𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐈 | 𝐂𝐋𝟏𝟔

𝐗𝐗𝐗𝐈𝐗

·˚ ༘

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November 26th 2023

CHARLES LECLERC

The roar of the crowd in Abu Dhabi was deafening, even from inside the car. The final race of the season would always be heavy, a blend of excitement and pressure that could be felt in every corner of the track. As I settled into the car, the hum of the engine beneath me, I tried to focus on the race ahead. But no matter how hard I tried, thoughts of Zahra kept creeping into my mind.

Every time I saw her, anywhere, everywhere, it sent shivers down my spine. Zahra's presence was intoxicating, a reminder of what I wanted but couldn't have. She had become my muse, the spark that fueled my drive. Her deep, brown eyes always seemed to be looking over the world around her, filled with a tons of curiosity and determination. Her laughter was infectious, a musical sound that could brighten even the darkest of days.

The way she carried herself—confident, poised, yet approachable—made her stand out in any crowd. Her hair, dark and cascading down to her shoulders in waves, glowing ever so brightly. I often found myself captivated by her smile, a perfect blend of warmth and mischief that hinted at the intelligence and wit behind it.

But it was more than just the way she looked that drew me in. Zahra had a warmth about her, a light that seemed to brighten any room she entered. Her passion for her work and her dedication to uncovering the truth were admirable, but it was her kindness and positivity that truly set her apart. She was relentless, never backing down from a challenge, yet she did it all with a smile that could melt the coldest of hearts. Her integrity made her not just admirable, but completely irresistible. Yet, I knew I had to push those feelings aside, at least for now.

The lights went out, and the race began. I darted off the line, weaving through the pack, my reflexes sharp and my mind focused. Every lap was a test, a chance to prove myself. But as the race wore on, I found my thoughts drifting back to Zahra. It was a dangerous distraction, one that could cost me dearly.

I thought about the way she would tilt her head slightly when she was deep in thought, her brows furrowing just a bit. The way her eyes would light up with curiosity and determination, making her look even more captivating. When she spoke, she leaned in, giving you her full attention, making you feel like you were the only person in the world. Her laughter, always genuine, had a way of lifting your spirits, no matter how tough things got. Her passion for her work, her strong independence, and her endless kindness—all of it made her the most remarkable person I knew.

I thought about how lucky I was that Zahra had given me so many second chances. Despite my mistakes and the mess I had made of things, she had always found it in her heart to forgive me, to see the better side of me. Her patience and understanding were gifts I didn't deserve. Each chance she offered was a reminder of her kindness, her belief in me, and it fueled my determination to be better, not just for myself, but for her. In a world where second chances were rare, I was incredibly lucky to have hers, and it made me realize just how deeply I cared for her.

It was nearly impossible to keep my focus where it needed to be. Coming out of turn five, I could see the grandstands packed with fans, their energy palpable. Among them, I imagined Zahra, her eyes following my every move. It was foolish, I knew, but I couldn't help it. She was there in the back of my mind, pushing me forward, driving me to do better.

Mid-race, the realization hit me like a brick. I wasn't just racing for the championship or the glory. I was racing for her. Every turn, every overtake, was fueled by my desire for her. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once. Her presence was a constant, lingering in the back of my mind, pushing me to exceed my limits. I could almost feel her eyes on me, scanning every move, every decision I made on the track. 

The thought of disappointing her was unbearable, and it drove me to take risks, to fight harder. This race wasn't just about winning points; it was about proving to myself that I was worthy of all the chances she had given me. The intensity of it all made my heart race even faster, knowing that everything I did out here was, in some way, for her.

The laps ticked down, and I fought to maintain my position. But even as I battled for every inch on the track, Zahra kept lingering in my mind. Her smile, her laugh, the way she looked at me—it was all there, pushing me to the limit.

Finally, the checkered flag waved, signaling the end of the race. I crossed the line in P2, a respectable finish. But as I slowed the car and made my way back to the pits, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had won something far more important. The engine's roar faded, replaced by the cheers of the crowd. This was Abu Dhabi, the last race of the season, and finishing on the podium here felt like a victory in itself.

Stepping out of the car, the cheers of the crowd washed over me, a thunderous applause that felt both overwhelming and exhilarating. I pulled off my helmet, breathing in the cool evening air, and waved to the fans, their enthusiasm was admirable. As I looked around, my eyes instinctively searched for her in the sea of faces. And then, there she was, standing at the edge of the crowd, her eyes locked on mine. She was wearing a simple yet elegant white dress, her hair curled and up in a ponytail, and smiling.

Before I could approach her, I was ushered to the podium. The ceremony was a storm of handshakes and smiles, a blur of congratulations from other drivers and team members. Standing on the podium, the national anthems played, and I felt a sense of pride and accomplishment. The crowd erupted in cheers as the champagne bottles were handed out, and the spray of champagne started. The sticky sweetness of victory covered us all, a shared moment of triumph.

As the celebrations died down, I couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. A few reporters approached me, microphones in hand, eager for a post-race interview. I answered their questions truthfully, giving them the usual rundown of the race, but my mind was elsewhere.

None of them were her. I had hoped Zahra would be among them, her wandering eyes and sharp questions always a challenge and a thrill. But she was nowhere to be seen, and that left a hollow feeling in my chest.

I made my way back to the pits, the euphoria of the podium ceremony still ringing in my ears. The team congratulated me, clapping me on the back, but my thoughts were fixed on Zahra. The realization that she had been watching me, that she had been there, gave me a strange mix of comfort and frustration.

I wanted to run to her, to tell her everything that had been swirling in my mind during the race. But instead, I stood there, soaking in the moment, knowing that our story was far from over.

This race might be done, but the race for her heart had only just begun. I knew that winning her over would take more than just a good performance on the track. It would require honesty, vulnerability, and a willingness to confront my own feelings. As I scanned the crowd one last time, I caught a glimpse of her again, her expression softened. She gave me a small nod, a silent acknowledgment of what had passed between us.

I felt a new sense of determination. The season might be over, but there was still so much to fight for. I made my way through the throngs of fans and team members, my heart pounding with anticipation. I had finished second on the track, but with Zahra, I was determined to come out on top. 

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𝐀𝐔𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐘'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒
❀ I feel like this chapter should've been longer, but it's not
and I feel weird, but like I don't have anything
left to write?????
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