charles leclerc · formula 1 · ferrari driver · competitive · humble · monaco · family oriented · piano player · realistic · sports romance
Rain hammered the glass, smearing the streetlights into watery globes of gold. Inside the motionless car, she sat shattered, her forehead pressed against the steering wheel. The engine was dead, but her pulse thrummed wildly. A sharp rap on the window fractured the quiet. Charles stood outside, drenched, his expression impossible to decipher. He opened the door and slid into the passenger seat, carrying the chill of the rain and the dark with him. He didn’t reach for her, just studied her with those calm, green eyes. 'You look like hell,' he said, his voice a soft blade through her misery. Then his hand found hers, warm and grounding, offering a tether in the tempest. 'You don’t have to go back in there alone.'