SEVEN MINUTES || L. NORRIS

TWO

"It doesn't seem that long but my whole world has changed"

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LANDO

Maybe if I could turn around and drive back to her apartment, everything would be different. Rewinding time was absolutely impossible, but if I could do it, I would. I would go back to where I was seven minutes ago, standing before her in her apartment, and I would hold her. I would fall at her feet crying and yelling, apologising for treating her this way. The way she stood before me broke my heart; she looked beautiful, dressed in her black ripped jeans and grey bandeau top, a denim jacket covering her shoulders, with white trainers on her feet. Even with her mascara smudged and her eyeliner dripping down her face as it mixed with her tears, she still was the most gorgeous woman in the world. I was responsible for those tears. If I could go back seven minutes, I would do everything differently.

I would say to her, "Isabelle, I'll stay here with you" - "Isabelle, I'll never leave your side". Words could never express the amount of love I had for her. Isabelle Jade Martin, the woman I wanted to marry. The woman who I wanted to mother my children. The woman who I wanted to grow old with. I was so stupid to put my career before her. I should've known it would lead to this. She was too vulnerable, too stressed to live without me. I saw her at her very worst, when the anxiety would eat away at her in the middle of the night. When she would wake up with tears down her face, her hands shaking and her breathing out of anyone's control, I was the person there to hold her in my arms. She would call me in the middle of the night when she woke up suffering from a panic attack, crying down the phone and asking when I was coming home. Those conversations broke me.

And now, as I sat in my car, navigating myself through the streets, I wished I could go back to her. It was pitch black outside, completely isolated, as the clock slipped closer to one in the morning. I didn't want to go home. I didn't want to be reminded of what I'd done. I just wanted to drive.

Those seven minutes for which we argued played on my mind. I couldn't erase those memories of her crying, begging me to change my mind, screaming because she'd given up on her medication because it made no difference anymore. She yelled because she was so immune to every single coping method she'd tried. I was terrified of losing her. She told me, "Lando, I love you but you're too much for me", then apologised afterwards, saying her words came out wrong. I knew what she meant; she couldn't handle my career anymore. The weeks apart were too much, the drastic change in time zones meant that I would fall asleep as soon as she'd be waking up. We wanted to make it work, we did plenty to ensure it did, but slowly, it started to get a little harder.

"I'm happy for you, Lando," she would repeat every time we spoke. My face would light up whenever she said it. Sometimes, she left it there and said nothing more, but recently, she would finish it with, "but I am falling apart". She simply just wanted me to stay, but we both knew I couldn't give up on my job. Issy didn't want me to do that, she would never make me choose between her or racing. I would choose her, without a doubt, but it was so much harder than that. I had a team, a contract, an important role to play within a larger family. Issy knew I would spend most of my year in a different country. I told her, I warned her and made sure she knew how hard it would become. But she was up for it - that girl was always up for anything. My girl could do anything.

I thought about her, wondering what she would be doing right now. She wouldn't be sleeping. She would be sat, in one of my oversized shirts, sitting on the balcony of her apartment. She would be desperate to call her parents, both of whom lived in France for their work, who promised her that she could stay with them whenever she needed. She would've tried her best friend's phone, but Layla was never there for her as much as she'd like to have been. Her brother, Theo, worked up north and lived with his wife and daughter. He rarely visited, even though he wished he could come to see Isabelle every weekend. She had nobody, but me, and I was away most of the time. I felt sorry for dragging her into this, it was never going to be easy, but I thought we would be able to make it work. I pictured her on the balcony, her hair all knotted as it fell by her shoulders, her legs freezing as she sat in the cold air in only a thin shirt.

I wanted to turn back. Fuck the scenic route, I needed to be with my Isabelle. If I turned back now and pulled into the car park in the McLaren, she would know it was me. She recognised the sound of the engine; it was what she listened out for every day, feeling ecstatic when she finally would hear it after waiting for what seemed like forever. It felt like a lifetime, since I'd seen her last. When I stumbled out of her apartment, my cheeks red with fear and rage, she slammed the door in my face, as I held onto the handle. She told me, "it's over, Lando", before pushing me away. I should have argued back, but I loved her too much to raise my voice and scare her. Loud voices startled her, they usually sent her into an overwhelming state of panic, so I always tried to be calm and keep my voice at its normal volume. I wanted to be with her, to make sure she didn't do anything stupid, to protect her frail and fragile body from harm.

I drew closer and closer to my apartment block, glad I'd finally bought myself my own space, but I didn't want to pull up outside. I didn't want to leave my car. That meant going inside, alone, and staring at the ceiling until I waited for her to call. So far, she hadn't. Every possible outcome would circle my mind - "maybe she's taken herself out for a walk", or, "maybe she's already asleep", but the worst one was the last, which seemed to be a little more consistent, more prominent in my mind; "maybe she's hurt herself and is in danger." My hands remained securely on the steering wheel, but the repetitive nature of my final thought caused them to start shaking in fear. My legs turned to jelly as my muscles fell numb, tears streaming down my face once again as I shook my head, pulling up in my usual parking spot.

I leaned forward, slamming onto the wheel of my company car. The horn sounded, scaring the life out of me, but I was too engrossed within the thought of Isabelle to care. I didn't care if I woke everybody in my complex. I hit my fist against the rubber of the wheel a few times, yelling out of complete anger, profanities slipping from between my lips.

I reached for my phone, which was thrown onto the passenger seat, doing my best to make out the screen through my teary eyes. She hadn't called or texted still, sending me into an even larger state of panic, but I still unlocked my device and navigated my way to our conversations.

"I'll be over in half an hour. Can't wait to see your beautiful face x" was the last message I sent her, with her replying seconds after I pressed the button; "Drive safe. I love you x'. I didn't see her reply until I arrived on her doorstep, rushing to the lifts to take me to the third floor. I was so excited to see her; I'd been training non stop for the past few days and I finally had some time off work - I promised to treat her and take her out for dinner, which is exactly what I did when I pulled up outside of her apartment. We ate out at our favourite Italian restaurant, ordering our favourite dishes, before planning to come home to simply cuddle all night. I was so excited to get into bed and hold her to my chest, to feel our skin pressed so close together as she ran her fingers through my hair. But I was so stupid to mention how I would be training again in a few days, to prepare for the next race. It sent her over the edge; she cried, she screamed, she told me she couldn't deal with it. She told me it was breaking her heart, she was losing sleep because I wasn't there to hold her at night. It destroyed me, because this was all my fault.

Everything that happened in those seven minutes, was down to me. Nobody was to blame but myself, how could I ever be so stupid? My life would be so different now, because I wouldn't have my Isabelle to come home to, because I'd fucked up and abandoned her. I allowed her to feel as anxious as she always did, because I never showed how much I cared about her. I thought she knew, because I tried to show her at every given opportunity.

I frowned, finally realising that I needed to take myself inside. I needed to get some rest. Maybe I would wake up in the morning and all of this would be over, maybe I was just trapped in a nightmare and I didn't know how to wake myself from it. I hoped and I prayed, because Isabelle was the girl of my dreams and what was the point without her? There was no meaning in my life, if it was a life without Isabelle Jade Martin.

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