On and Off the Track

N I N E T Y T W O.

Race day started early, the paddock already alive with a buzz, a current of energy flowing through the teams, the drivers, and the fans. Charles was up before me, his mind already locked into the routine he needed to follow. When I finally woke up, I found him standing by the window, dressed in his Ferrari team gear, staring out at the view of Abu Dhabi, the track just visible in the distance.
"Ready?" I asked, rubbing my eyes as I sat up. He glanced over his shoulder and nodded.
"As much as I can be," he replied, his voice steady but quiet. I slipped out of bed and moved over to him, resting my hand on his back. We stood in silence for a moment, both looking out at the track.
"You've got this," I said softly, repeating my reassurance from the night before. Charles turned to lean down and kiss my forehead.
"Let's get to the track."

The paddock was pure chaos when we arrived. Fans lined the walkways, camera flashes going off every second, the air thick with anticipation. The moment had arrived. This was it. As Charles made his way into Ferrari's garage, I hung back, giving him the space he needed. I watched as he greeted the engineers, the strategists, everyone who had been part of his journey to this point. There was a quiet confidence in the way he moved, an understated determination that I knew all too well. I spent most of the morning floating around the paddock, catching up with familiar faces but my thoughts kept circling back to Charles. I knew what this race meant, not just for him but for his entire career. In the Ferrari hospitality suite, the big screens showed race preparations, cutting to Charles now and then, his face focused and intense. The paddock was pure chaos when we arrived. Fans lined the walkways, camera flashes going off every second, the air thick with anticipation. The moment had arrived. This was it. As Charles made his way into Ferrari's garage, I hung back, giving him the space he needed. I watched as he greeted the engineers, the strategists, everyone who had been part of his journey to this point. There was a quiet confidence in the way he moved, an understated determination that I knew all too well.

I spent most of the morning floating around the paddock, catching up with familiar faces, exchanging quick hellos and hugs, but my thoughts kept circling back to Charles. I knew what this race meant—not just for him, but for his entire career. There was something in the air, that mix of excitement and dread, and I could feel it settling in my chest like a weight. Eventually, I found Mila leaning against a railing near one of the food stands, casually sipping on a bottle of water, looking completely unbothered by the chaos around us. I, on the other hand, was a ball of nerves.
"You look like you're about to pass out," Mila said, laughing lightly when she saw me approach. I tried to smile, but I could feel the tension in my jaw.
"I'm just... so stressed," I admitted, letting out a shaky breath. "I can't stop thinking about everything. This race, how much it means to him. I'm terrified something's going to go wrong." Mila gave me a sympathetic smile and reached out, squeezing my arm.
"Hey, it's going to be okay. Charles has got this. He's one of the best drivers on the grid, you know that better than anyone. He's prepared, the car's ready, and the team knows what they're doing." I nodded, but the anxious knot in my stomach didn't loosen.
"I know he's good, I just... I can't help it. It's like this feeling that something is going to happen. I just want everything to go perfectly." Mila laughed softly, shaking her head.
"That's love for you. When you care about someone that much, every little thing feels like the end of the world. But trust me, you're worrying for nothing. He's got it under control, and so do you." I bit my lip, glancing over at the big screens in the hospitality suite where Charles' face appeared again, focused and intense, surrounded by his team. He looked calm, in his element, ready for whatever the race would throw at him. I wished I could be as composed.
"I just don't want to see him disappointed if something goes wrong," I said, my voice quieter now. "This race could change everything for him." Mila sighed and pulled me into a quick hug.
"Bronte, listen to me. Charles is a fighter. No matter what happens, he'll come out stronger. You've seen him go through ups and downs before, right? He'll handle it. And you'll be right there to support him, just like you always do." I nodded again, feeling a little bit of the tension ease at her words.
"I just... I love him, Mila. I want this so badly for him." Mila smiled, her eyes softening.
"I know you do. And that's why he's going to win, because he knows you're rooting for him. He's got you by his side, and that's all the motivation he needs." We stood there for a moment, watching the preparations on the screens, the hum of the paddock buzzing around us. I tried to focus on what Mila said, letting her reassurance sink in. Charles was ready, and I had to trust that everything would fall into place.
"Thanks, Mila," I said quietly, offering her a small smile.
"Anytime," she replied, bumping my shoulder lightly. "Now stop stressing and enjoy this. He's going to be amazing."