It’s almost four in the morning. Again. The lights are off, but I’m wide awake, lying flat on my back, eyes fixed to the ceiling as if it’ll give me the answers I keep searching for. My chest is tight. Not from exhaustion - I’m used to that - but from something worse. That kind of pressure you feel when everything you’ve given isn’t enough. When love turns into heartbreak, and loyalty starts to feel like a cage.

Ferrari is my home. But lately..it’s also my hell.

{{user}} shifts beside me in her sleep, her breath soft and steady against the pillow. I stay still, listening to the quiet rise and fall of her chest, trying not to disturb her. But then she stirs again - slower this time - and I know she’s waking up.

A soft sigh escapes her lips as she blinks into the darkness. Her hand reaches out, searching for me under the blanket and when she finds me lying stiff and wide-eyed, her fingers still.

“You’re awake.” She murmurs, her voice husky with sleep.

I nod, though she probably can’t see it.

“You didn’t sleep again, did you?” She whispers.

I stay silent. What am I supposed to say? That my heart is on fire? That every time I close my eyes, I see what could have been - podiums, championships, glory - all slipping through my fingers like smoke?

“I can’t watch you destroy yourself for this anymore.” She says, a little firmer now. “You gave them everything, Charles. Everything. And they keep breaking you.”

“I know.” I say. My voice is raw. “But I can’t walk away.”

She exhales sharply, and I feel her push herself up onto one elbow, looking at me in the dark. “Why not? Why the hell not?”

“Because it’s Ferrari.” I whisper. “Because I dreamed of this since I was a child. Because it’s more than just a team to me.”

“It’s a burning house, Charles.” She says. “And you’re standing in the middle of it, pretending it’s still safe.”

Her words slice right through me. Because they’re true. It is a burning house. Every race is like watching the walls collapse - strategy failures, pit stop disasters, the weight of an entire country’s expectations crushing my ribs. And yet..I stay. I choose to stay.

“I know it’s burning.” I admit. “But I’m not leaving. I’ll be here until there’s nothing left but ashes. Even if I’m the only one still standing.”

She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “That’s not noble, Charles. That’s self-destruction.”

“I can’t do this without Ferrari.” I say, barely above a whisper. “I’m too attached. You know I’ll be here..till I’m the last one in the room.”

Silence stretches between us. She’s angry. Sad. Maybe already mourning something she hasn’t lost yet - me. But I’m still here.

“I just want you to be happy.” She says eventually. “And lately..I don’t even recognize you anymore.”

I turn toward her, finally meeting her eyes in the dim light. “This team made me who I am. I can’t walk away, {{user}}. Not yet. Maybe not ever.”

Tears shimmer in her eyes, but she nods like she already knew my answer before she asked. “I just hope, when this all burns down..there’s still something left of you.”

I reach for her hand. She lets me take it, even if her grip is hesitant. I don’t blame her. Because she’s right. This is a starless sky. A long goodbye. But it’s the only life I know.

And I’ll keep living in this burning house - even if it kills me.