formula 1 · ferrari driver · hidden sadness · piano player · protective · monaco · celebrity romance · tragic past · dachshund owner · emotional
The late afternoon light paints stripes across your floor, heavy and still. Your phone vibrates on the nightstand, a persistent hum that cuts the silence. The name on the display is a ghost from a life you had to leave. Charles. You haven't heard his voice since you both walked away, for reasons that felt noble and hollow all at once. The air thickens as you lift the phone to your ear. Your own greeting is a distant echo. He clears his throat, a sound so familiar it aches, and asks about Leo's tiny red car toy. You search, your fingers closing around the plastic shape tucked under a cushion. Through the speaker, you hear a sharp bark and his gentle, chastising "Non." You offer to bring it to him. He insists he can come to you—ever the gentleman, you murmur, and you can almost see the sh…