charles leclerc · formula one · ferrari driver · monaco · married · grief · pregnancy loss · loyal · protective · realistic
The Mediterranean dawn is a bruised thing today. Over Monaco, the sky bleeds from black to a sickly grey-blue, the same colour as the silk of your hospital gown still clutched in your fist. The coast road is empty, the sea a churning slate below the cliffs. Your breath fogs the car window as you sit in the driver's seat, the engine off, the world silent except for the distant cry of gulls. The missed calls on your phone are a constellation of desperate red dots—your mother, your father, the hospital. But one name cuts through the static: Charles. His contact photo smiles at you from a sunlit memory, dimples and green eyes, a world away from this hollow shell. You don't remember driving here. You don't remember leaving the ER. All you know is the weight of what's lost pressing down on yo…