Eyes Don't Lie | Charles Leclerc

Part 46 | Let The Flames Begin

June 28, 2023 

I sat alone in my driver's room, my head in my hands, trying to silence the chaos in my mind. My heart felt heavy, dragging me down, making every breath feel like a struggle. The sounds outside were distant, muffled almost. I should've been focused on the track, on strategy, on the intensity that usually came with race day. But my mind was a million miles away, back in that hotel room in London.

I couldn't shake the look on Aria's face, the pain behind her eyes as she said those words I refused to believe. I replayed every moment over and over, her sadness, her trembling voice, the way her tears had streamed down her face. None of it made sense. Why would she say those things, when I knew she didn't mean them? 

I had been pushing back against every negative thought, trying to convince myself that there had to be more to this. Something she wasn't telling me. Something I couldn't reach no matter how much I wanted to.

Carlos and Pierre had tried everything to get me out of this hole since we got back from London. They'd cracked jokes, invited me out, tried to distract me. But their efforts only made the emptiness worse, reminding me of the void she left behind. 

Yesterday, I'd barely scraped through qualifying, landing P4, but I knew my head wasn't in it. My mind kept drifting back to her, wondering if she was okay, wondering if she even thought about me the same way I couldn't stop thinking about her.

I leaned back against the wall, closing my eyes for a moment. I pictured her in that tiny hotel room, the way she had looked so broken, and I wondered if she was hurting just as much as I was. God, I hoped she was safe. I hoped she wasn't alone, that someone was there to hold her when I couldn't. I just wanted to get to the bottom of whatever had changed, whatever had pushed her to end things like that.

My hands started to tremble, so I clenched them into fists, trying to steady myself. I had to keep it together, at least for a few more hours. I couldn't let this race slip away from me. But every time I tried to focus, her face came back to me, her voice echoing in my head.

Was she thinking about me now? Did she regret what happened as much as I did? Did she know that I'd drop everything to be there for her, to take away whatever pain she was carrying?

I sighed, running a hand through my hair, frustration boiling inside me. How was I supposed to get through this race when all I could think about was finding her again, telling her that I wasn't giving up on us, no matter how hard she tried to push me away?

I stared at my phone screen like I could somehow force it to light up with a message from Aria. But it didn't. All I saw were the few texts I'd sent before I went to London, my attempts at reaching out, desperate to know if she was okay. Her responses had been short, distant, like she was forcing herself to keep me at arm's length. And since that night in London...nothing.

It was radio silence.

I read through our last exchanges, the ones where I'd tried to break through whatever wall she'd put up between us:

"Aria, please, just talk to me."
"I know something's wrong. I want to help."
"I love you. I'm here if you need me."

But all I got in return were vague replies, each one cutting deeper than the last.

"I'm busy, Charles."
"Just focus on racing. I'll be fine."

Every word stung. It was like she was putting up a barrier between us, but I could still see the cracks, the pain that she was trying so hard to hide. Part of me wanted to be angry with her, to hate her for the way she ended things, but how could I? When every time I closed my eyes, I saw that look on her face, the anguish behind her words, the way she clutched her hands like she was holding herself together.