Until my Last Breath

29

August 2022
Zandvoort Circuit, Netherlands.

The Dutch Grand Prix week has barely begun, but the tension is already unbearable. My glasses sit low on my nose as I weave through the paddock, head down, trying to avoid the swarm of journalists and fans. The chaos is always overwhelming, but this time, it feels heavier, like every lens and microphone is pointed right at me.

I know what they want. Everyone does. They want a headline, a reaction, a word from me about Darwin. But I've stayed silent, and my silence hangs in the air like a storm cloud, thick and suffocating.

Reaching the prema garage, I step inside, relieved to leave the chaos behind. It doesn't last long. The moment I enter, I feel the weight of their stares. My team, my engineers-everyone looks at me differently now. They don't say anything afraid they might "trigger " me, but the unspoken question lingers:
Why haven't you said anything?

The strategy meeting drags on, filled with numbers and projections I can barely focus on. The tension presses down on me like a vice, and by the time it's over, I'm desperate to escape. I walk quickly to my driver's room, shutting the door behind me with a sigh of relief.

Finally alone, I let my body sag toward the couch-but a knock at the door stops me mid-step.

"Who is it?" I call, my voice sharper than I intended.

"Bonjour, B," a familiar voice answers, followed by another cheerful, "It's us!"

I open the door to see Kika and Alex grinning at me, their arms already open for a hug.

A smile breaks across my face-a real one this time-and I don't hesitate to pull them both into a tight embrace. "Thank God you're here," I breathe, my voice muffled against their shoulders. Their hands rub my back reassuringly, and for the first time all day, I feel a flicker of comfort.

"Charles has been asking about you, Ree," Alex whispers into my ear, and I nod slightly, already knowing I need to find him.

"Let's go," I say, stepping back and wiping at my eyes.

The Ferrari garage is buzzing with activity when I arrive, mechanics and engineers swarming around the car. My eyes scan the room until they land on Charles, standing with the team over a monitor, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Before I can call out, he looks up and sees me. His face lights up with relief, and he closes the distance between us in seconds, wrapping me in a tight hug.

"Don't do this to me again, Bianchi," he murmurs into my hair, holding me like he hasn't seen me in years.

"I'm sorry," I whisper back, my voice trembling.

We stay like that for a moment before I pull back, meeting his concerned gaze. "We need to talk, Charles," I say, my voice shaky.

He frowns immediately, sensing the fear in my tone. "Of course. What's wrong?"

I glance around the garage, scanning for cameras or onlookers. "Not here," I say quickly. "Not now. It's serious."

His expression hardens, and he nods. "Okay. Tonight. We'll have dinner and-"

"It has to be private," I interrupt, my voice urgent.

"Okay, d'accord," he says, his tone softening as he rubs my arm gently. "We'll stay in the hotel then. Just us."

I nod, feeling a little steadier now. "I have practice. I need to go."

He lets me go reluctantly, watching as I head back to my garage.