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Racing Hearts: A Second Chance
In my third year with Aiden Foster, the Foster family came to take him back to inherit the business empire. I stormed off in a rage and went mountain racing.
I never expected the brakes to fail, sending me plummeting off a cliff, my body shattered beyond recognition.
With me—his stain—gone, Aiden returned to the Foster family.
After my rebirth, I chose not to reveal myself to him.
But when I passed by him, Aiden suddenly called out:
"Excuse me, I was wondering—as a professional racer, why do you have corner phobia?"
1.
The moment the car flew off the cliff, I knew I was dead.
I could even hear my own bones cracking.
As a professional race car driver, I knew exactly what would happen when you rocket off a mountain curve at that speed.
Everything was predictable from the moment I discovered the brake failure.
Too confident in my skills and too stubborn about my fight with Aiden, I'd pushed the speed to maximum. By the time I realized the brakes had failed, survival was impossible.
I had a cigarette between my teeth, trying to type one last message to Aiden in my final moments. But there was so much I wanted to say.
Like how sorry I was, how I shouldn't have pressured him.
Or how it would've been better if Aiden had never met me in the first place. Then his life would've been smooth sailing.
But facing death, all those thousands of words boiled down to just one sentence.
"Babe, I want to eat your chicken noodle soup."
Edit, send—all in one fluid motion.
I took off the pendant hanging around my neck, placed it in my palm, and kissed it gently.
Perfect timing. The car soared through the air, then—CRASH.
The out-of-control vehicle plummeted to the bottom of the cliff. No survivors.
2.
I don't know how long I was unconscious.
The darkness before my eyes gradually gained color, with deafening engine roars pounding against my eardrums.
The sunlight was blinding. I struggled to open my eyes and made out a pair of unfamiliar young hands gripping a steering wheel.
These are... my hands? I was confused for a moment.
Weren't my hands already scarred from years of training?
"Noah! Why aren't you getting out? Did training fry your brain?"
An unfamiliar young navigator who'd removed his helmet walked over, casually patting my shoulder with friendly familiarity:
"That drift was pretty sweet. Keep improving at this rate and you'll be racing competitively in no time."
Who was he? Wasn't I dead?
Who was Noah? And who was I?
My mind was still in chaos, but this strange racing navigator pushed me along to get barbecue.
Passing by a mirror, I met a completely unfamiliar face, and I was inside this body.
I suddenly realized I was the Noah he was talking about.
I had been reborn with a new identity.
3.
My racing navigator was named Sean Lee.
He took me to a barbecue joint in the suburbs.
Racing burns money—everyone involved comes from families with deep pockets.
The place was far from downtown, but the food was good. I remembered when our racing team used to train, we'd always choose places like this for team dinners.
Noah's racing team was no different.
After a few drinks, the team manager stood up: "I've got an announcement, everyone—we've got new investment!"
He deliberately drew out his words, building suspense.
"Aiden Foster—you know, the Foster family heir? The one who just inherited the Foster empire? He's investing thirty million dollars in racing teams across our state."
"Thirty million..." Everyone gasped in amazement.
"Now that's serious money..."
Amid all the excitement, I slowly lowered my eyes and picked at the sauce-covered lettuce in my bowl.
Right, I'd almost forgotten—Aiden was the Foster family heir.
Whenever he wanted, he could reclaim his status and leap back to being the kind of elite that ordinary people could never reach.
But for me—his burden—Aiden had fought with his family.
During our hardest year, we huddled together in a cheap apartment, sharing a single bowl of his homemade chicken noodle soup.
I hung my head. "Babe, am I holding you back?"
Aiden touched my head and casually stubbed out his cigarette.
"My baby's suffering alongside me—I'm the one who should feel sorry. Eat up before it gets cold."
Aiden always called me "baby," even though compared to me, he was the one who actually carried Foster family blood.
...
The team's celebration clashed with my increasingly heavy mood.
I stepped outside for a cigarette and overheard the servers gossiping about Aiden too.
"Didn't they say that Foster kid refused to come back home? What changed his mind all of a sudden?"
"I heard his precious treasure fell off a cliff and died so badly they couldn't even find intact bones. With nothing left to hold onto, he naturally went back to inherit the family business."
"Well, old man Foster only has Aiden as his real son. Anyone with half a brain knows what choice to make."
Yeah, anyone with half a brain would know what choice to make. But Aiden was the kind of fool who'd stick to his guns no matter what.
I silently finished that thought for her.
The Foster family would only take Aiden back on one condition:
He had to swear to marry properly and have children.
Send me abroad to fend for myself and never see each other again.
I exhaled a thin ring of smoke that dissolved into the barbecue steam, making me cough.
Just then, Sean pushed me from behind, jolting me back to reality.
"Noah, what are you doing out here alone? The meat's ready—come eat! Look how skinny you are, watch out for low blood sugar."
I flicked my cigarette butt into the trash can by the door.
The spicy barbecue smoke stung my eyes.
It reminded me of what Aiden's father had said when he called me into his study:
"You and Aiden are just having a twisted romance. You're both too young to understand what forever means. Max, I don't care who made the first move—I just need you to leave Aiden. You'll soon discover he can live without you."
He was right. Aiden didn't need me—I was the one who was greedy for him.
With the Foster family's status and position, there were plenty of high-society daughters for Aiden to choose from.
And with both of us being public figures, our relationship could never see the light of day.
I'd tried to plan my exit early on.
But the night before, Aiden had kissed me on the yacht. He'd been drinking, his broad shoulders leaning against my thin frame.
"Baby, don't leave me."
My voice caught—I thought our secret was out.
"Babe, why are you saying that all of a sudden?"
Aiden sounded almost childlike: "I don't know. I just suddenly feel like you're going to leave me someday."
My heart softened. I touched his head and whispered gently:
"Babe, let's run away together. We'll be together forever."
The spicy barbecue scent snapped me back from the memory.
I wolfed down a couple bites—tears would make the soup taste weird.
4.
Since I hadn't been racing in so long, when I got my racing suit, I went to the track to do a couple warm-up laps.
Walking to the locker room, I heard whispering from the next stall.
I wouldn't have paid attention, except I caught the name "Max" in their conversation.
"I heard Max died. What a shame. He was probably the best of the younger generation."
The speaker sounded dismissive: "Tch, the best?"
"Do you know how Max fell from grace? It's disgusting when you think about it. Everyone thought he was the Foster family's golden boy, right? Handsome, rich, good-tempered, flashy looks—had all the female fans obsessing over him."
"But turns out he was just some kid whose mom married into the Foster family. Not even Foster blood. The only reason the Fosters acknowledged him was because he and his mother were cut from the same cloth—managed to seduce Aiden within a few years."
The other person sounded shocked: "...Aiden? Isn't he...?"
The first speaker's tone was cold:
"Yep, his adoptive brother. The Foster family has strict rules—no way they'd allow the younger generation to mess around like that, especially such a massive scandal. Of course they kicked him out."
"That's when Max's racing career was completely over. No team would put a gay guy on the track."
I couldn't listen anymore. I grabbed some pants someone had left lying around and hurled them over the partition.
The underwear landed perfectly, covering both men.
One of them yelled: "Who the hell—are you crazy?!"
I crossed my arms and glanced back.
Bullseye. My aim was still sharp.
5.
I ran a straightaway at the training track, gradually recovering the feel and rhythm I'd lost.
After a perfect drift, I stopped at the finish line.
When my eyes unconsciously swept toward the stands, I felt momentarily dizzy. Before our secret relationship was exposed, Aiden would always find time to watch me train, no matter how busy he was.
Back then he was already a seasoned business executive with little passion for racing—he just bankrolled my career.
When Aiden buckled my seatbelt in the passenger seat, he'd press his forehead against mine with a pitying look:
"Baby, you owe me so much. You're gonna have to pay me back with yourself."
I'd kiss his face and breathe suggestively:
"How do you want me to pay you back, babe?"
Since there weren't many venues in the city, this was the biggest one—all the teams practiced here.
While I was still lost in thought, Sean got in my car, muttering: "So crowded today."
I shrugged: "It was always pretty busy."
Sean rolled his eyes.
"Aiden Foster's here, isn't he? Everyone's busting their ass to impress the big shot and score some investment. Who knows when the boss man started caring about racing—even some outsiders are here trying to suck up, and the teams have to assign people to schmooze them."
Aiden... was here? My mind went blank.
Looking up, I spotted Aiden in the stands with several team managers bowing and scraping behind him.
For one instant, our eyes met, and I froze completely.
But Aiden looked away. He didn't recognize me—just saw me as another ordinary racer.
He seemed to hear something, lowered his head, and naturally took papers and a pen from someone nearby, signing with fluid strokes before giving quiet instructions.
Total East Coast elite vibes.
I thought: So this is how good his life could be without me.
I decided not to reveal myself to him.
Without me, he could live even better.
Maybe even better than that.
"Noah, why do you keep spacing out lately? This won't work—focus is the most important thing for a racer."
Sean snapped me back to reality: "Come on, let's run through this together."
I woke up as if from a dream. I wasn't Max anymore—the only thing I couldn't let go of was my feelings for Aiden.
But now seeing Aiden doing so well, even my last attachment as Max was fading.
No one lives in the past forever.
What mattered now was living Noah's life to the fullest.
With that resolved, Sean and I locked eyes, and the car shot out from the starting line in a perfect drift.
The straightaway was easy enough, but the moment I saw the curve ahead, my fingers began trembling violently.
It was like being back on that night, flying off the cliff, the car spinning out on the turn, plummeting down, my body destroyed completely.
"Noah! Noah! Are you insane?! Take the turn!"
I heard someone calling my name, but I couldn't hear anything anymore.
Who was Noah...? Who was I?
Someone lunged forward and grabbed the steering wheel, managing to navigate the curve with dangerous, split-second precision.
The moment we stopped, I was about to speak when I saw Sean, who'd just survived near-death, furious enough to breathe fire:
"Jesus Christ, don't say a word. We're going to see the team doctor. You've been way off these past few days—don't tell me you've got motion sickness or something."
In front of the doctor, I came clean.
"Sorry, I don't know why, but lately when I see curves I just... I can't control myself. My whole body goes cold, my fingers freeze up, and I can't do anything. This has never happened before."
The doctor took notes professionally: "Any recent car accidents?"
I paused. Sean had already answered for me:
"No accidents. He crashed his scooter into a telephone pole buying groceries a month ago—does that count? He hasn't even been racing. How could there be an accident?"
The doctor frowned: "But what you're describing sounds like severe traumatic stress disorder. That usually results from a serious crash during a turn, but looking at you now, you've got all your limbs..."
"Traumatic stress disorder."
I'd only heard that term in textbooks and from coaches.
I never thought it would happen to me.
It had to be aftereffects from the cliff c