ℂ𝕆𝕃𝕃𝕀𝔻𝔼 // ℂℍ𝔸ℝ𝕃𝔼𝕊 𝕃𝔼ℂ𝕃𝔼ℝℂ

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓸𝓾𝓽

Charles Leclerc

The news of our divorce spread fast, and it felt like the ground beneath me was slipping away. It wasn't just our private life anymore—it became public, open for everyone to judge. Everywhere I turned, there were headlines screaming about "F1's Power Couple Splitting," and all kinds of wild stories followed. Some speculated I was unfaithful; others claimed Athena couldn't handle my success. Every rumor felt like a knife, twisting deeper into an already open wound.

I couldn't even leave the hotel without the paparazzi waiting for me. They crowded around, cameras flashing, and threw question after question my way. "Why are you divorcing Athena?" "Is there someone else?" "How will this affect your racing?" Their voices, loud and relentless, made it hard to think straight.

All I wanted to do was race—to clear my head, to lose myself in the speed, in the rush of competition. But even that wasn't working anymore. My focus was gone, replaced by the chaos in my mind. I was slower in practice, missing marks that used to be instinct. I saw it in the team's faces—the disappointment, the concern. They were wondering what happened to their driver, the man who was once so sharp, so determined.

Each race felt harder. The pressure from the media wasn't helping. Reporters wanted answers about my personal life, not just my performance. How could I focus on winning a World Championship when my life was falling apart? Everything felt wrong. I was losing control, and the fear of failing both on and off the track was overwhelming. I needed to fix this, but I didn't know how.

I missed Athena. I missed the way she used to look at me with pride in her eyes, like I was her hero. But now... now it felt like I was the villain in her story. Every day without her felt heavier, like a weight pressing down on me, making it harder to breathe. The only time I felt lighter was when I thought of Aylin—our daughter, our little miracle. She was the only good thing left from what we had.

But even that joy was clouded by the pain of our separation.

Athena Schumacher

When the news of our divorce got out, it was like the whole world started looking at me differently. I couldn't go anywhere without feeling like people were whispering about me. I'd take Aylin out for a walk in her stroller, and I could feel the stares. Even if they didn't say anything, I knew what they were thinking. "That's Athena Leclerc... the one who's breaking up with Charles." It felt like everyone was judging me, assuming they knew what was happening in our marriage.

I stopped going to the park. I stopped going anywhere, really. It was easier to just stay home, even though the house felt empty. I had Aylin, and I was grateful for her, but it wasn't the same. Every corner of the house reminded me of Charles—of the life we had, of the life we were supposed to have.

The silence was unbearable. The only sound that kept me grounded was Aylin's laughter. Her giggles, her tiny voice calling for me, they were the only things that gave me any sense of purpose. But even her laughter was bittersweet because it reminded me of what I was losing—her father, our family. I didn't know how to stop it from slipping through my fingers.

Kelly tried to be there for me. She would visit, trying to cheer me up, trying to get me to talk. But every time she came over, I just felt more pressure. I knew she was worried, but I couldn't handle it. I wasn't ready to explain how broken I felt inside. I couldn't even answer Max's calls or texts. He tried to reach out, but I ignored him too. I didn't have the strength to face anyone, not even my closest friends.

The hardest part was knowing that this was all my doing. I had filed for the divorce, convinced that it was the right thing, that it was the only way to stop the pain. But now... now I wasn't sure. Every day felt like a battle with myself, and I was losing. I was slipping further into this dark hole, and I didn't know how to get out. The sadness from the miscarriage still haunted me, a wound that never fully healed, and it was eating away at me.

I couldn't talk to Charles about it. Not anymore. He was already so far away, both emotionally and physically. Racing had taken him away from me long before this, but I still missed him. I missed the way he used to hold me after a long day, the way he made me feel safe. Now, everything felt unsafe, unstable.

Aylin's bright eyes would look up at me with so much love, and I would smile at her, trying to hold it together for her sake. But inside, I was crumbling. I wanted to be strong for her, but how could I be when I felt so weak? The weight of our divorce was crushing me, and I was drowning in my own guilt and sadness.

Charles came back later that evening. I heard the familiar sound of his car pulling into the driveway, and my heart clenched. It was strange, after everything that happened, I still felt that pull toward him. I still wanted him to walk through the door and hold me, to tell me everything was going to be okay. But I knew better. Things weren't going to be okay.

He didn't say anything when he entered the house. He just went straight to our bedroom, his face hard, his eyes empty. I stood in the hallway, watching him pack his things. It was surreal, watching the man I had built a life with, pack up like we were strangers.

"Charles," I whispered, but he didn't stop. He didn't even look at me.

I wanted to beg him to stay, to tell him that I was sorry, that I didn't want this. But the words wouldn't come. I was too afraid, too broken. And so, I just watched as he zipped up his suitcase and left without another word.

The door clicked shut behind him, and the silence in the house was louder than ever.