Forever and always

Chapter twenty-five

Olivia's pov:
August 2021

"Are you sure you can do this? I don't want you overexerting yourself" Charles said as he gently zipped up one of our suitcases. His voice carried that familiar edge of worry, soft but firm, eyes flickering toward me with concern. It was Wednesday morning, and we were getting ready to fly to Belgium for the Grand Prix.

"I can do this" I insisted, filing a sweater before tucking it into my suitcase. "It's been two weeks since the surgery, and the doctor said I could start easing back into normal activities. I'm not going to miss Spa" I gave him my most determined look.

He sighed, a little smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Alright. But I'm keeping an eye on you the entire time. Your wound still needs care, and you might feel dizzy or nauseous—doctors orders"

"Fine, but I promise I'm okay" I said and wrapped my arms around him. His body relaxed against mine.

"I know you are. But you're also the most stubborn person I know, so I'm not even going to fight you on it... even though I think you should sit this one out" he murmured, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

We finished packing, then made the short drive from Monaco to Nice airport. I still felt uneasy in the car—every surge or sudden movement pulled at my nerves. But I'd been forcing myself back into passenger seats the last week, trying to face the fear head-on. Avoidance wouldn't heal me. Exposure might.

When we landed in Belgium a few hours later, something inside me softened. I loved this place—Mom's home country, my second childhood home. We drove to the hotel through the light drizzle and tree-lined roads, and when we checked into our room, it felt like a deep exhale. Safe. Still.

We ordered room service for dinner and stayed in. Charles knew I still couldn't handle crowded restaurants or overly stimulating environments, not yet. The peace between us, the quiet comfort, was enough.

The next morning, Charles headed to the track solo for media duties with Carlos, while I stayed behind at the hotel. I curled up on the sofa with Netflix and a blanket, still moving slowly, cautiously. I tried some light stretching—nothing intense, just enough to make my muscles remember they existed. But every time I stretched my abdomen, a deep ache reminded me of the scar that lived beneath my skin.

When Charles returned around lunchtime, he came bearing food. "Got you something I know you'll love" he said, placing the warm bag in front of me.

"You're the sweetest" I smiled, leaning over to kiss his jaw before digging in.

Later, as we sat side by side on the bed scrolling through our phones, Charles nudged me. "Maybe we should post something. About the accident. Just so we're not bombarded tomorrow?"

He was right. I opened instagram, picked a picture from a few weeks back—one where I looked healthy, alive—and started typing.

"What about this?" I asked, showing him.

He read it, then nodded. "It's perfect"

We posted together. The response was instant. Messages poured in, comments flooded our posts, and for the first time since the crash, I felt like I could breathe without bracing for judgement.

My post read:

"First of all, I want to say a huge thank you to everyone. Your kind words have truly been heartwarming.
Yes, the rumours are true. Charles and I were involved in a serious car accident a few weeks ago. I won't lie—I was in a rough shape. But thanks to the best doctors, nurses, and paramedics, I'm recovering well.
Charles is doing fantastic and ready to return to formula one this weekend.
We're okay. We're alive. But for personal and emotional reasons, we won't be answering any questions about what happened.
Thank you again. Lots of love"
- Olivia.
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