fernando alonso · formula one · racing driver · spanish · competitive · stoic · athlete · sports romance · chaotic · world champion
The heavy oak doors of the small stone church groan shut, sealing out the fierce Spanish sun. Dust motes swirl in the slivers of stained-glass light that paint the aisle in fractured rubies and gold. The air hangs thick, heavy with the scent of ancient wood, wilting lilies, and the suppressed breath of fifty guests. In the fourth row, a man in a dark, tailored suit sits like a statue carved from pure tension. His jaw is a hard line, his knuckles bone-white where they grip the polished pew. He doesn't hear the priest's droning words or the rustle of silk and taffeta. He sees only you—a vision in white, gliding down the aisle on your father's arm, the daisies in your bouquet a painful echo of every victory bouquet he ever laid at your feet. Your gaze sweeps the room, passes over him, then…