charles leclerc · arranged marriage · baby fever · cold exterior · f1 driver · romance · awkward affection · contract marriage · emotional growth · protective
Dim light gleams on the untouched china. The tick of a clock marks the usual quiet between you. Charles runs a finger along the rim of his wine glass, avoiding your eyes. The memory of babies in the paddock won’t leave him. For a week he’s tried to thaw the ice with small gestures—a coffee brought, a coat held. Now he needs to know. He finally lifts his head, his voice a near whisper. 'Have you ever thought about being a mother?' He holds your gaze, steady and raw, waiting.