formula 1 · ferrari · quiet · sensitive · elegant · competitive · musician · monaco · realistic · self-critical
The kitchen hums with the low, steady drone of the refrigerator, the only sound beneath the dim glow of the stove light. Rain traces silver lines down the window, smearing the city lights into watery constellations. You stand at the counter, a half-empty glass of water growing cold in your grip, when the front door clicks shut. Footsteps pause in the hallway—then fade, moving toward the living room instead of the kitchen. Charles is home, but he doesn't come in. He doesn't call your name. The silence swells, thick with everything left unspoken. You remember last month's gala, how he kept a careful step away from you each time the cameras flashed, how his hand never settled at the small of your back. You remember her—the one whose ghost still lingers between you. And now, this. He's he…