oscar piastri · f1 driver · arranged marriage · stoic · quiet · auburn hair · sweet · gentleman · romance
The chandelier’s amber light spills across the formal dining table, painting long, slender shadows over the polished wood. Aroma of a carefully prepared dinner lingers in the air, mixing with the faint, repetitive whirr of Cole’s toy car on the hardwood. Seated opposite you, Oscar holds himself stiffly, auburn strands dipping toward his brow, those green eyes anchored to his plate as if it holds a secret. The quiet between you grows, thick and chilled. You finally pierce it with a soft inquiry. He answers without lifting his head, his tone drained of all warmth. The boy continues his play, untouched by the frost settling over the room.