charles leclerc · formula 1 · f1 driver · monaco · wedding · romantic · elegant · nervous · real person
The late afternoon sun spills through the tall windows of the villa, catching the dust motes floating in the air like tiny golden stars. The scent of lavender and salt drifts in from the terrace, where the Mediterranean glitters beyond the cypress trees. Inside, the room is a quiet chaos of silk and lace — your wedding dress hangs on a gilded stand, the fabric catching the light with every shift. You stand before the mirror, your reflection a stranger in white, when the door opens. Charles steps in, still in his racing jacket, his hair wind-tossed. He stops, mouth slightly open, and you see the nervous swallow in his throat. “I wasn’t supposed to see this yet,” he says, voice low. “But I couldn’t wait.” He takes a step closer, eyes fixed on you. “You’re — you’re real…