Eyes Don't Lie | Charles Leclerc

Part 43 | Simply Lovely

June 21st, 2023

I woke up early, the morning sun just starting to filter through the curtains. Aria was still nestled against me, her body fitting perfectly into mine as if she belonged there. I watched her sleep for a moment, her soft breaths steady and calming, but my mind was anything but at ease. 

Last night had been perfect, but I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was terribly wrong. From the moment she walked back through the door, I knew. The way her eyes flickered with something dark, the tension in her body, the way she forced a smile, it all screamed that something was off. And when she told me she had just gone out to get some air, I knew she was lying. 

My heart ached for her. I didn't know what was going on, but I could feel it, the weight of whatever she was carrying. I wanted so badly to push her, to ask her what was wrong, to take it all away, but I knew better. Aria was strong, sometimes too strong for her own good. So, I didn't press her. I just held her, kissed her, loved her. I'd be there when she was ready. 

But as much as I tried to tell myself that, it didn't stop the worry from creeping in, from settling deep in my chest and making it hard to breathe. I hated that she felt like she couldn't tell me, whatever it was. I hated that there was something hurting her, something I couldn't fix. 

I felt her stir against me, her body shifting slightly, and I tightened my hold on her instinctively. A few moments later, she opened her eyes, blinking. For a brief second, her sleepy smile tugged at her lips, and I almost believed that everything was fine. But then, just as quickly as it appeared, her smile faded, and reality crashed back in. 

I could see it, the weight of whatever was on her mind pressing down on her, pulling her away from me, even though we were still wrapped in each other's arms. 

"Morning amour," I said softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. She looked up at me, her eyes distant, even as she gave me a small smile in return. 

"Morning," she whispered back, her voice a little too quiet, a little too fragile. 

I wanted to ask her, to push her, to make her tell me what was going on. But I didn't. Instead, I kissed her forehead and just held her close, hoping that maybe, in time, she'd open up. As we lay there, I waited for her to say something, anything about what was on her mind, but she didn't. Not a single word about last night. 

It was as if she was pretending everything was fine, pretending that whatever had happened the day before didn't exist. She rolled out of bed eventually, smiling weakly as she stretched, pretending like she was her normal self. But I knew better. I could feel it in my gut, the tension, the unspoken worry hanging in the air between us. 

I got up too, watching her carefully as she moved around the room, pulling on clothes for the day. I felt my nerves spike, wondering when she'd tell me, if she ever would. But she avoided my gaze, going about the morning like it was any other day.  

As we moved through the motions of the morning, the silence between us felt heavier than ever. I could feel her slipping away, like she was pulling back from me, and it terrified me. I didn't want to lose her. I couldn't lose her. But I couldn't force her to talk, either. I'd be here for her, ready when she was. I just hoped that when the time came, she'd trust me enough to let me in. 

As I struggle to keep my mind in check, I can't help but feel the weight of our impending goodbyes. Both Aria and I had flights to catch, me to Austria, her to London, and the thought of being apart, especially after everything that happened, ate away at me. 

It didn't feel right, leaving when I knew something was wrong with her. I wanted to stay, to figure things out, but I couldn't. Racing was my job, and this race weekend wasn't something I could miss. Still, my thoughts were far from the track.