Chapter Thirty
◆◆◆
Aria
Mia had answered on the third ring.
“Aria?”
The sound of her voice—warm, familiar, the same voice that had laughed with her over playlists in Monaco, that had texted her dumb memes during long flight delays—had nearly broken her right there.
“Mia… I need to talk to you about Jax.”
A long pause on the other end. Then Mia’s voice, careful: “Okay. I’m listening.”
Aria took a shaky breath. “I’m so sorry.
For lying to you. For lying to Dana too.
The whole thing with Jax… it started as an arrangement.
A fake relationship. Publicity for both of us.
I needed to make Min-Jae jealous, he needed to look settled after some bad headlines.
We agreed. Three months, appearances only, no feelings. ”
Silence stretched. Aria kept going before she lost her nerve.
“I know how much Jax means to you and Dana. How close you all are. I never meant to hurt anyone. I thought it would be easy—smile for cameras, hold hands for photos, then walk away. But after a while… everything became real.”
Her voice cracked. “The friendship with you and Dana—it became real. I loved those nights on race weekends, talking about music and boys and nothing. I loved feeling like I belonged somewhere that wasn’t a stage. And Jax…”
She swallowed hard, the memories rushing in so vividly she could almost feel his touch again.
“Jax became everything. The first time he really kissed me—my knees nearly gave out. I remember thinking: this isn’t pretend. This is fire. And I was already burning.”
Tears slipped down her cheeks as she spoke.
“Every time after that… God, Mia. The way he’d look at me….”
Her breath hitched.
“And it wasn’t just physical. That was the part that terrified me most. He listened. Really listened. When I told him how lonely it was to be sixteen and already famous, how I sometimes felt like I was performing even when I was alone, he didn’t try to fix it. He just held me tighter.”
She wiped at her face with the back of her hand.
“I realise now I fell hard. But I convinced myself he didn’t feel the same.
That to him it was still just the arrangement—something convenient for his image, something physical when the cameras were off.
I told myself I was reading too much into the way he looked at me, the way he’d kiss my forehead when he thought I was asleep, the way he’d say my name like it hurt to let it go.
I thought I was the only one who’d crossed the line. ”
She swallowed again.
“When he told me after Silverstone that it had run its course, that I should go back to Min-Jae… I thought that was proof. That he was giving me an out. That maybe he was doing me a favour. But lately I’ve started wondering…
what if it became real for him too? What if he thought he was doing me a favour by letting me go?
What if he thought I wanted Min-Jae back? ”
Mia stayed quiet. Aria’s heart hammered.
“You don’t owe me anything after I lied to you,” she whispered. “I know I broke your trust. But I’m hoping… maybe you could tell me where Jax is right now. And maybe… give me some idea if he might be open to hearing any of this. If there’s even a chance he felt it too.”
A long sigh came through the line. Aria’s stomach dropped. This was it—Mia was angry. Hurt. She’d ruined one of the few real friendships she’d made in this glittering, isolating world.
But when Mia spoke, her voice was soft, almost gentle.
“I wish you’d told me this sooner,” she said. “I think I could have helped. We could all see it wasn’t fake. The way you looked at each other, the way he softened around you… the only people you two were fooling were yourselves.”
Aria’s breath caught. Heartened, aching, she pressed the phone harder to her ear. “You really think—”
“Before you go rushing off,” Mia interrupted quietly, “there’s something you should know.”
Aria went still.
“Jax is back in Brisbane,” Mia said. “He’s taking a break from everything. No media. No events. Just… home.”
Aria nodded even though Mia couldn’t see her. “Understandable. The championship pressure was insane. He deserves time to breathe.”
Another pause. Then Mia’s voice dropped lower. “It’s not about the championship, Aria. It’s his Nan. She’s sick. Really sick. Weeks left. Maybe less. He’s gone back to be with her. To look after her. To sit with her every day she has left.”
The words landed like a punch. Aria’s free hand flew to her mouth.
She thought back to the broadcast after the race—the camera panning to the grandstand, catching Jax on his knees in front of the small, frail woman in a wheelchair.
She’d looked so tiny against the roaring crowd, silver hair catching the floodlights, hands clasped tight.
Aria had noticed how fragile she seemed, how the travel must have drained her, but she hadn’t connected it. Hadn’t understood.
“How long has he known?” she whispered.
“Since Silverstone.”
The timeline clicked into place like a lock turning. Silverstone. The call where he’d told her the arrangement had run its course. Where he’d gently, politely, given her permission to go back to Min-Jae.
“He didn’t want you to stick around out of sympathy,” Mia said quietly. “He thought if you knew how bad it was, you’d feel obligated. He didn’t want that for you. He wanted you to be free to go back to what he thought you really wanted.”
Aria’s eyes burned. “Of course it wouldn’t have been sympathy,” she said, voice breaking. “I love him. I just want to be there for him. I can’t believe he didn’t tell me.”
Mia’s sigh was soft, understanding. “He’s protecting everyone he loves the only way he knows how—by carrying it alone. But he’s hurting, Aria. More than he’ll ever admit. He needs people who care about him. Really care.”
Aria pressed her palm to her chest, feeling her heart slam. “What do I do?”
“You need to make a choice,” Mia said gently.
“If you’re going to go to him, go because you want to be there for him—through the grief, through the hard days, through whatever comes next.
Not just because you want him back. He’s not in a place to play games or figure out feelings right now. He needs steady. He needs real.”
Aria nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I know.”
There was a long beat of quiet between them.
“I’m sorry again,” Aria whispered. “For lying. For hurting you and Dana.”
Mia’s voice softened further. “I’m not angry. I’m sad we didn’t know sooner. But I’m glad you’re telling me now.”
A small, broken laugh escaped Aria. “Thank you. For listening.”
“Always,” Mia said. “Just… think carefully about how you show up for him. He’s going to need you to be strong too.”
The call ended.
Aria sat in the quiet green room, phone still pressed to her ear, the weight of everything settling over her like a blanket.
Jax was in Brisbane.
His nan was dying.
He’d carried it alone since Silverstone.
And he’d let her go because he thought that was what she wanted.
She closed her eyes. Saw him on his knees in front of his nan at Yas Marina—small, fierce, broken open with pride and grief. Saw the way he’d looked at her in those stolen moments—hungry, tender, terrified—like she was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.
She opened her eyes.
She had a choice to make.
And this time, she wasn’t going to wait.
She opened her messages. Started typing to Robert.
Book me the first flight to Brisbane.