Chapter 14

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(Happens after chapter 6)

Ferrari. The most emblematic brand of cars on this planet. The most respected and well-known team in the automotive world. Anyone who has the opportunity to drive a red single-seater with the prancing horse on it, would take it without delay. This opportunity was given to Carlos Sainz, second of the name. It was his first year with this team, alongside Charles Leclerc, a very good friend of his. Teammate, having a reciprocal unconditional love for Ferrari. All the tifosi, especially the Italians, considered him Italian, even though he was from Monaco. Carlos felt that Ferrari and the tifosi did not love him as much as they loved Charles. He knew it, he was perfectly aware of it.

They would never love him as much.

He would always be the ugly duckling of this stable.

The one who couldn't be successful.

His thoughts raced through his head as he closed his suitcase to leave for his team's native land, Italy. The Grand Prix of Monza, where the Monegasque won two years earlier, his second victory. The Spaniard felt during all the grand-prixes that the fans preferred Charles to him, was afraid that this week would be even worse. Italy, his teammate's second country, was the same feeling as a home grand prix: not to disappoint his fans, to succeed in front of his country, in front of the fans of his team...

Carlos rushed to reopen his suitcase and put his medication against anxiety, which sometimes seized him and would not let go until his pills were taken. Ready, he left for the airport. He smiled, when he arrived in the parking lot, he saw that Aria's car was in its place. He had left it to her, he had done it on purpose.

----

The pilot left his cab in front of his hotel, where a crowd of tifosi was already there. This vision disturbed him and frightened him a little bit. How had all these fans found the address of his hotel? Unconsciously, he could not help thinking that none of these fans present here, having surely waited several hours for some of them, was there for him. That each person, gathered in front of his hotel was there for Charles, and not for him.

The Spaniard took a few pictures with fans, who had to take advantage of his presence to have a picture while waiting to have one with the Monegasque, before returning to his hotel, to prepare for the meetings that awaited him today. Meetings on the engine and parts of his car, which bored each participant. Especially the drivers, who although they were interested in their cars, there were some things they could not understand if they had not had training on this subject.

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After all these daily obligations, Carlos locked himself up in his room and let all his feelings come out. He released the stress of not performing as well as the Monegasque during the race, of disappointing the tifosi, his fans, but most of all of disappointing his dad. His father, a well-known rally driver in their native country, was a crazy pressure. Everyone who knew the father and the son Sainz, expected the son to do as well or better than his father. What annoyed the driver was that he was always compared to his father or his teammates and never recognized for his performance, his talent. Sometimes he even thought that he didn't deserve his place in Formula One, and that if he was in the premier class it was only because of his name. He was, of course, less well known than the name Schumacher, but the name Sainz was not unknown to the automotive world.

With trembling hands, shortness of breath, unable to speak, the dark-haired man huddled against the door of his hotel room, tried to get up to get his pills, but found himself paralyzed. There was only one solution, to wait for his crisis to pass. And that the news would appear in a short time. Anxiety was a never-ending circle. Once it sets in, it never goes away. It is possible that it calms down, and is less present for a while. But its return is inevitable. It comes back secretly, discreetly, without us realizing it, and suddenly, it knocks us out. In a fraction of a second, the tranquility, and the calm, installed without her disappear, and leave place to the fear, a constant apprehension, without respite.

To be afraid of not having closed the door of one's home properly, and of being robbed.

Fear of having said something wrong during the day and rehashing each conversation to be sure that what was said was correct.

Fear of having eaten too much, not enough.

Fear of disappointing. Of failing.

Fear of never finding happiness.

Carlos Sainz was afraid, constantly. He didn't spend a day without this fear that occupied a major place in his life. He was afraid of losing his life in a crash during a race and regretting not having enjoyed his life enough. He was convinced deep down that if he had not been immersed in motorsports since birth, he might have enjoyed his life more. Maybe he would be about to get married, have children.

Nonsense.

He had none of that.

He didn't have a partner.

He wasn't about to get married.

He wasn't about to have children.

Carlos was sure he would spend the rest of his life alone with a dog or two and maybe even a cat. Yet he dreamed of starting a family, having children and marrying the woman he loved.

Utopias.

That's what it was. His dreams were utopian. Something that would never come true. He was aware of that. He kept hoping it would happen one day, but he had to be realistic about the situation, he would end up alone.

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The second race on the Italian track saw Daniel Ricciardo take the top step of the podium, followed by his teammate, Lando Norris, and Valterri Bottas on the last step. The Spaniard finished in sixth place, two positions behind his teammate. He was right, his teammate had passed him in front, in front of all those tifosi.

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Taking advantage of the week's break between the Italian and Russian Grand Prix, Carlos took the opportunity to go home for the week. He took the plane that evening, at a rather late hour, having to attend some obligations after the race. He arrived in front of his building around midnight. He was tired and wanted to take a shower and sleep. But, when he arrived at his front door, he saw a door that he knew only too well, open and see Aria, embracing someone. But it was not an ordinary someone, it was a man, who seemed barely younger than her.

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