Burning Heart // CL16

Twenty Three

Austria to France...no two races could have been more different for Charles if he tried.

No two weekends could have been more different for me either.

The win in Austria was fantastic and he was elated to finally be stood on the top step once more, the counter on races since his last win was finally reset. We did celebrate together... but not fully. I helped celebrate him and then he celebrated me in the familiar comfort of his driver room but we had planned to properly enjoy ourselves when we got back to the hotel after the whole team celebrations. The issue was that we had both gotten too blackout drunk for anything to happen, instead we woke up next to each other, still clothed and both in so much pain from our hangovers we could barely comprehend moving for water, let alone anything more pleasurable. After I finally recovered enough to get out of the bed, I had to go back to the UK for another photoshoot and he had to go to Italy so we hadn't had the opportunity to see each other in person until we were in France.

I left that weekend feeling like we had finally made steps forward. Finally making progress. I believed what he said about the article and Marian 'trapping him', especially when he showed me the messages as proof and demonstrated how his lawyers were trying and failing to get the article pulled but it was a major magazine and would be shared widely and unfortunately, they had every right to publish whatever they wanted.

Walking into the garage on Saturday I had been so excited, ready for a good day and an opportunity to see him as I hadn't flown in until this morning and so had no opportunity to really catch up before I headed straight to the track. The biggest downside of the weekend was that I was Kiraz-free this weekend once more, but part of me was keen to enjoy the lack of judgement in her eyes as I responded to Charles' every beck and call. Pathetic, I know. The excitement faded pretty quickly as I stopped mid step towards his section, seeing a particularly unwelcome guest sat on her phone. Standing next to her, visibly flustered and frustrated was Charles who was clearly trying to talk to her but getting no response. His head snapped to meet my expression of confusion and hurt at seeing her there with a guilty look of his own. He had tried to rush over to me but I was already in Carlos' side, away from his attempts to make it better, needing a moment to try and wrap my head around things and figure out what had gone wrong.

Again.

That's what hurt the most was that this was the third time I'd walked into the garage, thinking that Charles and I might actually be ready to start something, only to have it cruelly taken away and bought back to reality once more. Reality was that I wasn't good enough for him, he would always choose his image over me. He would never truly leave her so what was I doing here? Why was I kidding myself?

"Alessia," I hear him beg as he squats down next to me, taking my hand in his despite the looks we were receiving from around the garage - the engineers and such conveniently standing in a way that would block any outward eyes as they glanced at us, my face looking away from the apologetic Monegasque. "I-it's not what you think," he begs quietly and I just shake my head as I look away, so angry not just at him but myself. This was the third time.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me three times...well, fuck.

I was so dumb. That was all I could think as I shut myself off from hearing his words and his acts.

"I didn't ask her to be here...she just turned up. I told you, I promise..." I could hear the promises coming through the air but couldn't help but feel as though they were empty. They couldn't be trusted as I looked at the ground, my eyes not even tearing up as I moved to numbness, the only way to compartmentalise the disappointment right now. The anger was so much stronger than my sadness. "Alessia!" He says urgently, trying to get my attention and I just shake my head and continue to look away.