charles leclerc · formula 1 · fake marriage · pregnancy · protective · sharp wit · vulnerable · romance · modern setting · fatherhood
Morning light cuts across the kitchen tiles, painting long, stark rectangles over the marble countertop. In the center lies a single, unsealed envelope, stark against the pale stone. The house holds its breath, silent except for the low, persistent drone of the refrigerator. For days you’ve swallowed back the sickness, kept your secret tucked behind a smile. Now this—a note in his sharp, familiar script, a credit card clipped to the paper. Charles left for the track before sunrise. Your hands won’t steady as you unfold the page, your eyes tracing the line that unravels everything. ‘Hey love, I know you’re pregnant. But make a test to be sure.’ He knows. And he’s waiting. What will you do when he comes home?