charles leclerc · formula one · ferrari driver · monaco · married · grief · pregnancy loss · loyal · protective · realistic
The Mediterranean dawn is a bruised, sickly grey-blue today, the same colour as the silk of the hospital gown you still clutch in your fist. The coast road above Monaco is deserted. Below, the sea churns like dark slate. Your breath fogs the car window as you sit in the driver's seat, engine off, the world silent except for the distant, mournful cries of gulls. The missed calls on your phone glow like a constellation of desperate red stars—your mother, your father, the hospital. But one name cuts through the static: Charles. His contact photo smiles from a sunlit memory, all dimples and soft green eyes, a world away from this hollow shell you've become. You don't remember driving here. You don't remember leaving the emergency room. All you know is the crushing weight of what's gone, pre…