La Rosa Gialla

Chapter 53

Ok, so...I'm very sorry about this chapter and there's a TW for the last two paragraphs, so if you are sensitive about the topic just...idk...skip it. You'll know when. 
-B. 

December 2024

On December 6th, at half past two in the afternoon, the last first free practice of the season began, and everyone's faces showed great fatigue and even greater anticipation. Ferrari had finally reached the top spot in the Constructors' Championship and were just one step away from their driver becoming world champion. Charles' shoulders were so tight all week that I was afraid they would snap. My still ongoing nausea didn't help at all.

"That's the way," Joris clapped his hands when Charles won the first and second practice. In addition, Carlos also did very well and finished second and third. It was a great promise for the last race, and we went to bed in the evening in a much better mood than when we got up in the morning. "How are you today?" Charles asked in the evening as I buried my face in his shoulder and wrapped an arm around his waist. "It's fine. How are you?" I asked in return and heard him chuckle. "It's fine," he repeated, pressing a kiss to my hair. "Are you more nervous or looking forward to tomorrow?" I wanted to know concerning the upcoming qualifying. "A little bit of both. I'm trying not to let the pressure get to me," he grumbled, and I lifted myself up to look at him questioningly. As I mentioned before, he was nervous like crazy, I could tell very easily. I could read him like a book, whether he liked it or not. And it was the same the other way around. "Alright then. I'm nervous and I want to get it over with," he smirked, and I smiled reassuringly at him.

On Saturday morning, instead of the usual nausea, I felt a strange pressure in my stomach, but I didn't think much of it, thinking it was more the nerves. Charles finished fourth in the last practice, but he didn't seem to make a big deal out of it and told me that this time it wasn't about setting the best time. Until the evening, he looked brave and I tried to encourage him with my eyes and words, even though I suspected that he was already closed in his bubble and almost did not notice anything that was happening around him. At 6 p.m., the green light came on in the pit lane and qualifying could begin.

I stood next to Joris, who held me by the shoulders and dug his fingers into my deltoid muscle. I tried not to notice the pain, but in a way, it actually calmed me down that there was someone next to me who was as nervous as I was. Both Charles and Carlos easily advanced to Q2, where they set the two fastest times. The third part of qualifying was much more dramatic, but in the end, Charles managed to take pole position. I felt a huge relief and Joris' grip on my arm finally loosened. Charles will start from the pole, avoiding the chaos in the first corner that could lead to a collision. The entire team burst into a frenzy again and everyone was looking forward to the culmination of a dream season.

We went to bed quite late in the evening and I was still bothered by a strange strain in my stomach. I kept reassuring myself that I would be fine by this time tomorrow. I will have a world champion by my side, and everything will be exactly as it should be. But at 4 a.m. I woke up due to unbearable pain. I whimpered and tried to sit up on the bed, only to find that a dark wet stain was left on the sheet. I moaned and put my hand on my stomach, which meanwhile had another sharp spasm. Charles tossed and turned in bed, sleepily trying to find my body with his hand. When I whimpered again, he sat up abruptly and turned on the lamp. "Adri, what's going on?" he whispered in a shaky voice, his gaze falling to the dirty sheet. "I'll call an ambulance," he blurted out and grabbed the phone. "Wait, that's going to be..." I started but was interrupted by another sharp pain. I felt a hot tear run down my face followed by another and another. I knew what was going on. And I also knew that it couldn't have come on a worse day.

At the hospital, they confirmed my fears. There was a spontaneous abortion at 7 weeks. To tell the truth, I didn't listen to the doctor anymore. She spoke to me for a long time, explaining the next procedure and reassuring us both that it just happens sometimes and that the embryo most likely had a serious genetic defect that prevented further growth and development. I cried for several hours, the sun had long risen over Abu Dhabi and Charles was still sitting next to me, holding my hand tightly and refusing to leave my side even for a minute. Because of the severe pain and bleeding, they wanted to keep me in the hospital at least until the evening to make sure that the abortion went as it should. Terrible wording, I know. "You should go. The race is in a few hours," I whispered, and he shook his head. "Charlie, please." He squeezed my hand and looked directly into my eyes, his were also glistening with tears. "How can you take it so calmly?" he asked with a slightly reproachful tone and this time I shook my head. "We're not going to blame ourselves at this point, are we? Now you have to win the race. That's the priority now..." "No, you're the priority." "Charlie..." I sighed. "You can't do anything here. It's already happened. Please go win the race, make this day not so horrible." He looked at me again, swallowed hard, then nodded cautiously. He leaned in to give me a tight hug and a long, tender kiss. "I'll try to talk them into letting me go early so I can be there with you. Don't worry about me, we'll make it through this together," I whispered in his ear and felt one of his tears fall on my cheek.