Double Sided Tracks

Stitches

"Did I lose the baby?" She asked.

Lewis stared at her, heart in his stomach. It dawned on him all over again that she is carrying their baby, and they're both not well. That there is a chance they'll lose the baby.

"No, sweetheart. You will be fine," he whispered. Because that's all he could say. Her eyes were unfocused, then she dozed off. He saw Angela left the room and all of a sudden all the anger went back.

How dare Angela? How dare she? How dare Nora? How fucking dare God?

"She was okay," Angela started, when he spotted Lewis following her outside the room. "There was no sign of early labor."

Lewis sighed harshly, "how long have you known?" he asked. Then scoffed when she looked at him guiltily, "unbelievable."

Angela looked at him, "are you fucking serious? Your wife is 22 weeks pregnant and you've only noticed when she was bleeding on you."

"How was I supposed to notice–"

"Yes! That's the problem, you were too busy chasing a championship!"

Lewis clamped his mouth shut, what– "what the fuck is that supposed to mean?" He whispered/shouted angrily. They were in a hospital afterall.

Angela scoffed, looked at him angrily. "Exactly what I said; you. were. too. busy." Angela said, putting emphasis on every word. "Come on, Lewis." She said, sounding exhausted. "Don't you know what Ferrari has put her through?" she asked.

And– "what?" He looked at her expectantly. "No, Angela, what does that mean?"

"Are you serious? Are you that dense of your wife's well being? That you didn't notice she's unhappy with the way your team treated her?"

Lewis opened his mouth then closed it, letting Angela continue. Because.. Well, because maybe he realized he hasn't been paying attention. When was the last time he sees Nora looking like she's having the best time of her life? When Isa was a newborn? Which means before he joined Ferrari.

"Don't you notice she's unwell? That she lost weight? Or how all she does is go to your races and stay inside like a hermit crab while you're off to Maranello for  sim time?"

Lewis shook his head, "what do you want me to do? This is Ferrari and–" before he could finish his sentence, Angela's forearm was on his chest, pushing him back to the wall.

"She didn't marry a Ferrari driver, she married a man who promised to put everything behind before they built a family," Angela said, "you're a fucking husband and father, Hamilton. Act like it." she added.

They stayed silent until Angela sat herself down in one of the benches, and he did the same.

"Ferrari is killing her, she needs you to be on her side. She needs you to speak up for her. Everything is too late now, you might lose them both." she said, shakily.

Lewis knows that.

"You are my boss Hammy, but I'd rather live off of my savings than see my best friend die." Angela said, face scrunching down and she let out a little sob. Then he finally broke down too because– fuck. He might lose her.

The next morning they decided they will go through with the procedure of cervical cerclage– or the stitching of her cervix. She's propped on the bed, "eyes on me, sweetheart." He whispered when she tried to look down. She's on a local anesthesia, which means she is awake and though feel no pain, she can feel them probing her.

They haven't talked about any of it, Lewis hasn't started. Too scared he'll put stress on her. Though he wonders if she's waiting for him to start the conversation.