Petrol in his Veins // Charles Leclerc

17

sorry for this long period of not updating. There is so much going on at the moment and on friday im already again on my way to Monaco. But I'll try to give you sone updates this week <3 and thank you for all your votes and saves. I appreciate that ♡

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The light of the setting sun streamed through the wide windows of Charles' Monte Carlo apartment. He sat on the sofa, clutching a cushion tightly, his face etched in deep lines of frustration.

His ribs ached with every movement, a constant, creeping pain that reminded him of his fragility. The thick cast on his arm constrained each of his movements; every task, no matter how simple, had become a challenge.

A deep sigh escaped his lips. Life as a professional race car driver had given him so much - fame, success, and the chance to live his dream. But now? Now it had almost cost him his life.

The worst part of it all wasn't even the pain or the inconvenience. It was the frustration, the impatience, the waiting. And while he waited, Jolie had to bear it all. Her concerned glances when he got up or tried something he shouldn't. The gentle yet firm hand that helped him when he stumbled or faltered.

As he thought of the summer vacation they had to cancel, he felt anger building up inside him. They had so many plans - traveling, relaxing, enjoying their time together. "I never thought physiotherapy could be so strenuous," he growled as Andrea entered the apartment.

Andrea gave him a scrutinizing look. "We're making progress, Charles, you just have to be patient."

"Patient?!" Charles' voice was sharp. "Since the accident, I've been doing all this shit, and I still feel like a wreck! My ribs are still screwed up, and I can't even move my damn fingers."

"It takes time, Charles. Your body has been through a lot," replied Andrea calmly, though his gaze was stern.

"Maybe I should find someone else, someone who can truly help me," Charles snapped impulsively.

A long silence followed. Andrea took a deep breath. "I'm doing my best. It's not up to me how fast you recover."

The words hung in the air, heavy and unforgiving. Charles finally mumbled, "I could have died, Andrea... like Jules." Andrea sight and gave him a soft look

The ensuing silence was stifling. Charles swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I... sorry."

Andrea nodded. "I understand, Charles. But you need to realize recovery takes time. And anger isn't going to help."

"I'm just so frustrated," Charles admitted, rubbing his temples. "I want to drive again, be myself."

"And you will. But now, you need to rest and recover."

After Andrea left, Charles felt terrible. He knew his words were unnecessary and that he had vented his frustration at the wrong person. He grabbed his phone and texted Andrea:

>>I'm sorry, Andrea. I'll get better<<

Jolie came home beaming and full of energy from an event. As she unlocked the apartment door, she cheerfully exclaimed, "I'm home!" She dropped her bag and slipped out of her stilettos, which were more decorative than comfortable that day

In the living room, she found Charles, sitting on the sofa, visibly drained from the physiotherapy. She approached him and planted a gentle kiss. "How was physio?" she inquired with a hint of concern in her eyes.