Christmas with the Leclerc's

19

~The truth~
December 19

"Oh Carolina..." My mother says, wrapping her arms around me. We're sitting in the living room, curled up in blankets as I tell my mother everything.

From how much I miss my father, to the fact I've hopelessly fallen in love with a cheater, I tell her every little detail.

Growing up as an only child, she's always been like an sister to me, and especially after my father passed we've just grown even closer.

She gently wipes away my streaming tears, comforting me on the couch. The Christmas tree, decorated with ornaments I made as kid, lights the dark room up. I cried all the way to Brazil in the plane, and yet the tears just keep coming.

"Honey you deserve better than someone like him. Yes, he might have fame, all the money in the world and a wonderful son, but the most important part is what's in here" She assures me, tapping her hand gently at her chest, right where the heart sits. But I can't even agree with her. Charles was amazing, from the bottom of his heart.

For him to be a cheater... It feels so wrong.

I sniffle, moving even closer to my mother. Her signature smell washes over me, making me feel safe. At least I don't have to deal with homesickness anymore.

"We can put on Love actually, and I'll make hot chocolate" My mother suggests, giving me a soft kiss on the forehead. But the idea brings me anything but comfort.

The tears begin to uncontrollably run down my cheeks again, as I remember the night on the plane, where me and Charles watched Love actually together...

My mother looks at me with sympathy, moving a strand of hair out of my face, before she stands up to make hot chocolate in the kitchen.

When she's gone, I lean back in the sofa, hiding my face in my hands. I'm so pathetic. How could I ever believe that I could actually have a relationship with a f1 driver.

I'm so stupid.

Ding. A ring at the doorbell startles me. "Carolina could you get that, I ordered some Christmas gifts!" My mother shouts from the kitchen. With a bit of struggle I get up from the couch, walking out to our front door.

It's a short walk, in our tiny house, and I quickly get to the front door. I wipe away my tears, in case the mail man is still out there, and pull open the heavy door.

At first it looks empty outside, no package or anything, but then my gaze falls on the door mat where a small envelope lays.

Confused I bend down to pick up the letter. On the front is my name written in a messy handwriting. Furrowing my brows, I take the envelope and step inside again.

I manage to close the door, before I rip open the envelope curiosity taking over me. No one ever sends me letters.

Inside the envelope, is a long letter, written in the same wobbly handwriting as the one on the outside of the envelope.

The bottom of the letter catches my eye, love Arthur. It's a letter from... Arthur? My eyes quickly go to the top of the letter again, and before I know it I'm reading it.