Alaric

’’Stop this attitude of yours, Bastien. Let’s eat in peace,’’ My mother pleaded.

Bastien said nothing after then and dinner continued, but the warmth around the table had disappeared completely.

The entire dining room suddenly felt colder despite the soft golden chandelier lights reflecting beautifully against the marble walls and crystal glasses. Even the servants moved more quietly now, carefully pouring wine and replacing plates while pretending not to notice the tension slowly tightening around the table.

I kept my eyes lowered toward my untouched food while absently tracing my fingers around the stem of my wine glass.

But Bastien was not done.

I knew that look in his eyes.

And I knew tonight was slowly heading somewhere ugly.

Dami clearly sensed it too because he immediately tried steering the conversation elsewhere.

"So," he started casually while reaching for his wine glass, "Ferrari’s engineers are already threatening to kill us before Saudi Arabia even starts."

Catherine laughed immediately.

"That track terrifies me," she admitted dramatically. "The onboard footage looked insane."

"It is insane," Dami replied with a grin. "Especially when your teammate drives like he has a death wish."

Normally, I would have rolled my eyes or insulted him back immediately.

Tonight, I barely reacted.

Unfortunately, Bastien noticed that too.

His gaze shifted toward me slowly before he leaned back slightly against his chair.

"You know," he said calmly, "sometimes I genuinely wonder how you managed to move on so quickly after everything that happened."

My chest tightened immediately.

My mother sighed quietly beneath her breath.

"Bastien," she warned softly.

But he ignored her.

"I am serious," he continued while lazily swirling the wine inside his crystal glass. "Sometimes I look at you sitting there smiling during interviews, and I genuinely wonder if you ever think about that night anymore."

The pressure inside my chest immediately worsened.

"I think about it every day," I answered quietly.

Bastien laughed softly beneath his breath.

"Do you?"

The question hit me hard, and I physically felt it inside my chest.

"Yes," I answered again, more firmly this time as I shifted slightly in my chair.

Another silence settled heavily across the dining table.

Then Bastien slowly placed his wine glass down.

"You know what I remember most?" he asked calmly.

Nobody answered him.

"I remember waking up in the hospital and realizing Father was dead," he continued quietly. "Then realizing my legs barely worked properly anymore while you were sitting beside me crying and apologizing over and over again."

My fingers tightened slightly beneath the table.

"I remember hearing the doctors say your racing career was probably over too," Bastien continued. "But somehow it survived. Voilà. A miracle happened."

His jaw tightened faintly.

"You survived. Your career survived. Your life survived."

My breathing slowly started becoming uneven again.

"Meanwhile, Father came back in a coffin."

"Bastien, enough," my mother said sharply.

"No," he snapped immediately before looking directly at me again. "No, because everybody keeps acting like I am cruel for saying things nobody else here wants to admit."

Catherine lowered her fork quietly.

Dami visibly shifted beside me uncomfortably.

Meanwhile, I could barely feel my hands anymore.

"You got everything back," Bastien continued. "The Formula One contracts. The fame. The money. The comeback story everybody worships so much. Now you are the face of everything, trending immediately after your first race," he said calmly. "While I remain stuck in this wheelchair, probably for life if I do not go through therapy."

That calmness somehow hurt worse than shouting.

"I had dreams too, Alaric."

Something painful twisted violently inside my chest.

"I wanted to race professionally too before that accident," he admitted quietly. "Do you know what it feels like watching your older brother live the exact life you wanted while knowing your father died because of him?"

"Stop it," Catherine whispered.

But Bastien continued anyway.

"You left us here to deal with the aftermath while you disappeared back into racing," he said coldly. "And honestly? Sometimes I think you moved on far too easily."

My heartbeat suddenly started pounding painfully against my ribs.

It was too fast. Way too fast.

The chandelier lights above us blurred slightly, and the room suddenly felt much smaller.

My fingers curled tightly beneath the tablecloth while Bastien’s voice continued echoing loudly inside my skull.

You moved on.

Father died.

You survived.

You survived.

I suddenly remembered Harold’s voice.

"Remember to breathe slowly first, then count your breathing, and do not panic."

I inhaled sharply before exhaling slowly, but it was not working.

The pressure inside my chest kept worsening.

"You know what the worst part is?" Bastien asked quietly.

I looked up slowly.

"The worst part is that you still get to live like nothing happened while the rest of us remained trapped inside that night."

Something inside me cracked violently.

I slammed my hand hard against the marble table.

The sound echoed loudly throughout the dining room.

Everyone froze instantly.

Even Bastien looked shocked.

I stood up so quickly that my chair nearly crashed backward onto the floor behind me.

"No," I snapped.

My voice shook badly.

"No, you do not get to do this to me again."

Bastien stared at me silently.

Tears streamed slowly down my face, humiliating me immediately because this was the first time in years I had shown this side of myself.

"You think I moved on?" I asked, my voice cracking weakly. "You seriously think I moved on?"

Nobody spoke.

My chest hurt so badly now that even breathing felt difficult.

"I replay that night every single day," I admitted shakily. "Every single fucking day."

My throat tightened painfully, but I continued speaking anyway.

"I still remember the sound of the crash," I whispered brokenly. "I still remember Father bleeding beside me."

I heaved a deep breath while tightening my fists harder.

"I still hear him sometimes."

Silence swallowed the room completely.

Tears finally slid down my face despite how desperately I tried stopping them.

"I had no idea it was going to turn out like that," I whispered weakly. "I never expected that I would survive while Father would die and I..."

I paused as another sob escaped me.

Bastien’s expression slowly shifted, and through my blurry vision, I saw something dangerously close to pity on his face.

But I could not stop anymore.

"I KNOW I caused the accident!" I shouted suddenly, tears blurring my vision completely now. "Do you seriously think there is a single day where I do not hate myself for it?"

My breathing turned shaky again.

"I lost him too!" I yelled. "He was my father too!"

Catherine looked like she might cry herself now.

Meanwhile, my entire body trembled uncontrollably.

"You think racing fixed me?" I laughed bitterly through tears. "You think interviews and trophies suddenly made everything disappear?"

I wiped angrily at my face.

"I cannot even sleep properly half the time," I admitted weakly. "I panic every single time people I love get inside cars with me."

My chest tightened painfully.

"And you keep acting like surviving was some kind of reward."

The silence afterward felt unbearable.

"I said I was sorry," I whispered again. "I have spent years apologizing for surviving when he did not."

My voice broke completely.

"But I do not deserve to be punished forever by my own brother because of it."

I sniffled shakily.

For a moment after I finished speaking, nobody said anything.

Not even Bastien.

I immediately looked away because I suddenly hated that Dami had witnessed all of this.

Humiliation burned violently through me.

Without another word, I shoved my chair backward and walked out before anybody could stop me.

I barely remembered reaching the terrace outside.

Cold Monaco air hit my face immediately the moment the glass doors slammed shut behind me, but it did almost nothing to calm the violent pounding inside my chest.

My breathing still felt uneven, and my hands were trembling badly.

I gripped the stone railing tightly while staring down toward the dark Mediterranean crashing violently against the cliffs below.

A few seconds later, the doors behind me opened softly.

"Alaric."

My mother’s voice.

I squeezed my eyes shut briefly.

Then I felt her arms wrap gently around me from behind.

And suddenly, I felt comfort again.