𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐈 | 𝐂𝐋𝟏𝟔

𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐈𝐈

·˚ ༘

────────────────────────────────────────

May 19th 2023

ZAHRA NICHOLS

Keir was at the center of it all, constantly shoving tweets and posts in my face. "Nichols, look at this! They're talking about you and Charles again!" he exclaimed, genuinely trying to be helpful but only adding to my stress.

Friday in the paddock was a blur. I was moving between jobs when Anderson, called me out. "Zahra, we need to talk. Hotel meeting room, tonight, 9 PM," he said, his tone serious. Panic started to creep in, barely able to focus on the rest of my tasks.

I tried to concentrate on my interviews, jotting down notes and nodding along to responses, but Anderson's words were playing on a loop in my head. Every time I glanced at my watch, my heart pounded harder.

I was supposed to interview a few more drivers, and usually, I'd be excited, or at the very least unfazed. Today, though, I felt like I was on autopilot, my questions coming out flat and uninspired. The drivers answered politely, and on paper, it would seem like things were going smoothly. I forced a smile, thanked them, and moved on, trying to keep my composure.

Keir, caught up with me during a break. He shoved his phone in my face, showing me tweets and comments. "Look at this, Nichols," he said, his voice full of concern. "People are going crazy over what Charles said."

I glanced at the screen, my stomach twisting. "Zahra's actually really pretty," one tweet read. Another said, "Charles is close with a reporter? What's going on?" My eyes scanned the comments, some of them supportive, others downright nasty. "Zahra's a homewrecker," one read. "Charles can do better," said another. I felt sick.

"Walsh, please, I can't deal with this right now," I said, pushing his phone away.

"I know, I know," he said, backing off. "But you need to be aware of what's out there."

"I am," I snapped. "I just... I need to get through today."

I pushed through the rest of the day, my focus slipping constantly. I could feel the eyes of other reporters and team members on me, whispers and glances following me everywhere I went. My heart raced every time someone approached, fearing they'd bring up the interview, the comments, the rumors.

As the day finished and I finally headed back to my hotel room, the stress was eating me alive. My hands shook as I unlocked the door, my thoughts a jumbled mess. I barely noticed Alma was here until she spoke.

"Zahra, you need to calm down," she said gently, handing me a cup of coffee. "It's going to be okay."

I took the cup, my hands trembling. "You don't understand, Alma. This could ruin everything. Anderson wants to talk to me at nine. What if he's going to fire me?"

She shook her head, sitting down beside me. "You're one of the best reporters they have. They're not going to fire you over this. Besides, does he really have the power to fire you?"

"I don't know," I whispered. "I've worked so hard to get here, and now it's all falling apart."

Alma stayed with me for a while, trying to reassure me, but nothing seemed to help. When she finally left, I was alone with my thoughts, anxiety clawing at me. I paced the room, my mind racing with worst-case scenarios. What if Anderson didn't believe me? What if he thought I was involved with Charles? What if this really was the end of my career?