Saturday arrived. My nerves were stretched thin. I paced around my room, picking out clothes as if it were a date instead of a family dinner. My mother tried to calm me down. "They have seen you with messy hair and grease on your face," she said, brushing my hair lightly. "You do not need to impress them."

It was not them I wanted to impress. It was Paul.

The ride to his house felt endless. The crisp air made my stomach churn as we pulled into the driveway. Warm lights glowed from the windows. His mother hugged me, his father shook my hand, and I pretended to be perfectly calm.

Paul appeared in the hallway, taller than I remembered, hair a little longer than the last time I saw him. That half-smile tugged at his lips, and just seeing him made my heartbeat quicken.

"Vivi," he said softly. "Glad you could come."

"Would not miss it," I managed, smiling quickly before my cheeks betrayed me with a flush.

...

Dinner was chaos. Laughter, overlapping conversations, plates being passed back and forth. Our families had always been close, so the table was alive with warmth and noise, every voice trying to rise above the others.

But as always, the spotlight drifted toward Kimi.

"Another podium, Kimi?" Mr. Aron said with an approving nod, lifting his glass slightly. "At this rate, you'll be leading the championship before long."

"Maybe even F2 sooner than expected," my father added with pride that felt sharp in my ears. "He's a natural. Always has been."

Kimi only grinned, leaning back in his chair like the attention belonged to him by birthright. "I've just been lucky with the car," he said modestly, though the sparkle in his eyes told a different story.

I chewed slowly, staring at my plate. My fork scraped against porcelain, the sound loud and grating against the flood of voices.

Mrs. Aron, ever kind, tried to soften the one-sided praise. "Viviana's improving too," she said with a polite smile in my direction. But the words felt like a gentle afterthought, tucked in the corner of a conversation already decided.

My cheeks warmed as I forced a smile back. "Thank you," I murmured.

"She's doing more than improving," Paul interjected suddenly, his tone sharper than expected. He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "She qualified P4 last weekend, didn't you, Vivi? That's not something you can ignore."

The conversation faltered just slightly. I looked up, caught off guard.

"Yes," I said softly. "I did."

Paul smiled, warm and steady. "Exactly. And she kept her pace the whole race. Most rookies fade after a few laps, but not her."

His parents nodded politely, but then my father jumped in again, laughing. "Of course, but Kimi is in a different league altogether. His consistency is remarkable."

Kimi chuckled, shaking his head. "It's just practice. You put in enough laps, and it shows."

Everyone laughed. Everyone except me. My chest hollowed out, a quiet ache pressing against my ribs.

And then I felt it. A gaze.

I looked up. Paul was watching me. Not with pity, not with amusement, but with that quiet steadiness he always carried. His eyes said what no one else bothered to: I see you. Don't doubt it.

When the salad bowl came around, Paul passed it to me, his hand brushing mine deliberately, not accidentally. His voice dropped low enough for only me to hear. "Careful. You okay?"