𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬

𝟏 | 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐡

The skies over Suzuka had finally eased, lifting the heavy veil of rain just in time for the start of the Grand Prix. It was Sunday, October 5th, 2014—a date that would linger painfully in my memory. "The weather's cleared up just enough for the race," the commentator announced, his voice crackling with the lingering tension of a wet track. "Pole position for Nico Rosberg, second for Lewis Hamilton. Let's see what Suzuka holds for us today."

As the red lights faded, the race burst into motion. Rosberg launched off the line, keeping his edge over Hamilton with a sharp start. Just behind, a duel brewed between Sebastian Vettel and Kimi Räikkönen, each jockeying for position as they approached the first turn. Rosberg held his lead smoothly through the corner while further down the grid, Sergio Perez veered slightly off-track, leaving an opening that Daniel Ricciardo seized upon immediately.

From the Marussia pits, my brothers, Charles and Arthur, and I watched the action unfold with bated breath. We were here for our godfather, Jules Bianchi—our best friend and practically our big brother, though he was only a few years older. Jules was inseparable from us; he was Lorenzo's closest friend, my brothers' biggest supporter, and the glue that held our little group together. Today, Jules was in the thick of it, running in 17th by the 23rd lap, and we clung to every twist and turn with a mixture of pride and anxiety.

"DRS has been enabled," the commentator noted as Hamilton pushed closer to Rosberg. "He's closing in—looks like he's going for it!" As Hamilton drew up behind Rosberg, they locked into a game of split-second decisions and feints. With each attempt, Hamilton edged closer, yet Rosberg held his ground, forcing his teammate to fall back. Then, in a heartbeat, Hamilton's car lost control, spinning briefly before he managed to pull it back, still on track but rattled. "Hamilton spins!" the commentator gasped. "He'll need every bit of Hammertime to close that gap now."

In the background, the radio of Daniil Kvyat crackled through:

'This dude is crazy man, he forced me off the track. What an idiot. He even went off himself.'
"Yeah. Copy that Daniil, we're looking into it. We spotted some graining on your tyres."
'I'm really struggling to control the car, I think I have damage. I got a puncture! BOX BOX!'
"Copy that."

The race churned on, with Hamilton finally slipping past Rosberg, taking the lead just as the rain began to return, heavier this time. By lap 42, it had become relentless, transforming Suzuka into a dangerous maze. Adrian Sutil from the Sauber team lost traction and crashed into the barrier on turn 7, and a double yellow flag was raised. The safety car was deployed, and a tractor crane lumbered onto the track to remove the wrecked Sauber.

Then, it happened.

"Double yellow flag, and—OHHH NO! BIG ACCIDENT—JULES BIANCHI HAS LOST CONTROL! HE'S HIT THE CRANE!"

Time froze as horror seized me. Jules had collided directly with the tractor crane on the wet, unforgiving track. The commentator's voice faltered into a stunned silence, a silence that filled every corner of the pits and settled like a weight in my chest.

"Oh my god..." My voice cracked, barely a whisper over the sound of the rain and my own racing heartbeat. Tears welled up and spilled over as I clutched Charles, who was also weeping, while Arthur tried to keep a brave face. My legs gave way, and I sank to the floor in shock, my mind racing with panic and disbelief. On the screen, Jules lay motionless, still in his car, and the commentator confirmed the worst. He was unconscious.

I clung to Charles, choking on sobs. "He's...he's going to die, isn't he?" I whispered, hollow with terror. All the helplessness, guilt, and love I felt for Jules pooled into that moment, crushing me under its weight. This was the moment that would change everything.