𝙾𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢┃ Charles Leclerc┃

Chapter Thirty Two - The Hospital

The rest of the afternoon dragged on like an eternity, each passing minute weighed down by the heavy burden of uncertainty and fear. Despite the efforts of my dad, Evie, Lando, and the other drivers to keep my mind occupied, I couldn't shake the deep-seated feeling of misery that gripped me like a vice.

I tried to busy myself with mundane tasks, anything to distract myself from the gnawing worry that threatened to consume me whole. But no matter how hard I tried to focus on trivial matters, my thoughts inevitably circled back to Charles.

Dad and Evie hovered around me, their attempts at comfort falling short against the backdrop of my anxiety. Lando, too, tried his best to lift my spirits with his infectious energy and enthusiasm, but even his jovial demeanor couldn't penetrate the thick fog of worry that clouded my mind.

The other drivers offered their support in the form of hugs and words of encouragement, their gestures of solidarity providing a fleeting moment of solace in the midst of the storm raging inside me. But beneath their kind words and sympathetic glances, I could sense the same undercurrent of fear and uncertainty that gripped me tight. Everybody was scared. Everybody.

Despite the warmth of their presence, I still felt utterly alone, a solitary figure adrift in a sea of anguish and doubt. And as the hours ticked by with agonising slowness, I knew that the shadow of misery would continue to loom over me until I received word of Charles' condition.

But that all changed when I received a phone call from an unknown number.

I raised an eyebrow as I pressed the familiar green button that flashed upon my screen. "Hello?"

"Anastasia, it's Nicolas Todt, Charles' manager." The voice hesitated. "He's awake."

The next hour felt like a whirlwind of chaos and uncertainty, each passing moment fraught with tension and apprehension. As I prepared to make my way to the hospital, my dad offered to accompany me, his presence offering a sliver of comfort in the face of the unknown.

We quickly made arrangements with Mel, my manager, to ensure that the McLaren higher-ups were informed of our whereabouts. I couldn't muster any enthusiasm for the prospect of facing them again after our tense conversation earlier, but it was a necessary formality given the circumstances.

With Evie's care entrusted to Mel, I felt a pang of guilt at leaving her behind, but there was no other choice. She didn't need to be made upset by seeing Charles in god knows what state.

Despite the reassurance that he was awake, my stomach churned with unease as we made our way to the hospital. The uncertainty of Charles' condition loomed over me like a dark cloud, casting a shadow of dread over every step I took.

As we drove, my mind raced with a jumble of thoughts and fears, each one more terrifying than the last. I desperately tried to push them aside, to focus on the possibility of good news awaiting us at the hospital, but the nagging sense of dread refused to be silenced.

With each passing minute, the knot of anxiety in my stomach tightened, threatening to suffocate me with its intensity. All I could do was cling to the hope that Charles would pull through, praying for a miracle in the face of overwhelming uncertainty.

Walking through the hospital corridors felt like navigating through a maze of sterile white walls and fluorescent lights. Once upon a time, hospitals held no fear for me; my mother worked in one, and I would often accompany her on her rounds. I came frequently in the early days of my diagnosis, and it never fazed me. But since her passing, they had become a haunting reminder of loss and despair.

The clinical atmosphere, the antiseptic smell that permeated the air—it all felt suffocating, devoid of any warmth or humanity. The lack of decoration only added to the sense of emptiness, each stark corridor stretching out endlessly before me like a desolate wasteland.