"This isn't what driving is about."
Damien leaned back in the seat, eyes still on the track beyond the pit lane, his tone thoughtful. "Then what is driving about?"
Vivienne was already outside the car, but she paused at the sound of his voice. She turned, leaning one hand lightly on the open door, her expression unreadable.
"It's not about pedals," she said. "Not really. Not once you've got the basics down."
She tapped her temple.
"It's about how you think. How you feel—under pressure, in motion, at speed."
She took a slow breath, gaze shifting out toward the vast open loop of the track. The low lights caught her features—hard angles, sharpened by memory.
"When you're in traffic," she said, "you learn restraint. Timing. You stop reacting, and start anticipating. One eye on the lane, one on the drivers around you. You don't waste energy braking unless you have to. Eventually, if you're good, you stop needing brakes at all."
She met Damien's gaze again.
