Driven to you - OP81

It had all started when her parents decided to get a divorce. Honestly, they should've done it much earlier—maybe then the rest of the family could've been spared a few pointless heartaches. But no. Her parents—whom she loves and resents in equal measure—chose what they thought was the best way to protect their children: by keeping them out of it entirely.

In theory, it wasn't the worst idea. In practice? A disaster.

Shipping your four kids off to a boarding school in the UK isn't exactly the definition of protection. Letting them stay there for the rest of their school years—only returning home to Italy for holidays—wouldn't make the shortlist in How to Be a Decent Parent, Vol. 1. But that's what happened. And what's done is done. You can't change the past—you can only try to make something better out of what's left.

And somehow, her life did get better.

It started when she was thirteen, holding back her own fear while comforting her younger brother Giovanni with trembling reassurances like, "No, they're not abandoning us, Gio," and "No, we're not going to an orphanage." Her life began to change—slowly, then all at once—five months, twenty-five days, and an uncounted number of minutes later.

Everything shifted when a new student joined their boarding school. He sat next to her in English literature class. Said he didn't have his supplies yet. Took half of hers. And just like that, something in her life tilted.

Oscar Piastri.

From the moment he entered her world, nothing was quite the same. And not a single day has passed since without her regretting—not that he came into her life, but that she couldn't stop herself from loving him. That boy—then man—who looked at her like she had hung the stars herself, arranging constellations just to reflect across her cheeks like freckles.

It all began when they were fourteen—young, foolish, and in love—when they still didn't understand the weight of the love they shared. When everyone around them thought they hadn't grasped a thing about life, brushing them off as just another pair of kids dreaming up a future too distant, too unrealistic to ever be real.

What no one understood was that those two kids had already figured life out.

Oscar didn't dream of becoming a Formula One driver—he would become one.
Costanza didn't just hope to be an international lawyer—she would be one.

But most of all, they both knew—without question—that they would always be together.
And that part? That would never change.