❝They hate each other.❞
❝No, they don't. Not really.❞
In the high-stakes world of Formula 1 racing, Aurora Prince faces her toughest challenge yet as she makes her debut with Porsche during the 2025 season. Haunted by grief and fueled by determinati...
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CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX;
This Is How You Fall In Love
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Aurora found herself standing on the sidelines of the Spa-Francorchamps circuit, the sky ominously dark and heavy with storm clouds. The air was thick with the smell of burnt rubber and gasoline, mingling with the distant rumble of thunder. She could hear the roar of engines, the screech of tires against asphalt. A sense of dread gripped her heart, squeezing it with an icy hand.
Her eyes scanned the track, and she saw the familiar flash of Ezra's car approaching Eau Rouge. Her breath hitched, a premonition of terror tightening her chest. Somehow, from her place at the side of the track, she could hear the frantic voices over the radio, the urgent pleas for Ezra to box, to slow down.
But he didn't listen.
He never listened.
"No, no, no," she whispered, her voice swallowed by the noise around her. She wanted to scream, to make him hear her. But she was powerless, a silent spectator to the unfolding tragedy.
Ezra's car approached the corner too fast, the rear tires losing grip. As Aurora watched on helplessly, it was as if fate was laughing at her, making her relive the worst time of her life. The rear of the car spun more, and she could practically feel how tense Ezra was, trying to fight the wheel back into position.
The car spun wildly, slamming into the barriers with a sickening crunch of metal. Flames erupted from the wreckage, and Aurora's world narrowed to that single point of catastrophe.
"Ezra!" she screamed, her voice breaking with desperation as she ran toward the burning car. The heat was unbearable, the flames licking at her skin as she tried to reach him, to pull him out. She could see the medics and stewards around her, all rushing to aid him. She could hear the deadly silence that had fallen across the crowd.
She could feel death approaching.
"You don't get to leave me," she whispered, throwing her hands into the wreckage. "You don't get to leave me again."
But as she got closer, the face behind the shattered visor was not Ezra's.
It was Charles.
Aurora's scream echoed through the track, raw and guttural. "Charles, no!" She tugged at the burning body, her fingers burning from the heat. "Please, please, no!"
Charles' eyes, usually so full of life, were vacant, staring up at her as the flames closed in. She could see the ghost of a smile, a haunting echo of his presence.
