Celebrating the podium was one of the funniest, best, most emotional thing I've done lately. It officially entered my Top10 best days of my life. Although all the celebrations, the champagne pouring in crystal luxurious glasses, the cheering of my loved ones, I couldn't stop thinking of Lando.
I know we weren't a couple but I thought that we weren't strangers neither. Maybe there was a space in the middle, a grey-shadow side where whatever kind of relationship we were living could take place in. But maybe I was wrong, wrong about everything.
Finding out from his trainer that he took an early flight, with Max Verstappen's private plane, made me upset, actually it hurted me. But I tried my best to not let him ruin my mood, after all it was my victory, my own revenge, my rise up after all the bad days I had.
Days passed quickly, I came back home the day after with my parents and spent a few days at home with them, sometimes going back and forth to Faenza, for visiting the motorhome, though we didn't exchange nor a text, nor a meme on Instagram, as we were used to until a few weeks ago. If before I thought that he was acting distant, now he was basically a ghost.
I didn't know what I was actually expecting from him, maybe it was also for this reason that it hurted unconditionally. Anyway I was pretty sure that a text would be so nice.
Regardless I couldn't get distracted. Not after the amazing result got in Monza. I finally had the chance to demonstrate to everyone how much I deserved the seat, that I didn't get for pity nor for mediatic reasons as a woman in the motorsport would make a good image- as many people kept thinking and murmuring about in the paddock or even under my posts on socials.
After the last visit at the factory for some sim work, I flew to Sochi for the next GP with the team. Traveling with the private jet was the best option, mainly because of the many expected hours of flight. In fact it seemed to pass in a bunch of minutes, playing some table games with the mechanics, discussing some aerodynamics details with the engineers or watching funny tv series with Pierre.
As soon as we landed, I noticed how the weather in Russia was the worst ever- it was raining cats and dogs and it was quite cold too. Basically the perfect conditions to race.
The first days of the race weekend, luckily, passed in a second.
I didn't see or hear from Lando yet. I'm starting to think that for him was simply a one-night stand and nothing more, maybe I should just move on.
Quali wasn't too good for us, but for him... well, for him was perfect. He got his very first pole position and even though this situationship, I felt happy for him and I had to keep myself busy to not go and congratulate him.
If the qualification on Saturday was bad, the race was even worse, as I had to retire my car after only four laps due to an unlucky hydraulic failure. After media and the usual post-race phone call with my parents to let them know that I was safe and sound, I walked back to the garage, to watch the rest of the race with the guys from the team and supporting them until the end.
When I pointed the attention to the screen on the side of the pit-wall, after took a seat with the race engineers and Franz, I noticed how Lando was doing really good, leading most of the laps although the very bad weather conditions. All of this until a safety car, that broke completely the balance. For some discussable reasons, he decided to not pit to switch into intermediate tires and for this reason he started to loose totally grip in a chicane. He had just lost his first victory, in a matter of seconds, for his own fault- I didn't want to know how he must feel in that moment.
Everyone heard his frustration through the radio but I was the only one that gasped hearing him so upset.
Maybe I should go seeing him, just a minute. I thought, imagining his disappointed face.
"Sorry, Kiara?"
I heard an unknown voice behind me while I was drinking a tea with Franz and Suz in the hospitality.
"Ehm, yes?"
"Hi, I'm Charlotte, McLaren's media manager. Do you maybe have a second?"
I was confused but at the same time curious about her request. She asked me to follow her to the McLaren building for a weird kind of emergency.
"I don't know how to explain it, but... Well, Lando locked himself in his room and doesn't let anybody come in. He's still pretty upset about the race, I guess. A few days ago he told me you two were quite close friends, so I thought that you could maybe try and talk to him?"
What? Absolutely not. Close friends?
"Ehm, Charlotte. I'm sorry but I don't think it's a good idea."
"And why's that?" She asked, furrowing her thin eyebrows and showing all her worries.
Yeah, why?
"We kind of had an argument the other day." I said, with a tone so low that I wasn't so sure she was able to hear me.
"Oh, so it could be a good chance to talk about it too. Please Kiara, just give it a try. I'm actually worried for him." She added, putting her hand on my arm in a friendly way.
Oh my goodness. In what situation I was.
After a few minutes, I found myself in front of an orange door with a black target with his name printed on.
Knock knock.
"I'll leave you alone." Charlotte whispered, giving me what seemed to be an encouraging smile, before going downstairs.
"Ehm, Lando, I'm Kiara. Listen, everyone's pretty worried for you, can you just open the door-"
My stupid attempt of helping Charlotte was soon interrupted by the door who flew opened in front of my face.
He stood there, still in his suit, zipped low on his hips. His face was a mix of emotions: angriness, disappointment, maybe even sadness. It looked like he had cried for a bit as the usual blue-green eyes were shiny and slightly red.
"What the fuck are you doing here? What can't you understand about the phrase I want to be alone, huh?"
I was already mad at him before for my own reasons, so his attitude was just making it worse, increasing all the bad vibes around us.
"Listen well, idiot. You made a mistake- actually not only now-, but still a huge one on track. You've been too full of yourself and fucked up everything. I can also understand that you want to be alone and cry on your bruise but you can't shout at each person that tries to help you. Your whole team is sick worried about you because they don't even know if you're hurt or whatever. So stop being such an ass and start being mature."
I didn't where I took all this courage to let free my madness, spouting at him all I was thinking in that moment, not caring about hurting him or at all the people from his team who were just a few meters away and that could easily hear me.
"Who the hell do you think you are to come here and shout at me?-" He asked at the apex of his arrogance but once again I interrupted his insult.
"Someone that cared about you."
And like that, after letting free in the air a little part of my bad mood at him, as if it was a personal revenge, I left him there, at his opened door.
I had no idea if he was speechless or if it was just his stupid face. Anyway I started to walk, or almost run away from there the quickest I could, as if a minute more there with him would make me turn into a hurricane of emotions.
In just a few minutes I reached back my team that was basically on the other part of the paddock. I put a fake smile on my face, waved at a few colleagues and got ready to leave with Pierre and Suz to have dinner and finish the day in a peaceful way after such a storm.