national treasures| Charles Leclerc

thirty-one

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The team's reaction is exactly what I expected: mixed.

Carlos, of course, was the first to find out. 

I couldn't keep it from him—not with the way he always seems to know when something's on my mind. 

He caught me sneaking a glance at Camille across the paddock, and before I could even think of an excuse, he gave me a knowing look and said, "It's about time."

His grin was annoyingly smug, but it eased some of the tension that had been building in my chest. 

Carlos has always been the kind of friend who can read between the lines, who knows when to push and when to step back. 

His quiet support is something I've always appreciated, but hearing him say those words—It's about time—made me realize that maybe this isn't as impossible as it feels.

Lewis, on the other hand, was cautious. 

Supportive, but cautious.

When I told him, he nodded thoughtfully, his expression carefully neutral. 

"You know what you're doing, mate?" he asked, his tone calm but serious. 

"This isn't just about you anymore. It's about her, too. The media, the team, the fans—they're going to have opinions, and not all of them will be kind."

I appreciated his honesty, even if it wasn't exactly what I wanted to hear. 

Lewis has always been the voice of reason, the one who thinks three steps ahead. 

And he's right—this isn't just about me. 

It's about Camille, about us, and the risks we're taking by letting ourselves try again.

The rest of the team, though... 

That's where things get complicated.

Some of them are happy for me—for us. 

There are a few quiet congratulations, polite smiles, and even one or two jokes that help lighten the mood. 

But others... not so much. 

I can feel the whispers, the sidelong glances, the unspoken questions about whether this will be a distraction, whether it will pull focus from the races.

And honestly? 

I can't blame them.

Formula 1 is a world of precision and control, where even the smallest mistake can cost you everything. 

Relationships—especially ones as complicated as mine with Camille—don't exactly fit neatly into that world. 

There's a part of me that worries they're right, that this will somehow derail everything I've worked for.

But then I think about Camille—about her laugh, her determination, the way she looks at me when we're alone and the rest of the world fades away. 

She's not a distraction. 

She's a reminder of why I do this, of why I push myself every day to be better.

Still, it's hard to ignore the tension. 

It's there in the way some of the engineers hesitate before speaking to me, in the way the team principal's gaze lingers just a little too long during meetings. 

It's subtle, but it's there, and it follows me like a shadow every time I step into the garage.

I try to focus on the races, to drown out the noise and keep my head in the game. 

But it's not easy. 

Every time I see Camille in the paddock, I feel that pull—the same one that's always been there, no matter how much time has passed. 

It's a distraction, yes, but it's also a reminder of what I'm fighting for.

Because this isn't just about winning races anymore. 

It's about proving to myself, to the team, to the world that we can make this work. 

That Camille and I are stronger together than we are apart.

And as challenging as it is, I know one thing for certain.

She's worth it. 

She always has been.

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Navigating the team's reactions is like walking a tightrope—every step feels uncertain, like one wrong move could send everything crashing down.

Carlos surprises me by becoming an unexpected ally. 

He doesn't make a big deal out of it, but his quiet words of encouragement are exactly what I need to hear. 

"You've got this," he says one afternoon in the paddock, his tone casual but sincere. 

It's a small moment, but it means more than I can put into words. 

Carlos has always been easygoing, but there's a steadiness to him that I'm learning to appreciate in a whole new way.

Lewis, as expected, takes a more measured approach. 

He pulls me aside after a meeting, his expression thoughtful. 

"This is a big deal, Camille," he says, his voice calm but firm. "Don't let it pull you away from what you're here to do. Keep your head in the game, no matter what anyone says."

I nod, appreciating his advice even though part of me bristles at it. 

Lewis means well—I know he does—but it's hard not to feel like I'm being reminded of what's at stake every time someone looks at me a little too long or speaks to me a little too carefully.

The rest of the team is harder to read. 

They don't say much, but their silence is telling. 

I can feel their eyes on me during every practice, every race, like they're waiting for me to slip up. 

It's not the same as the pressure I've felt before. 

This isn't about proving I belong on the grid—it's about proving that my personal life won't overshadow my career.

It's a different kind of weight, one I'm not entirely sure how to carry yet.

Being in the spotlight for my racing is something I've grown used to. 

I know how to handle the questions, the speculation, the endless scrutiny of every lap time and performance. 

But this? 

This is personal. 

This is about Charles and me, about a part of my life that I've worked so hard to keep private.

And now, it's all out in the open.

I don't know if I'm ready for this—if I ever will be. 

There are moments when I catch myself wondering if it's worth it, if trying to make this work with Charles is too big a risk. 

But then I think about him, about the way he looks at me when we're alone, like I'm the only thing in the world that matters. 

And I know I can't let this break me.

I've fought too hard to get here, to prove that I belong, to let anything—or anyone—derail me. 

The team's reactions, the whispers, the tension in the garage... I'll handle it.

Because this isn't just about me anymore. 

It's about Charles, about us, about what we're trying to rebuild together. 

And if I've learned anything from racing, it's that the best victories are the ones you fight for, even when the odds are stacked against you.

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