Until my last breath

16

August 2022
Monaco race week
Qualifying

I pull on my white team shirt, slipping my arms through with a kind of anticipation I haven't felt in a while. This is it—the last race before summer break, the one I've been looking forward to and dreading in equal measure. My place at the top of the championship may already be sealed, but Monaco? Monaco is different. It's almost like my home circuit, i spent so much time here with Jules and its also my mother's favorite. I need to end on a high note.

I check the time. Media day has passed, but interviews still wait before qualifying, and I've been hiding from the press more than usual. Today, there's no more avoiding them. Steeling myself, I step out of my driver's room, and in an instant, they swarm me—microphones, cameras, every angle under their scrutiny.

"Rita, how does it feel to be back on the paddock?"

"Where have you been all these months?"

"Any updates on your mother?"

That one stings. I barely contain my flinch. But the questions keep coming, faster than I can process, digging into the places I'd rather they didn't. I breathe in, feeling my pulse racing faster than it should.

"Move back," I say, louder than I intended. But my voice barely breaks through the frenzy.

Someone touches my shoulder—too familiar, too much—and I feel the air tighten around me. "Guys, please..." I try, but there's no space to think, no chance to even breathe.

One reporter's voice cuts through the noise, "How's your mother, Bianchi?"

That question lingers, a bitter reminder I wasn't prepared for. I've handled press all my life, trained to face anything, but today, something snaps.

"Move!" I yell, pushing through, my voice louder and sharper than I've ever heard it.

A few steps ahead, I spot Lorenzo, his worried gaze locked onto me. The moment I reach him, I bury my face in his shoulder, barely managing to whisper, "Enzo, they were... I couldn't..."

"Ree," he whispers, pulling me close. "I'm here. They're gone now, alright?" His hand strokes my hair, grounding me back. "I should've been there sooner. That was my fault."

"No, it's not... I just, I couldn't handle it." I force myself to calm down, taking a few deep breaths until the tears stop threatening.

When I pull back, he wipes a stray tear from my cheek. "You're alright now?" he asks gently. "Because I know you have a press conference, and you're the pro at this."

I nod, and he grins, offering one more bit of advice. "If they ask anything you don't want to answer, just skip it. Arthur and I will be watching from the back."

With one last hug, I slip away and step onto the conference stage. The familiar setup of chairs, cameras, and eager reporters seems somehow sharper, as if every angle of the room is designed to catch every flicker of expression.

The questions begin as soon as I sit down.

"It's good to see you back in Monaco, Rita," the interviewer says.

"Good to be back," I answer smoothly, managing a small smile.

"Since the Spanish Grand Prix, you've secured your winning points for the season. Any thoughts about how that impacts your approach this weekend?"

My fingers tap against the armrest, but my voice stays calm. "Honestly, winning only makes me want to win more. Monaco has always been a special circuit for me, so I'll still be pushing for a good result."