Chapter 616

Chapter 616:

Staring at the sleek sports car, Zahir felt memories stirring, as if they were just within reach. Drawn by the sensation, he stepped forward and ran his hand over the car. It felt familiar.

“Why not take it for a spin?” Madisyn suggested.

Zahir slid into the driver’s seat, instantly feeling as though he and the car were one.

Waylon leaned toward Madisyn and whispered, “Zahir was unbeatable back in the day, with multiple championships. But it’s been years. Are you sure he should drive?”

“Why don’t you have a friendly race with him?” Madisyn said with a smile.

“Sure, but isn’t that kind of unfair?” Waylon asked, scratching his head.

“It’s just a friendly race to help Zahir get back into the groove,” Madisyn assured.

Waylon gave a quick nod of approval, and Zahir followed suit.

They headed to a private racetrack and started the race. On the sidelines, Madisyn, Andrew, and another team member kept a close watch.

A wave of tension hung over the group.

This race wasn’t just about Zahir recovering his memory—it was their chance to make it to the international competition. They could handle losing, but giving up before even starting? That was unacceptable.

Andrew’s gaze remained fixed on Zahir’s car, unblinking.

When the race started, Waylon’s car shot forward, leaving Zahir trailing sluggishly behind. Within minutes, Waylon had covered half the track, and Zahir’s car was still within sight.

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The team member sighed. “Zahir hasn’t raced in years—there’s no way he’d get back into the groove this quickly.”

Anxiety crept in—what if they couldn’t compete tomorrow?

The words were barely out of his mouth when Zahir’s car disappeared from view in an instant. Shock rippled through everyone, quickly replaced by a burst of excitement.

Behind the wheel, Zahir watched the scenery blur past. The speed filled him with life—vibrant and exhilarating—like a splash of color after endless gray days.

Zahir stomped on the accelerator, the car roaring forward until he spotted Waylon in the distance.

Unaware of Zahir’s approach, Waylon drove at a steady pace, not pushing too hard.

With a sigh, he thought his sister had overestimated Zahir—racing someone this out of practice seemed pointless.

Whoosh! A streak of red flashed by in an instant.

Waylon blinked in disbelief. By the time he gathered his thoughts, Zahir had already crossed the finish line. He rubbed his eyes, convinced he was seeing things.

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