Pole Position: Between Logic and Passion

The F1 season was officially over. Another year wrapped, another championship sealed. And just like that, the paddock went quiet. Everyone scattered into vacations, mountains, beaches, penthouses in Dubai. I didn't feel like going anywhere.

It had been a month and a half since I last saw Charles. Since that night at Kate's place. Since that hug. Since the French words I never dared ask him to translate.

Not a message. Not a call. Nothing.

And I hadn't reached out either. Not because I didn't want to - but because I was terrified of what I'd hear if I did.

I told myself I needed the space. That I was focusing on choosing what came next, rebuilding my life. But the truth was simpler and far more pathetic: I missed him.

I spent the first week of the break in a quiet little coastal town near Cinque Terre. Alone. I told everyone I needed the solitude to write, to read, to reflect. Truth was, I just didn't want to see anyone who might look at me with pity in their eyes.

Kate had invited me to join her and a few friends in Switzerland. Arthur texted twice asking if I'd be in Monaco for New Year's. I ignored both invitations.

My days blurred together-morning walks, long coffees, pages half-written in a notebook I never intended to show anyone. I watched the sea from my window, wondering how something so vast could feel so... empty.

----

It happened in the most unexpected way.

I had just arrived in Florence, planning to spend a couple of days exploring art galleries. I walked into a small exhibit at Palazzo Strozzi. It was quiet, dimly lit, the kind of place that makes you feel like you're inside someone's heartbeat. I moved slowly from one painting to the next, letting the silence wrap around me like armor.

And then I heard it - that unmistakable voice. Low. Familiar. Laughing softly.

He was across the room. Standing next to one of the sculptures. Talking to someone I didn't recognize.

My heart betrayed me first - a painful stutter in my chest - then my body followed. I froze, rooted to the spot, pulse pounding in my ears. He hadn't seen me yet. Maybe I could just slip away, disappear before he noticed-

But then his gaze lifted.

And our eyes met.

It was like the world paused. Like all the time that had passed since that night at Kate's house folded into a single, fragile second.

His smile faded.

He said something quickly to the person next to him, and then he started walking toward me.

I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

When he reached me, the space between us felt impossibly wide and painfully close at the same time.

"Hey," he said, his voice a little softer than usual, as if he wasn't entirely sure what to say. "I didn't expect to see you here."

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "Neither did I," I managed, my voice sounding more distant than I intended. I glanced around the exhibit, anything to avoid meeting his gaze too directly. "What are you doing here?"

He shifted his weight slightly, looking at me with that familiar mix of uncertainty and determination. "Came to support an art exhibition of a friend," he said simply, his tone casual.

I tried to mask it with a light laugh, hoping it didn't sound as forced as it felt. "Small world."

"Okay," I said, keeping my voice steady, though it felt hollow. "I should probably go."