𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐈 | 𝐂𝐋𝟏𝟔

𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐕𝐈

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October 19th 2023

CHARLES LECLERC

The paddock was bustling as usual, but today the energy felt more suffocating than ever. It was media day, and I could feel the eyes of every reporter and camera lens burning into me, waiting for me to slip up, to give them something to feed their headlines. 

"Charles! Over here!"

"Can you comment on the recent allegations?"

"Is it true you were seen with another woman?"

The questions came at me from all sides, each one more relentless than the last. I forced a smile, trying to maintain my composure as I dodged them all. I couldn't answer yet; I wasn't even sure of the full extent of the damage myself. I needed to focus, to keep moving.

I quickened my pace, my eyes scanning the crowd for a familiar face. Then, I saw her—Zahra. She was standing near the entrance to the media center, preoccupied in her notes. I didn't think; I just started walking faster to catch up with her.

"Zahra!" I called out, my voice cutting through the noise. She looked up, her expression hardening as she saw me approaching. I could see the conflict in her eyes, a mix of disappointment and something else, something that made me feel even more wretched.

"You fucked up. Big time," she said coldly, not even giving me a chance to speak. Her tone was controlled, lacking of the warmth I was used to, but there was no venom. It was as if she had more to say, but the words were held back, trapped behind a wall of restraint.

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. We stood there, locked in silence, the chaos of the area swirling around us. I wanted to explain, to tell her that things weren't as black and white as they seemed, but the look in her eyes told me she wasn't interested in my excuses.

I took a deep breath, trying to find the right words, but Zahra's gaze was sharp. Her eyes, usually so bright and full of life, were now guarded, hiding the storm I knew she must be feeling.

Finally, she broke the silence. "I'm not allowed to interview you," she said with a sigh, her tone icy. "Anderson will. Tell him the truth, he might save you."

She had always been able to read between the lines, to understand the weight of a situation, but now she was holding herself back, maintaining a distance that felt hopeless.

And with that, she turned and walked away. As I watched her disappear into the crowd, I felt a crushing sense of loss. The reality of my situation crashed down on me. Zahra was right. I had fucked up. Big time.

I stood there for a moment, feeling more lost and alone than ever. Zahra's coldness wasn't just about the scandal; it was about the trust I had broken, the bond we had shared that now felt damaged. She had more to say, I was sure of it, but this entire situation had silenced her.

The media frenzy hadn't let up. Since the moment I stepped into the paddock, I'd been bombarded with questions, microphones thrust into my face, cameras flashing relentlessly. I'd perfected the art of dodging, giving answers that were just vague enough to keep the press at bay but not satisfying enough to answer their insights.

I kept my responses neutral, non-committal. "We're looking into it." "No comment at this time." "We'll address it soon." Each answer was a smart dodge, a way to buy time.