𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐈 | 𝐂𝐋𝟏𝟔

𝐗𝐋𝐈𝐕

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July 20th 2024

ALMA CLARKE 

Walking through the Hungary paddock, I held my phone to my ear, trying to focus on the conversation with my fiancé, Jeffery. "Okay! We can invite your thirteen aunties and four step-cousins, but they are sitting at the furthest table from us," I said, half-jokingly. Jeffery laughed on the other end, agreeing with my terms. "Okay, love you, bye."

As I hung up, I spotted Zahra and Charles walking past each other. Zahra flashed Charles a smile, one that seemed a little too warm, a little too familiar. That's odd, I thought. Last time I checked, Zahra couldn't stand Charles.

I started down a mental rabbit hole, my thoughts racing as I pieced together the events of the past few months. Zahra and Charles had been left alone at his place in Monaco for a few weeks—an assignment her supervisor or editor Anderson had arranged, leaving them to their own devices without any real supervision. It seemed innocent enough, but the more I thought about it, the more things didn't add up.

Both of their partners had been conveniently gone or missing during that time. On first glance, Wesley and Zahra seemed to be going strong. They live together, moved to London together, they've been with each other for years. But oddly enough, Wesley hadn't come up in our conversations for weeks. Zahra used to gush about Wesley all the time, sharing cute stories or venting about the smallest arguments. But recently, there had been dead silence on that front.

Francesca, on the other hand, used to be a staple at the races, always there to support Charles, her presence as constant as his helmet and racing suit. But ever since the cheating rumor surfaced last season, Francesca's appearances had faded away. She was there for a few races, but that was last season. We're thirteen races in this season, and she's only showed up for two: Bahrain and Monaco. Conveniently, those are the first race of the season, and Charles' home race. The only important races she had to be present as.  Recently she had become a ghost in the paddock, her absence raising eyebrows but not enough to create any real scandal—at least, not yet.

I recalled the way Zahra and Charles interacted. There was an ease between them that hadn't existed before Monaco. They would share quick, stolen glances, and their smiles held a secret only they seemed to understand. They were subtle but noticeable if you knew what to look for. And I did.

Then there were the little things—Charles' new dedication to making it to Zahra's interviews, no matter how busy his schedule was that day. Zahra had an excitement over her reports that involved Charles, even when he didn't perform well. It was the way they moved around each other, like planets caught in each other's gravitational pull, always drawn back together despite their efforts to remain professional or stay apart.

I remembered the last few conversations I had with Zahra. She had been oddly quiet about her personal life, dodging all questions about Wesley. When I asked her if Wesley was planning to come to any of the races, she had shrugged it off, saying he was busy with work. It wasn't like Zahra to be so vague about her relationship.

It's not just me. Keir and Zahra would often share a connecting room, whenever Zahra would ask, they'd share. Just the other day, he told me something must've been off with her since they're rooms these past few races were very far from each other, sometimes not even on the same floor. When I asked Amara, she said that the last time she spent the night with Zahra was Monaco for the rehab report, funny enough. All three of us collectively agreed something was off, there was something she was hiding. She wasn't as open with us as she was before.