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When Joy knocks at the door of her room she’s so deep into studying her notes that it startles her almost out of her chair. ‘Come in!’ she says, going back to her notepad. Joy takes one look at her sitting there, hand to her forehead, mouthing the words silently to herself, face screwed up in concentration, and giggles loud enough to distract Seulgi for a minute.

‘What?’ Seulgi asks. ‘What’s so funny?’

‘When you said yes the other day, I genuinely thought you were only saying it to get me to go away. But now look at you.’

‘I want to do well. I think it’s just something inside me that wants to be the best at everything I do, no matter how small it is.’

‘Well. Sure. How are you feeling?’

‘Honestly?’

Joy nods.

‘Absolutely ing terrified. Like, I’ve never been this scared for a race before, and I’m not even driving. I’m just sitting there in the passenger seat reading stuff out to you like an idiot.’

‘You’re not an idiot. Rallying would be impossible without a co-driver.’

‘I know,’ Seulgi says. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. I just—’

‘Don’t worry, I know what you meant.’ Joy offers her a warming smile.

‘How long have we got?’

‘Like, ten minutes before registration ends. So we should probably get going if we want to get there in time.’

‘I don’t know if I’m ready for this.’

‘You’ll be fine. What was all that talk last season about having your confidence with you at all times? About finally finding it within yourself?’

‘Yeah, but that was Formula 1. This is…well, not that.’

‘You’ll do great,’ Joy assures her again. ‘If there’s anyone in the world who can jump into rallying after years away and ace it, it’s probably you. Or Irene. And the recon runs went great yesterday. We seem to have really gelled as a team. Honestly, we’re in with a great shot, I think. If anything, it’s me you’ve got to worry about. I mean, I’m the one with my foot on the pedal.’

Seulgi sits there for a minute just thinking about it all. Has the last year culminated in this, nervous and unsure of herself in a dimly lit bed-and-breakfast in the middle of a forest miles from civilisation? Thinking to herself: What would Irene say? She’d give me a big hug and tell me I could do it. Wendy, too. Hell, maybe even Yeri would give me a pat on the back.

So after another minute of contemplation she stands and folds away her notepad and nods and says, ‘I can do this. We can do this. Yeah. Let’s go.’

To no surprise at all it’s raining outside, a slight heavier than it was yesterday and still as sullen. What does come as a surprise is that as she steps into the passenger’s seat and lets Joy do the talking, Seulgi’s stomach is mostly still. No awful sinking weight in her gut, no last-minute butterflies. Just a raw and beautiful adrenaline and the rapid pumping of her pulse in her ears as she adjusts her helmet one final time. Joy lines them up in front of the starting gate. There are fans littered all along the sides of the wet dirt path in front of them, rain running down the coats and the umbrellas and into the grass runoffs and seeping through the trees into the dark that lies ahead.

Joy leans out of the window and says something to one of the marshals and closes it again. Seulgi has never seen her look so confident before. It’s as if this rally version of Joy is an entirely different person from her Formula 1 self. ‘Are you ready?’ she says, eyes never leaving the dirt road.

‘Yeah,’ says Seulgi. She flips open the first page of her notepad. A handful of red and green scribbles in shorthand, an entirely different language to anyone who doesn’t know racing as intimately as they do. It reads:

S 130 4L > 80 5L/Cbmp > 4Rl > Op 6R/C > 3L/!dc

‘Okay,’ she mumbles. ‘Start one-thirty, four left, into eighty, five left over crest, small bump, into four right long, opens into six right over crest, into three left, caution, don't cut.’

Joy pushes down on the accelerator and the wheels spin and the engine hums into a rugged sort of existence and her heart is racing. She holds her breath. They’re the last car in their category to start for the day.

‘Here goes,’ Joy mutters. The marshal waves his flag and Joy’s foot is hard to the floor again in a spray of mud and stones and Seulgi has to grip the doorhandle to stop herself from sliding about in her flimsy plastic weight-saving seat.

‘I don’t like this,’ she mumbles.

‘What?’

‘Being a passenger. I don’t like it. You get no control over the car.’

‘Focus,’ Joy says, eyes hawkish and laser-like on the road. They pass under the canopy of the trees and the rain lightens a slight and it’s much darker and more unnerving, like driving into a wall of the night itself. All Seulgi hears is the whine of the supercharger spooling up and the engine roaring and the way the rear tires squeal with every movement and the entire car rocking from side to side as if it has no weight to it at all. So very different from Formula 1. There’s nothing comfortable or relaxing or smooth about it. Even Seulgi’s trademark aggressiveness is nothing alike. Joy throws the wheel violently from left to right, steering and countersteering over every little ridge and along the dirt road and mulching the mud behind the tires and wrestling with the car again. She moves with a speed like Seulgi has never seen before. It’s one foot on the accelerator and then the clutch and the sequential gearbox faster than she can blink and feathering the brake and the gas in tandem and flicking it around the tight corners with a pull of the handbrake and getting on the gas again like a woman possessed.

‘Seulgi,’ she says. Her gaze is so alight with concentration it’s almost startling. Seulgi glances down at her notes and wets a thumb and turns the page. It takes a great deal of effort to hold it all in place. Her mind runs a thousand miles a minute, a thousand thoughts. Standing at the precipice of some absurd and impossible endeavor. The car rocks and shudders and the back tires shake and Joy’s hands are wild on the steeringwheel and it’s all up to Seulgi now and she knows it.

‘Left six,’ Seulgi says. ‘Eighty, left five into left four. Then sixty, right four into crest, tightens right three. Fifty, right one slippy.’

She watches as Joy follows her commands to a tee. First it’s the sweeping left-hander through the cover of the trees and then a second slightly less smooth left turn, the backend of the car dancing and Joy fighting desperately to keep control and the supercharger whining as the sixty yards are swallowed up and the car leaps over the little crest in the road and the suspension creaks and Seulgi jolts up and down and tries in vain to catch her breath. ‘Alright,’ she mumbles. Joy is already pulling hard on the handbrake for the right-hand hairpin. ‘One hundred left six, eighty left five. Forty right three into forty left two into crest, tightens right one.’

Joy’s concentration never falters. It’s a side of her Seulgi has never quite seen before, with the separation the solo activity of Formula 1 provides and the carefree attitude Joy gives her whenever they’re in the garage or at the bar or in a café somewhere. It’s a stark and immediate reminder that every driver on the grid is supremely talented, lest she forget. The car sails through the left-handers in a spray of mud and stones and gravel and the windscreen wipers work overtime to clear everything from their view and slowing for the right-hand turn the car dips in the road and the backend saws about and Seulgi has to reposition herself to stop from being thrown against the dashboard.

‘Seulgi. C’mon.’

‘Sorry. One hundred left four, then right four into left three, tightens left two, right four into crest over right four, caution.’

To anyone else the commands would be alien and incomprehensible but Joy understands them perfectly with no more than a nod of acknowledgement. The car jolts and lurches about like a demon. The speed isn’t anywhere near as fast or as instantaneous as Formula 1 but it doesn’t need to be and Seulgi’s breath catches all the same. A quick glance at Joy’s feet in the footwell says everything, rapid and disturbingly coordinated, from gas to clutch and brake and back again. They ride up over the small crest and Seulgi jerks against her harness and is almost sick and has to take a second to regain her bearings and check her notes again. It all moves so fast she barely has time to react.

‘Right three into right four long, tightens over crest, into left six long, tightens into left four, caution big jump.’

‘How big?’

‘I just wrote big,’ Seulgi says. She has no time to say anything else before the car rocks about and she almost drops the notepad between her legs. Joy slides the car masterfully around the long right-hand swing turn and the rain seems to evaporate against the windscreen and the wipers are working harder than ever and Seulgi’s heart is going like it’s never gone before and it almost hurts to speak. ‘Right five,’ she mutters, but they’re already halfway over the jump and all four wheels leap off the ground and the entire car is airborne for only a second but it feels like years. Then it slams down with an almighty and violent clunk and the suspension loosens and Joy has to throw the wheel first left and then right and back again to work heat into the tires as Seulgi mumbles, ‘Right four into left five long, eighty left six, into unseen left one hairpin.’

The little digital clock pinned to the dashboard reads almost three minutes. The only mistake she sees Joy make is slowing a slight too late for the tight hairpin left and having to slam on the handbrake and kick the tailend out hard enough to knock over one of the metal fencepoles ringed along the side of the course. Here and there they catch sight of a handful of fans dotted around the woods like golems but there’s no time to react or even think about them at all. Driving through the dark and the rain like legatees of that same darkness consigned to some wickeder automotive fate there in the woods.

They pass through a particularly nasty puddle and the mud explodes over the front of the car and the wipers barely do anything and still Joy’s foot is hard pressed to the accelerator and Seulgi’s there flicking rapidly through her pacenotes like a flight instructor and murmuring, ‘Right six into left four short, opens fifty into left four, tightens three right over crest, don't cut.’

‘Three right?’

‘Yeah.’

Joy nods to herself the affirmative. Sliding and slipping through the mud the car seems sentient itself. Two minutes along the track and slowing for another right-hand downhill hairpin Seulgi holds the doorhandle for dear life and glimpses Joy only for a moment throwing the wheel about and working the pedals and the handbrakes and knows in that moment for a certainty that they’re going to win. That there is no other alternative.

‘C’mon Seulgi,’ says Joy. Her eyes never waver. ‘Last leg.’

Seulgi flips to the last page of her pad. The road ahead of them is narrow and there are trees everywhere and even the slightest incorrect flick of the wheel leaves both of them either paralysed or dead.

‘One hundred left six, into left four, into five right long, tightens right three uphill.’

She realises it herself a second later. Even with four-wheel drive the backend skates about in the mud and the rainwater and the wipers are going haywire. The trees come so fast. Like trees materialized out of the darkness seemingly at will. Seulgi holds her breath again. Her hands are shaking in her lap. Joy slows for the left-right complex and clips the side of a low rock wall with the back left of the car. It’s a momentary upset that has her rotating the wheel to manage the snap oversteer and something falls off the rear with a clunk and Seulgi has to balance herself and breathe out slowly to say, ‘Uphill right three into left three, don’t cut, into four right long, into left four uphill, sixty, into finish.’

It’s here in the closing stages, the tight and fast uphill section, so close to the edges of the forest banks, that the adrenaline hits her the hardest. Knowing that if Joy misses the handbrake it’s a sixty-metre slide into the abyss. Perhaps the rollcage will save them. Perhaps not. Perhaps the car will burst into flames and they’ll be incinerated beyond recognition at the bottom of the canyon. It isn’t something she has to dwell on for long. The car slides into the final left-hand curve and up through the dark of the trees and the finish line explodes just up ahead in a burst of rare brightness that signals they’re home free. The marshals are already waving. So too are the rest of the crowd, cameras and phones out even in the rain, eager for the best possible shot.

Joy pulls up slowly and the marshal signs for her to continue to the gravel zone marked out just along the way and she goes on. She takes a look at Seulgi briefly and laughs and says, ‘Are you okay?’

‘I will be,’ Seulgi replies, unaware she’s grinning madly.

‘How was that?’

‘Fun. Very, very fun.’

‘Told you it would be.’

‘Thank you for not, y’know…killing us.’

‘You should thank yourself. Those were some good notes. I told you you’d be a natural at this. That it’d all come back to you like you’d been doing it for years. Cars are just your thing, Seulgi.’

‘Yeah. Maybe you’re right.’

‘When we do find out our times?’

‘Tonight,’ Joy says, pulling the car up and cutting the engine.

‘Why tonight?’

‘They’re having a big dinner for all the drivers at the assembly hall just down the road from the lodges. The one we drove past on the way here. That’s when they’ll give out all the Open category prizes and stuff.’

‘And the Pros?’

‘They’re still racing tomorrow and Sunday morning.’

Seulgi nods. For a while they just sit there savouring the quiet rainbeat on the windows. The tranquility of it, post-madness. Then Seulgi breaks into a fit of laughter and one look at her has Joy laughing too.

‘,’ Seulgi says, ‘that was fun.’

‘I know, right?’

‘I need to do that more often.’

‘You and me both. I've been basically entering myself into as many events as possible over the winter break. It's like this crazy adrenaline rush that F1 had sort of numbed in me, you know? I did a charity bike race last week and man, you wouldn't believe how much fun it is. And I've been in talks with a couple sponsors about entering the Asian leg of the GT3 endurance championship in a couple weeks, but I don't have a team or anything. They say you need four drivers, because it's an all-day thing. Crazy. Anyway. Thanks for saying yes.’

‘Any time,’ Seulgi says with a smile. ‘Thanks for trusting that I’d be able to do this.’

‘We make a pretty good team.’

‘Yeah. Yeah, we do.’

Seulgi’s dressed up and ready to go by half past seven. It’s nothing special – a plain black buttondown polo and a pair of black jeans and her hair tied back and a fancy watch – but it’ll do. She goes down and finds Joy outside on the gravel lot near the start line, pacing back and forth and bending down and peering at parts of her Red Bull Citroen and squinting in the dark. A pale and squat moon hangs and the stars myriad in their constellations burn in the evening dusklight and the rain stilled hours ago but they can still smell it in the air, the faint taste of wet dust and grass and motor oil. Seulgi stands with her arms folded about ten feet from the car and waits. It’s a while before Joy notices her. She’s already changed into a clean set of clothes and she looks good even in the dim light and Seulgi asks, ‘How’s she looking?’

‘Well.’ Joy only motions to the car. It looks like some sort of fossil excavated from a swamp. The front headlamps are cocooned in dried mud and there’s mud and small stones in the hood vents and mud streaked along the sides and the enormous Red Bull logos are barely visible at all. Small leaves and pieces of bark cling to the underside of the chassis like debris. She motions for Seulgi to come around the back of the car. A chunk of the bottom of the bodykit near the exhaust is missing completely.

‘Is that from where you clipped that rock near the end?’ Seulgi says.

‘Must’ve been. I felt that one.’

‘Yeah, me too. Is she good enough to drive?’

‘Back down there? Probably not. But to our little formal dinner? Sure. It’s only down the road. What do you say, Miss Kang? Be my dinner date for the night?’

At that Seulgi only giggles and says yes.

Ten minutes later they pull up outside the assembly hall beside the other cars. Half of them are pristine Kias and Fords and Hyundais and the rest are a comical mismatch of ruined Citroens and broken Peugeots and muddy Lancias in worse conditions than Joy’s own. Some bearing brand logos and some having turned up with nothing but their paintwork. The lights in the assembly hall are on already. ‘Well,’ Seulgi says. ‘Are we late?’

‘No. Not quite. But I guess everyone got here early.’ Seulgi’s hand is already on the door when Joy says, ‘Wait.’

‘What?’

‘I’ve got something I wanna say to you first. Something I’ve been kinda meaning to say for a while, actually. I dunno why, I’ve just wanted to.’

Seulgi looks at her – at the severity in her eyes – and can only nod.

‘I just wanted to tell you that I don’t feel any sort of resentment against you or anything,’ Joy continues.

‘What? Why would you—’

‘For you beating me last year. And the year before. And because, unlike in most of the other teams, we’ve got a clear first driver-second driver dynamic. It’s simple. You’re a better driver than me – hell, better than anyone in my eyes – and that means you’re the team’s number-one driver. My job is to help you win the championship. And I’m saying this because with everything that’s gone on with Yeri recently, with her switching teams and telling me it was because she wanted to carve something out for herself, wanted to finally get to the top, I had this awful idea that maybe you thought I was gonna do the same thing. Or that maybe in some way I’d like you a little bit less for coming in and stealing my limelight, so to speak. Because you’re the team’s golden girl.’

‘I didn’t think that,’ Seulgi says, and for a moment she isn’t sure if it’s the truth or not.

‘Good. But maybe you would in the future, and I’d hate myself a bit more then, because that’s never gonna happen. I just know it isn’t. And yeah, Yeri doesn’t feel the same, but everyone’s different. What I’m gonna say next is probably gonna sound like I’m lying, or I’m trying to convince myself of something, but I promise you I’m not. It’s the truth. I don’t mind being the number-two driver. The backup, the reserve, whatever you wanna call it. I still get to win here and there. I still get the glory on the day. And I still get the thanks of the team and you and everyone else. I still get to celebrate. And at the end of the day – when I sit down and think about it properly – I’m a ing Formula 1 driver. There are seven billion people on planet Earth and only twenty of them get to do this job. Twenty. And I’m one of them. There have been more people in space than people that have driven in Formula 1. I genuinely don’t think there are many people in history that can say they’re more privileged than that, so I don’t think I’m in any position to complain.

‘Not that Yeri’s wrong for wanting more – not at all – it’s just that not everybody wants or needs that. I don’t either. I’m not one of those people. I’m totally fine with what I have right now. That’s where I think I differ from you and Yeri – I don’t need to win to be happy. Hell, I’d say the same thing about Irene, but after this past year I’m not so sure. I don’t know if she needs to win now that she’s got you, but hey, that’s not my place to say. All I know is I’m not gonna resent you or hate you or even like you any less for anything that happens. I don’t mind. You talked to me briefly a while back about spending these past two years finding your happiness, and you told me the way you did that was by searching for that confidence you knew you had within you, to stop doubting yourself and be the best you could be. Well, I found my happiness a long time ago. I’ve been fine ever since. I’ve got F1 and I’ve got this and I’ve got other stuff and I’m totally okay with where I am, and like I said, maybe it comes across as me trying to convince myself, but it’s not. This is who I am, for better or worse. So, yeah. I just wanted to tell you that.’

Seulgi is quiet a minute. Then she says, ‘Did you bring me all the way out here to Gapyeong to tell me that?’

‘Kinda. And also because I really did wanna do this rally and I really did need a co-driver and I really couldn’t think of anyone better. But I thought there would be no better place to get this off my chest and tell you that I’m fine with it. And I want you to know that. I want everyone in the team to know that. I think a lot of people are still too delicate about it.’

‘What do you mean?’

Joy shifts in her seat. Another car pulls up just down from them and the pale headlights shine against her face for a second and vanish again. ‘Back after Mexico,’ she says, ‘after the race happened, I was downstairs in the bar with Wendy for a bit. It was just before everyone from Samsung decided to drink themselves under the table.’

‘Yeah. I know what you mean. I heard them from my room.’

‘Yeah. Anyway, we were talking, and we got talking about the race and stuff, and she mentioned my “strategy.” Except she kinda didn’t. She basically tried to console me on missing out on a podium. Said I’d have had a better race with a different strategy, and I shouldn’t be too hard on myself – not that I was hard on myself to begin with, since the season was only between you and Irene at that point anyway. The point is, there was no alternative strategy to begin with. We were both on the same strategy – start on the soft tires, then another set of softs, then the mediums to finish. A clean and straightforward two-stopper. The reason mine was changed was because you’re so much faster than me, and in trying to keep up with you I ended up ruining my tires too early and they had to switch me onto the hard tires instead. Which meant I lost a ton of time and ended up, like, thirty seconds behind you by the end of the race.’

‘Right,’ Seulgi says, listening intently.

‘The thing is, Wendy never said that. I knew the reason, she knew the reason, and I’m sure if she’d have said that to you at the time, you’d know the reason too. It was because you were faster than me. That was why the strategy changed. You were better on your tires and you had the pace and they decided, as a team, that the best thing to do was to keep me behind you or else I’d ruin my race. Maybe I’d have even ended up behind Jennie. But nobody said that. Not even Wendy. She seemed to be tiptoeing around the issue, as if telling me I was slower than you would hurt my feelings too much. And you know what? That was kinda cute. She’s kinda cute. Sometimes I think she’s too nice for this world. But yeah, I wish she’d have just said it honestly, because it doesn’t bother me. Like I said, I’m okay with where I am right now. I’m fast enough to not cost the team points or risk my seat but not fast enough to hurt your chances at the championship, and as unbelievable as it might sound to a full-blown racer like you, I don’t mind that at all. I’m content. Your happiness is derived from proving you’re the best and constantly bettering yourself as a competitor. Mine comes from elsewhere. That’s just how it is’

Seulgi just looks at her.

‘Sorry,’ Joy mumbles, shyer than Seulgi has seen her in a long time. ‘I know I was rambling. I just felt I needed to get that off my chest or else I’d have this awful tension weighing on me when the season started. And I didn’t want it to get any worse. I like you a lot. I think we make a great team, you and me. A really great team. Today proved that.’

‘Yeah, it did. Thanks for telling me. I mean it.’

‘Any time,’ Joy says, smiling.

‘Did you want me to set you up with Wendy or something?’

‘What? Where did that come from?’

‘You said she was really cute.’

‘I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant it in a friendly way. A friendly cute.’

‘You sure?’

‘I’ve know her for years,’ Joy says. As if trying to convince herself. ‘I mean, obviously not as long as you have, but yeah. She was my race engineer before she was yours. I feel like we have a pretty deep bond. It’d be a bit weird. Right?’ Then she mutters, ‘She is cute, though. Always has been. Even cuter now. And with her hair short she's just— Anyway, are we going in?’

‘After you.’

The hall is packed full when they enter through the back. The rest of the amateur drivers are there, a varied range of old and young of all experiences. Half of them recognise Seulgi and Joy the moment they step into the room and wave or say hello and the two of them smile back and apologise for being late. It smells of incense and burning candles and it’s a pleasant smell that has them both savouring the moment. Knowing a weight has been lifted between them without Seulgi having ever known it existed in the first place. Twenty minutes into the meeting Joy leans over and whispers in her ear, ‘Have you prepared your victory speech yet?’

‘Who says we’re winning?’

And as if on cue, the man in the tuxedo at the front of the hall opens the silver envelope in front of him and holds it up and says, ‘And the overall winners of the Gapyeong 2021 Rally, in the First Class of the Open Division – Park Sooyoung and Kang Seulgi, of team Apex-Red Bull. Congratulations to both.’

‘There you go,’ Joy muses.

They nudge their way politely up to the front of the stage and shake hands and thank the coordinators and sponsors and wave out to the crowd amid a sea of cheers. The trophy is of a polished silver, a tall cup with wings and their names printed and embossed on the brass plaque on the base – KANG SEULGI, PARK SOOYOUNG, CLASS WINNERS. Seulgi’s smiling like she hasn’t smiled in a long time around anyone that isn’t Irene. Thinking: This was definitely a very good idea. I should do this more often. She glances over at Joy, still waving and bowing happily to the crowd, smile never faltering, and begins to think it was the best idea of all.

The first thing she smells as she walks through the door is the rich aroma of barbecue sauce and chicken, teasing her into the kitchen. She hangs up her coat and kicks off her shoes and stands for a while in the doorway watching Irene stir the chicken in the frying pan with a sort of strange culinary determination that looks rather adorable. ‘Just in time for dinner?’ Seulgi says.

Irene turns to her in surprise and breaks out into a warm smile. ‘I didn’t think you’d be back for another couple hours,’ she says. ‘Wanted to make it now and heat it up later for you. Figured we could have a nice dinner or something.’

‘Smells amazing.’

‘It’ll taste amazing, too. And it’s healthy. I mean, it’s nothing extraordinary or anything, but yeah. Chicken and rice is such a staple food that I feel everyone should be able to cook it properly, right? And be able to spice it up nicely. Variety is the set dressing of life.’

Seulgi just giggles in agreement.

‘How was your weekend?’ Irene asks, stirring the chicken and adding a helping of sauce for seasoning.

‘Good. Really good.’

‘How did the rally go?’

‘We won,’ Seulgi says.

‘No ?’

‘No . First in our class and first overall in the Open category. Seems we make a really good pairing, Joy and I.’

‘That’s amazing. I knew you could do it.’

‘So did I. Like I said, confidence. Goes a hell of a long way.’

Irene smiles softly at her. It’s a smile that Seulgi wishes for all the world she could capture and bottle and keep with her, a solace in any dark times, the calm in stormy waters. Irene adds a dash of salt and stirs and says, ‘I’ll just plate this up.’

They’re sat eating in silence at the table when Seulgi says, ‘What about you? Did you do anything this weekend? I feel like we haven’t spoken properly since Wednesday night. I forgot to ask you when I texted you if you were doing anything apart from that meeting you had with the watch people.’

‘IWC,’ Irene says between mouthfuls.

‘How did that go?’

‘Really well. The design is coming along nicely. It’s almost finished now. And they want me to be the cover model for their little promotion period, which I suppose makes sense, seeing as I designed it and all.’

‘Really? So does that mean I’m going to see your face on a bunch of big billboards in Gangnam?’

‘And my watch, I guess. But yeah.’

‘That’s pretty cool. You make a good cover model.’

‘Thanks,’ Irene says with a genuine smile of appreciation. ‘And I met Wheein on Thursday and Friday. We hung out for a bit.’

‘Wait, really? I thought you said she never hangs with anyone outside of work hours. If you can call F1 “work hours,” I suppose.’

‘She didn’t. But I thought it was because she disliked us or something. Turns out even after five years with her I’m the idiot. She’s just like me. Just doesn’t like texting people first. Only whereas I hated that time alone, she enjoyed it. And she wasn’t even alone in the first place. She just had friends away from F1 to be with. But I bit the bullet and asked her if she wanted to hang out and she said yes.’

‘Did you do anything interesting?’

‘Played some Gran Turismo Arcade.’

‘Both of you? How did that go?’

‘Went pretty well. I haven’t beaten my best time yet.’

‘What about Wheein?’

Irene chews what seems to be a particular tough piece of chicken. ‘Not even close,’ she says with a shake of the head. ‘Like, thirty seconds off the pace. Guess she’s just not cut out for Gran Turismo.’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

‘Well,’ Seulgi says, ‘guess we can’t all be as good as you.’

‘Or none of you, really.’

‘Wait until the others have a go first. So far it’s only been us and Wheein. I bet Yeri would be pretty good at it after a few tries.’

‘Like two hundred, you mean?’

‘We’ll see, won’t we?’

‘Guess we will,’ Irene says, fighting back the laughter. They eat in quiet save for the occasional smile at how their lives have seemingly turned out. How the months have passed so quickly and with such little reprieve. Until Seulgi says, ‘This is weird.’

‘What is?’

‘This. The domesticity of it. I don’t mean it in a bad way or anything. I love it. I really love it. It’s just…so different. Like, even last year felt different for some reason. The break felt shorter. It felt like there was still this impending weight that was going to come crashing down. As if I knew even back then that I was going to go through this whole losing myself and finding myself thing. Or you would. I don’t know. I can’t describe it properly. But now it’s different. I feel more…at peace.’

‘Me too,’ Irene replies. ‘How’s the food?’

‘Good. Really good. Even if it is just chicken and rice. You’re a really good cook, you know?’

‘I’ve got many hidden talents. Honestly, I don’t know where it comes from. But I like cooking. It’s sort of therapeutic to me.’

‘I’m just going to pretend I agree with you there. Anyway, thanks for the food.’

‘Thanks for sitting and chatting with me. I’m glad your rally went well.’

‘Yeah,’ Seulgi says. ‘Me too. Maybe I’ll do another one sometime in the future. If I ever get time between races.’

‘Maybe I’ll come along with you. Might even bring Jennie with me.’

‘Or Yeri?’

‘Probably not. Can you imagine Yeri in a rally car? God, I can’t think of anything more dangerous than that. And now with that Italian spirit she’s got in her since joining Ferrari? Jesus.’

‘I’d love to see it.’

‘Well. Maybe somewhere down the line. I think it’d be good fun.’

‘The best,’ Seulgi says. ‘Really the best.’