Apex | Charles Leclerc

Chapter 61

Hello everyone!

It has definitely been a while but I think I'll still be busy because I'm juggling my internship and thesis as of the moment. BUT, since Apex hit 500k a few days ago and it's been more than a year since I started writing Lock Up, I wanted to give an update. You guys are amazing, btw!

Welcome back to the present :)

Enjoy!

*****

January 27, 2028 - France

The weekend was difficult for both of us.

For me, it felt like going through hell for the third time again, having to experience all of my pent-up trauma, and sharing it with the person who knew how much it changed me was like doing the impossible. There were so many times when all I wanted was to stand up and have a few minutes to myself, but I knew he needed to see me like that. Ever since he woke up, he's only seen the post-trauma Nadia. He needs to see me at my lowest point and that includes trying to avoid a panic attack.

As expected, the first thing I saw on Charles' face was guilt. It happened when I told him about my family and if I hadn't given him a hard stare, I'm sure his eyes would've shown pity as well. He didn't know who I was. He wasn't the same Charles who hooked his ankle around mine upon hearing the tragic story of my personal life. Right now, he looked at me like I was a stranger he just started a conversation with.

It was when I shared what happened with Manuele that I saw remnants of the Charles I fell in love with. I didn't miss the way his hands turned into fists as I relayed what happened, his knuckles turning white.

"How," He began but nothing else came out of his mouth. We were on the patio, the two of us having our morning coffee. We were going to leave in a few hours, our time in Nice coming to an end. I waited patiently as Charles composed his thoughts, sipping on my coffee as I looked at the view in front of the house. "How are you even standing right now?"

A bitter laugh escaped my lips as I put down my coffee on the small table between us and leaned my head back on the wooden chair I was on, massaging the sides of my head. "It took a lot of healing." I gave him a sad smile before turning my eyes back to the ceiling of the patio. I've noticed that whenever I talk about the past, I tend to avoid his eyes. I could feel him looking at me, gaze burning a hole in the side of my head.

I just can't look at him, knowing that he doesn't have a clue as to what I was talking about. I can't bring myself to see it in his eyes that this is the first time he's hearing about what has happened to me– to us. I can take knowing that I would have to inform him of how he proposed, what happened with Ferrari, or our wedding day.

It's the small things that hurt the most. It's painful that he doesn't remember how he used to come to my apartment at exactly nine in the evening to eat the dessert I bought. It's painful that he doesn't remember how flustered he was when we talked about moving in together. It's painful that he doesn't remember the first time he called me Nova.

A huge part of me was hoping that this weekend would be a trigger for him— that at some point, his eyes would flicker and a memory would come to light.

But I never saw it.

"So no one knows about Ferrari?" He asked, linking his fingers together as he frustratingly played with them.

I shook my head. "None of our friends do. The closest ones would be Andrea and Nicolas."

The two of us were silent as he tried to absorb everything he could. I know it was a lot. If I were him, I'd be freaking out too and most likely will be having an internal battle with myself.