Until my Last Breath

72

Barcelona, Spain

The phone buzzes against the edge of the bench just as Gavi starts making a joke about needing physiotherapy. I glance down, and Arthur's name flashes on the screen.

My chest tightens instinctively.

I mumble something to Gavi about taking it outside and slip out the back door into the soft Barcelona morning. The air is warm, laced with the scent of pine from the nearby hills, but it does nothing to calm the static buzzing under my skin.

I press the phone to my ear. "Hey."

"Hi," Arthur says. His voice is quiet. Careful.

A pause stretches between us. The silence says more than any words could. It's heavy, hesitant. Like neither of us wants to be the one to bring it up-but we both know exactly why he's calling.

"I'm not getting in the middle," he starts. "But I have to try. You two aren't speaking. It's-it's ruining everything."

I shut my eyes. Not this again.

"Arthur-"

"I know. I know you don't want to talk about it. But you and Charles... you've always had your own orbit, Rita. I've seen it since we were kids. It's more than just a friendship or some team thing. It's Jules. It's your whole life. And now it's like this wall just dropped between you and I'm the one caught underneath it."

The words sting because they're true. Arthur isn't the type to guilt-trip. He's gentle. Loyal. And I know he's hurting too.

But still-I can't give him what he wants.

"This is between me and Charles," I say carefully. "Not you. Not your mom. Not our friends. Us. And I need it to stay that way, Arthur."

"But how?" His voice rises a little, frustration cracking through. "What about family dinners? Birthdays? The holidays? You think we can all just sit around pretending nothing happened? That you and Charles aren't pointedly avoiding eye contact across the table?"

I exhale, jaw tight. "If that's how it has to be for now, then yeah. I'll show up less. Sit out on a few holidays. Celebrate things on my own until we figure this out. I don't need someone to pat me on the back after a race to survive."

He falls silent.

I keep going, gentler this time. "I love you, Arch. You know that. But this thing between me and Charles-he used Jules against me. He made me feel like chasing the one shot I got was betrayal. That's not something I can just swallow and smile through over roast chicken."

Arthur lets out a soft, bitter laugh. "You both have the same damn stubbornness. It's like watching two trains run in opposite directions and pretending you'll meet again on the same track."

I lean against the railing of the terrace. "Maybe we will. I hope we do. But forcing it now... it'll just make everything worse."

Another long pause. Then he says, quieter, "Maman's not going to like this."

I swallow. "I know. But this wasn't my decision. I didn't ask it. I just... I had to stand up for myself. I'm sorry."

Arthur sighs, and it breaks my heart a little more. "I hate being in the middle."

"I know," I whisper. "I wish you weren't."

We don't say goodbye. We just let the silence fade out.

And when I go back inside, I don't mention a word of it to Gavi.

Because some battles don't need more eyes.

They just need time.

Spanish Grand prix
-
The hum of the paddock fades behind the walls. For a moment, everything is still.