Naomi Hubert had always been a fixture in the racing world, a familiar face in the paddock and the heart of her family’s racing dreams. Her brother, Anthoine, was her best friend, her hero, the one person who understood her better than anyone else. Together, they shared a bond forged in the high-stakes world of motorsport—a bond that was shattered the day Anthoine lost his life on the track.
After his death, Naomi couldn’t bear to stay. The sights, the sounds, the people—they all reminded her of what she had lost. So, she disappeared from the paddock, cutting ties with everyone except for one person: Charles Leclerc. Charles had been Anthoine’s close friend, and through their shared grief, he had become Naomi’s confidant, the only one she allowed into her world of pain and isolation.
For two years, Naomi lived in the shadows of her past, avoiding anything and anyone that could remind her of the life she once had. She moved to a quiet town in the French countryside, far away from the roar of engines and the smell of burning rubber. She immersed herself in her studies, taking up courses in psychology, trying to understand her own grief while helping others through theirs. It was her way of coping, of finding some semblance of purpose in the void that had been left behind.
But Charles never gave up on her. He knew Naomi better than anyone, knew that she was stronger than the darkness that had consumed her. He called her often, keeping her updated on his life, on the races, on the people they both knew. He talked about his own struggles, his own grief, and how he was trying to move forward, even when it felt impossible.
"Naomi," Charles said one day over the phone, his voice soft but insistent, "you can’t hide forever. Anthoine wouldn’t want this for you. He’d want you to live, to be happy again."
Naomi sighed, her fingers gripping the phone tightly. She knew he was right, but the thought of returning to the world she had left behind was terrifying. "I don’t know if I can, Charles," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
"You can," he assured her. "Come to Monaco, just for the weekend. It’s not about the race; it’s about being with people who care about you. I care about you. Please, just think about it."
Monaco. The place where she had so many memories, both good and bad. The place where she had met Pierre Gasly, her first love, the man who had been there through some of the happiest and darkest moments of her life. Their relationship had been intense, passionate, but it had also been fragile. Anthoine’s death had broken something between them, something they hadn’t been able to fix. In the end, they had drifted apart, unable to cope with their shared grief.
Naomi had tried to forget him, tried to move on, but there were nights when she would dream of his smile, of the way he used to look at her like she was the only person in the world. Those memories were bittersweet, a reminder of what she had lost and what she could never get back.
But Charles’s words lingered in her mind, and after much contemplation, Naomi finally agreed to go to Monaco. She needed to face her past, to find closure—whatever that looked like.
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The Monaco Grand Prix was as glamorous and bustling as ever, with celebrities, fans, and racing enthusiasts filling the streets. Naomi arrived at the paddock with Charles by her side, her heart pounding in her chest. It felt strange to be back, like she was stepping into a world that no longer belonged to her. But Charles was there, his presence grounding her, reminding her that she wasn’t alone.
"Are you okay?" Charles asked, his brow furrowed with concern as they walked through the crowded paddock.
Naomi nodded, though her nerves were evident in her stiff posture. "I think so. It’s just… overwhelming."
