national treasures| Charles Leclerc

thirty-two

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

The moment I step into the small café where Camille arranged for us to meet Hugo, it feels like stepping into a piece of the past. 

There's a familiarity in seeing him again, even though it's been years. 

He's taller now—almost my height—but his features still carry that same boyish warmth. 

The way his eyes light up when he sees me is exactly the same, and it's impossible not to smile back.

"Charles!" he exclaims, crossing the space in a few long strides to pull me into a hug. 

It catches me off guard, but I return it, laughing. 

"You're still a hugger," I tease, and he just grins, shrugging like he couldn't care less.

It's strange but comforting, how easily we fall into a rhythm, like no time has passed. 

Over the years, I'd wondered about him, how he was growing up, and if he was okay. 

I knew Camille had sacrificed so much for him, giving up parts of her own life to make sure he had a better one. 

Seeing him now, it's clear he's become someone she can be proud of.

We settle at a table, and the conversation flows easily.

Hugo talks about his studies, his hobbies, and teases me about my questionable cooking skills—a memory from when I used to visit their family home in the summers. 

I glance at Camille, sitting across from us, her expression softer than I've seen in weeks. 

She's watching Hugo with a mix of pride and love, and it hits me how much she's been through to get here.

Her sacrifices weren't just for herself—they were for him. 

I think about the years she spent juggling karting and taking care of him after her mother passed, and the way she still checks in on him constantly, even while carrying the weight of an F1 career. 

Camille never talks about it much, but I know it hasn't been easy.

It makes me feel... responsible, in a way I can't quite explain. 

Not just for her, but for this—her family, her happiness, the little moments that make up her world.

At one point, Hugo leans back in his chair, looking between the two of us with a smirk that reminds me too much of Camille when she's being mischievous. 

"So," he says, dragging the word out. "You two back together, or are we still pretending this is casual?"

Camille groans, burying her face in her hands. "Hugo, seriously?"

I can't help but laugh. "Still nosy, I see," I reply, but there's no malice in it.

"I'm just saying," he continues, unbothered by Camille's glare. 

"You two were like the worst-kept secret back then. Everyone knew. Don't make it weird now."

There's an ease in his teasing, a casual acceptance that settles something in my chest. 

It's not that I needed Hugo's approval, but knowing he's okay with this—okay with me—makes it all feel a little less daunting.

Later, as we walk Hugo to his car, he pulls me aside while Camille's distracted on her phone. "Look," he says, his tone more serious now. 

"She's been through a lot, Charles. I don't need to tell you that. Just... don't screw this up, okay?"

The words hit harder than I expected, but I nodded, meeting his gaze. 

"I won't," I promise, and I mean it.

As he drives off, I turn to Camille, who's watching me with an amused smile. 

"What did he say to you?" she asks, though she probably already has a guess.

"Just brotherly advice," I reply, slipping an arm around her shoulders as we head back to the car.

She rolls her eyes but leans into me, and in that moment, with the noise of the world fading into the background, I feel the weight of what I have with her. 

This isn't just about us—it's about the people we care about, the life we're building together, piece by piece.

And I'll do whatever it takes to make sure it's something worth fighting for.

 ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

Watching Charles and Hugo together again, I can't help but feel a wave of nostalgia wash over me. 

It's like stepping back in time to those days before everything got complicated. 

Before I became the first female F1 driver, before the heartbreak, the scrutiny, and the distance. 

It was just us—me, Charles, and Hugo—enjoying the simple things: family dinners, racing dreams, and lazy summer afternoons. 

The world was smaller then, and I didn't feel the weight of the world pressing down on me the way I do now.

Hugo's laughter rings in the air, and Charles matches it, grinning and teasing him the way he always used to. 

It's easy to forget, sometimes, that the boy who left me behind all those years ago is standing right here, laughing with my brother like they've never been apart. 

There's something so familiar in the way they interact, something so effortlessly right. 

Charles doesn't hesitate to slip back into that role, to be a part of this world again. 

He's not just showing up; he's present, and it hits me in a way I didn't expect.

I can see it—Charles has changed. 

He's no longer the boy who made decisions without thinking of the consequences, the one who walked away from me when I needed him most. 

The man standing in front of me is someone who's grown, someone who's willing to put in the effort, to rebuild what we had—even if it means showing up for Hugo, for my family, in ways he never did before.

It's not just the grand gestures that speak volumes. 

It's the quiet moments, like this one. 

Watching him interact with Hugo, listening to him joke and smile, I feel something stir deep inside me. 

It's the kind of tenderness I didn't realize I needed, the kind of connection I didn't know was still there.

And I can't help but wonder if, maybe, just maybe, we've both changed enough to make this work.

I've always valued family above everything else. 

It's been my constant, my anchor in the storm. 

But seeing Charles care about mine, seeing him try, makes me realize just how much he's evolved. 

The distance between us—the years of silence and regret—it feels like it's starting to shrink. 

He's not the same person who left me. 

That boy is gone. 

The man standing beside me is someone who wants to be here, who wants to be part of my life again.

I didn't expect to feel so safe with him, so cared for, in this small moment of normalcy. 

But I do. 

And it makes me question everything I thought I knew about the future, about what's possible between us.

For the first time in a long while, I allow myself to hope that maybe we can build something new, something better than what we had before.