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cieloclercs · 9 months

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𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐞 | chapter four

pairings: charles leclerc x senna!oc part: 4/? warnings: swearing, a little angsty word count: 5.9k

SAUDADE. in which childhood rivals turned best friends realise they were always meant to be something more

04. in fair verona

author’s note: and so it begins 👀 also yes i chose verona because of romeo and juliet (noa and charles are them in modern day, interpret that how you’d like) 🫣 hope you enjoy!

read it on wattpad!

previous: chapter 3 next ➜ chapter 5

5 August 2012 Zuera International Circuit, Spain WSK Euro Series, Final Round

NOA IS ON her feet the second he crosses the line, cheering until her throat is raw. She can see him raise his fist in triumph, drifting around the first turn of the track on his victory lap with one hand. Charles Leclerc, her best friend, is the WSK Euro Series champion by a landslide.

The Senna Borges family has travelled all the way from Brazil to watch this moment. Luiz, her little brother, is on her right, jumping up and down and screaming like his life depends on it. Her mother holds his hand, trying to keep him as calm as possible, but Noa can sense that underneath her serene smile, she is just as excited. To the left, her father claps with his hands above his head, a proud grin ever-present on his face as he watches the young boy he now considers as a second son lead the final victory lap around the track. Gabriel’s pride is next only to that of Charles’ family, who stand on the other side of him. Hervé is jumping around almost as excitedly as Luiz, with Arthur tucked under his arm. Pascale, who has had her head in her hands in worry for almost the entire race, now cheers louder than anyone else (although she keeps a close, wary eye on her son still, heart in her mouth as he takes sharp corners with only one hand on the wheel). They probably look a little crazy to everyone else in the garage, but none of them care. This is Charles’ time, and they’ll be damned if they can’t celebrate it properly.

Noa, Arthur and Luiz practically sprint to the front of the podium, before a crowd can gather and block them off. They save a space for their parents as best they can, though it’s a tight squeeze when the families of the other podium finishers also arrive. Still, they make room. They’re not about to let any of them miss this moment, when Charles walks out ready to take his trophy – it should be any second now. Noa looks up at her father with quite possibly the widest smile he’s ever seen. Pascale has her camera at the ready, its memory cleared so she can take as many pictures of her son as is humanly possible. No doubt, she’ll be showing them around the family all night, and Charles will groan in embarrassment each time.

The cheers go up as the three podium finishers walk out, Charles at the back waving excitedly once he sees his family at the front of the crowd. In second and third are two Italians, Felice Tiene and Antonio Fuoco, grinning just as widely to be runner ups as Charles is to have won. Noa tries to catch his eye, but he’s too focussed on his parents and brother. She doesn’t mind too much – she’ll have plenty of time to see him afterwards.

A silver, gleaming trophy is brought out and thrust into Charles’ arms by whoever has been selected to present it – presumably the owner of the track or some other hot-shot in the karting industry. He lifts it high above his head, too modest to cheer, but proud enough that he can’t fight the grin on his face as the crowd raise up to congratulate him. It’s then that his eyes find Noa’s, drifting from his family to the next person he wants to share this moment with; his best friend. She’s been watching him the whole time, of course, waiting for her opportunity. When she sees he’s finally turned to her, she cheers so loudly it could even rival the noise Pascale is making. He shakes his head, laughing, but Noa knows him well enough now to see the glint in his eye. He wants them all to cheer for him, deep down, even if he complains. When all’s said and done, Charles Leclerc simply wants to make his family proud.

The Leclerc-Borges’, as is tradition, go out to dinner at the nicest restaurant they can find to celebrate. They’d done the same just over a year ago now after Charles’ victory in the KF3 Kart World Cup, and since then, with every race win and even every disappointment, they never fail to spend the evenings together – as if they’re one family as a whole. It was natural after the world cup, in which Charles and Noa were so closely matched, forming a rivalry on-track and a friendship off it, for their parents to grow just as close. Gabriel and Hervé spend race weekends chipping in with bits of advice and talking through strategies, whilst Flávia and Pascale catch each other up on everything they may have missed over their months of separation – with the Leclercs in Monaco and the Senna-Borges’ in Brazil. Noa already has plenty of family, mostly on her father’s side (thanks to his four siblings), but Charles, Arthur, Lorenzo, Hervé and Pascale mean just as much to her.

Their group is split up when they arrive at the restaurant, adults on one table, kids on the other. The two younger Leclerc brothers are outraged as Lorenzo is allowed to join their parents, making sure to shoot them a thumbs up and a shit-eating grin before turning away. Noa sits next to Charles on their small table, set at the side of the private corner her father has booked out for the occasion, with Luiz sat across from her and Arthur to his left. Charles’ grumbles about being lumped in with the ‘kids’ (despite being almost fifteen years old) carry far enough to be heard by his parents, no doubt on purpose. Though, if Pascale and Hervé do hear anything, their only reaction is to smirk into their wine glasses.

“If you sit on the adult’s table you won’t be able to talk to me, idiota.” Noa hisses, swatting his arm playfully as he shoots another dirty look in his parent’s direction.

“Who says I want to talk to you?” Charles retorts, grinning smugly. Her eyes widen and she gasps, hitting him again with more force. He flinches away, giggling.

“I’m kidding!” he raises his hands in surrender. Noa decides to give him the benefit of the doubt, tucking readily into her food.

The Senna Borges family always say she inherited her father’s energetic personality – which is just a kinder way of saying she doesn’t know when to shut up. Luiz is similar, but when Noa hasn’t seen her best friend in over a month, she finds that she has so much to tell him about, her stream of conversation can be endless. Charles knows this better than anyone. He’s sat through many of her rants where he hardly pays attention to the actual words she says, but rather finds his attention captured by the many varying expressions on her face. Noa is at her most animated when she talks about something she’s passionate about. She also (as an incident on the beach in Monaco about six months ago taught them, when she was so engrossed in a retelling of one of her latest races that she tripped and fell face-first into the wet sand) becomes completely unaware of her surroundings. Charles has learnt to take advantage of this well. Noa doesn’t even notice him stealing her French fries as she talks. It’s only Arthur and Luiz’s giggles that alert her to his antics.

“Hey!” she exclaims, her voice climbing an octave, and Charles’ hand jumps away from where he had been about to steal another French fry from her plate, “Don’t take my food, puta.”

From the adjacent table, Noa hears her mother’s voice scolding her in Portuguese (and her father’s poorly concealed snort of amusement). She turns her attention to the former for a moment, apologising sheepishly. Then her focus is back on Charles, where he sits trying desperately to hide his smile.

“You’ve barely eaten any.” He defends, “You talk so much you don’t even have time to eat!”

Arthur and Luiz seem to find this particular comment hilarious, much to Noa’s growing annoyance. This is an instance in which she finds it difficult to focus on more than one thing at once – the first, shooting her brother and friend the dirtiest look she can manage, and the second (which she’s too preoccupied to take note of), Charles’ hand creeping over the table to pinch yet another fry from her plate. Noa’s head whirls around. She doesn’t hesitate this time to slap him away with as much force as she can muster. He yelps, dropping the fry onto the floor. ‘Well done, now no one can eat it.’ She hears Luiz quip in the background. For once, Noa pays him no mind.

“Stop being mean!” she says to Charles, her lower lip sticking out just a little involuntarily, “I haven’t seen you in a month. I’ve got a lot to tell you about.”

If there’s one thing Charles Leclerc has learned in his just over year-long friendship with Noa, it’s that she’s unapologetically loud. He supposes it’s a family trait, because all of the Senna Borges’ are like that, to varying extents – even Flávia, the calmest of the group, is known to grow pretty lively once she’s had a couple of drinks. Though Charles isn’t necessarily used to that kind of unrelenting, chaotic energy, it’s one of the things he likes most about Noa. She never runs out of enthusiasm, even if she’s telling him about something as mundane as what she had for breakfast, the way she talks has him gripping the edge of his seat, or shaking with laughter, or even simply gazing at her in wonder. Somehow, she manages to make everything seem like the adventure of a lifetime.

It hits him then that in the month they’ve been apart, he’s really missed her long-winded rants. They haven’t seen each other since the anniversary of their first meeting, the Junior Kart World Cup, where Charles and his family watched her breeze through the rest of the field to take victory. After that, they went their separate ways, Noa back to Rio with her family, and him to Monaco, all the way on the other side of the world. Charles isn’t sure why it didn’t occur to him that the dull emptiness he felt in all that time was him missing her.

“Sorry, mouse.” He replies quietly. His formerly playful grin morphs into something a little more tender. Though if Noa notices it, she’s certainly too preoccupied groaning at the use of her nickname to think too much about it.

“Mouse?” Luiz snickers from across the other side of the table.

“Yeah!” Charles nods enthusiastically, “Because her nose scrunches up when she’s angry. Like a mouse!”

Once again, Arthur and Luiz seem to find this bit of information hilarious. Noa doesn’t bother trying to shut them up – she’ll deal with her brother at least later on – so instead she turns to her best friend. She makes a show of despising the nickname he gave her a little over six months ago now. At first, it had annoyed her a little. She wants to be seen as something strong and powerful, certainly not a mouse; to her, it seems a little insulting to be likened to something so small, so insignificant. It didn’t take long for her to get over herself – it’s just a silly nickname after all, but now she’s reluctant to drop the pretence of annoyance whenever Charles uses it. Besides, she knew if Luiz ever found out, he’d tease her about it non-stop. Give him the tiniest incentive to push her buttons, and he’ll grab at it with both hands.

“See! Just like that.” Charles giggles, pointing towards Noa’s face where she is trying to give him a dirty look. Arthur and Luiz break out into peals of laughter again, and she can do nothing but throw her hands up in the air in exasperation. Annoyance is the easiest emotion to switch to, after all, and she’d never admit to Charles that maybe she doesn’t hate that stupid nickname as much as she lets on.

“I hate you.” She mutters to him when she’s sure Luiz and Arthur aren’t listening. She knows her smile is betraying her, but in all honesty, she also doesn’t see why he would ever believe it to be true – Charles is her best friend in the entire world. He can see the teasing glint in her eye as clearly as he sees his own hand waving in front of his face, “I thought we made a pact to never repeat that in front of anyone?” Noa says, arching her eyebrows.

“Sorry.” He murmurs back, his smile mirroring hers. “I can’t help it. It’s cute when you try to be intimidating.”

She has to look away then, fighting hard to stop the heat she can feel building beneath her skin from appearing on her cheeks. Charles is giggling at his own words and the memory of her expression when he looks away, immediately being pulled into a new conversation with Luiz. Noa shakes her head. One final stolen, curious glance, and everything returns to normal – no blushing, no sudden flips inside her stomach. For once, she lets her best friend talk, listening to his voice with a fondness she feels for no one else, trying to commit it to memory for the next time they are separated. It’s kept away in a little lockbox in the back of her mind – moments with him – which, in the times when she feels loneliest, are sometimes her only solace. One day, Noa swears, they’ll be able to spend every waking minute together. No more goodbyes outside airports. No more five hour time differences. From then until the rest of their lives.

26 January 2021 Verona, Italy

THERE’S A LAYER of frost covering the cobbled streets, something which Noa makes sure to keep an extra close eye on as she shuffles along. Of all the places in Italy she’s travelled to, from Milan to Venice and Rome to Maranello in her Ferrari Academy days, she’s never been to Verona. She thinks perhaps, in the summer, she’ll be able to see its beauty more clearly, but in temperatures near freezing, the Brazilian in her is too frozen stiff to pay much attention to her surroundings. Noa’s only goal is to get to the café and then get out again as quickly as is humanly possible. Both because of the weather and who she’ll be meeting inside.

Normally, convenience is greeted with relief and a muted form of happiness, especially when it comes to making plans. The fact that Noa and Charles both happen to be in Italy at the same time, within only a hundred or so miles of each other, is incredibly convenient. But it’s not the kind that makes her relieved they won’t have to bend over backwards just to find a time in their busy schedules where they’re both free to meet. This kind of convenience Noa could really do without. It feels more like the universe working against her than some form of divine miracle. She’d been hoping to put off this meeting for as long as possible after Charles suggested it at the gala, but of course, it had only taken him a day to suggest a time, and once she’d realised she was due to be in Italy at that time anyway, there really was no getting out of it.

Verona, as it turns out, is the closest place between Maranello and Vicenza where they can meet in private. Maranello itself is out of the picture of course, because it’s essentially the Holy Land for Ferrari fans, and they’re always swarming the place at every time of year – not just in the summer. Being spotted together by fans after two years of complete radio silence is not the way Noa wants to begin her Formula 1 career. Vicenza, where she is helping her brother and his girlfriend move into their temporary apartment, again is too close to where fans might spot them to be deemed safe. Besides, everyone following Luiz on Instagram already knows she’s with him (thanks to his insufferable habit of taking pictures of her sleeping on planes), and since it’s common knowledge where her brother is spending the next couple of days (again, a consequence of his over-sharing on social media), it’s not difficult to connect the dots.

Verona is the middle ground. Somewhere neither of them are expected to be, yet close enough that they can meet up for coffee for a few hours and be back in their respective hotels again before anyone even notices they’re missing. Noa just hopes the thick scarf she’s wrapped around her neck will be a good enough disguise. Her favourite pair of high-top converse slip over the icy cobbles, and she winces as she tries to steady herself. The café they’ve arranged to meet at is right across the street. She sucks in a deep breath, slowing her rapid heartbeat, trying to convince herself it will all be ok. Then she’s walking with purpose, pushing open the door. It doesn’t take long to spot him. He’s stood up already, eyes wide, arms slightly outstretched in an awkward manner as if he’s not quite sure how to greet her. Noa steels her expression and walks over to his table.

In the past, he’d have hugged her, kissed either of her cheeks, and she’d have smiled in the way that makes his heart soar. Now it’s in a pit in his stomach. She offers him nothing more than a curt nod before sliding into the seat opposite him. Charles wipes his slightly sweaty palms on his jeans. He’s been sat in the café for almost half an hour now, a little earlier than they arranged to meet, giving himself a mental pep talk. A part of him feared she wouldn’t show up at all. Yet here she is sat in front of him, eyes glued to her folded hands, posture rigid. It feels so strange. This isn’t the way their story is supposed to unfold; they’re supposed to be best friends, together until the end. Now they feel like strangers.

“Can we make this quick please?” Noa speaks first, her voice strained, unnerved by the prolonged silence. Charles realises he’s been staring, “I told my brother I’d be back by three.”

He’s quick to nod. He wants to protest, to tell her that he doesn’t think this is something that can be sorted over a twenty minute cup of coffee, but right now, it’s enough to simply have her here. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to convince her to meet again any other time; which makes it harder for him to spit out his plan for the coming season, in all honesty. But at least she’s here to listen to it, he thinks.

“Alright.” Charles croaks, immediately wincing at the sound of his voice. He can’t fathom why his heart is starting to pound now, and his skin feels like it’s trying to peel itself from his bones. He’s never been this nervous around Noa before, not his Noa. Sure, he used to feel his cheeks heat up when she complimented him, and butterflies erupt in his stomach whenever he spotted her cheering for him below the podium, but this is different. This is pure anxiety. It’s uncomfortable and it’s wrong. He should never feel this way around his best friend; not the one he remembers anyway, the one who could turn any story into an adventure, who used to brighten up his day with her laughter. But, he supposes, she isn’t really his Noa anymore. She’s changed.

They decide to order their coffees before getting down to business. She fights the look of surprise on her face when Charles orders the exact same drink that Arthur had just over a month ago: a Nutella mocha, sans chocolate flakes, because this little Italian coffee shop is a little classier than the one in London. They’ve opted for chocolate dusting instead. Noa sticks to her black coffee. She knows in another time, he’d call her choice boring, and she’d allow herself to laugh before making a quip about his sweet tooth (exactly the same as she had with Arthur – the Leclerc brothers really are carbon copies of each other, even if they’d both vehemently deny it). She also knows that Charles is thinking the same. That’s the thing about knowing someone as well as they know each other. Even though they’ve both changed, they can still read each other like open books.

“I’m not going to sugar-coat any of this for you.” Noa speaks up finally, just when the silence is beginning to grow unbearable, “I really need this deal. But I can’t and won’t accept it if you don’t co-operate with me.” She states. Her tone is hard and business-like. It’s so different to the vibrancy with which he remembers her talking. He finds it hard to believe this is the same person.

“I’m going to co-operate.” Charles responds feebly, “Look, I know how important this is. I don’t want to ruin it for you.” He says, almost pleading. He can live without this contract – God knows he already makes enough from sponsorships anyway – but if Chanel needs both of them for it to work, then he’ll sign without a moment’s hesitation. He’s done holding back Noa’s career; unintentionally or not.

“Ok.” The aforementioned blinks in surprise, “Then we’ll need to lay out some ground rules.” She carries on, seemingly unfazed. He nods his agreement immediately, “First, we can’t let our…past interfere with our jobs. That applies to Chanel and to racing. Second, we don’t talk to the media about 2018. Or any other aspects of our personal lives that we wouldn’t want getting out to the fans.”

Charles nods again. Everything she’s saying sounds perfectly reasonable so far, and more importantly doable. They’re all the things he had been hoping they could agree on when he suggested this meeting.

“Third.” Noa speaks up again, her expression falling further, “We can pretend to Chanel and the media that we’ve patched up our differences. But once the cameras are off, I don’t want anything to do with you.”

Charles’ heart all but stops.

“W-What?” he stammers. He searches her face for any sign of a prank or a joke that he may have missed, but she’s perfectly stoic. Her features are still soft as he remembers: cheekbones curving perfectly, thick lashes brushing against her upper cheek, cupid’s bow lips that he knows can curve into the most beautiful smile on earth. Yet she’s cold and hardened to him in a way he never thought was possible. Naïve Charles always believed he’d be the object of her sweet smiles and golden features forever. Now he’s on the end of a look she’d only give to her worst enemy.

“I’m serious, Charles. I don’t want anything to do with you.” She repeats, as if to twist the knife in deeper. He can’t find the words in him to reply for a moment. Everything he’s feeling is so confusing. There’s despair and unwanted anger, but the latter is bubbling up quicker. He knows it’s a defence against the emotions he won’t acknowledge. Anger is easier than accepting them, even if it’s what got them into this situation in the first place.

“So you’re just going to pretend to the world that we’re friends again, but treat me like a stranger behind closed doors?” Charles hisses, “I’m not a stranger, Noa. You can’t just act like seven years never happened –“

“Can I not?” she cuts across him, eyes blazing, “You threw away those seven years pretty easily.”

So did you! He wants to yell. Charles has battled with the memory of their last conversation for years now, and he still refuses to believe that every harsh word spoken that night was entirely his fault. They both said things they didn’t mean. They both threw their friendship onto the furnace like a piece of discarded rubbish. It wasn’t just him.

But there’s no point digging all that up now. It’s not why they’re here. So Charles reins the venom on his tongue back in, stamping out the flames licking at his chest. He knows that one day they’ll have to speak about the events of that night, but today isn’t that day. They simply need to figure out how they’re going to navigate their careers around each other for the next few months. Though evidently, if Noa’s ‘ground rules’ are anything to go by, coming to an agreement isn’t going to be so easy – Charles simply can’t in good conscience fake their friendship in front of cameras and have her look at him like this whenever they’re alone; as if she hates him. His heart just can’t take that. If she wants compromise, she’s going to have to do the same for him too.

“Look,” he begins, levelling out his voice as best he can, “I understand why you don’t want to talk to me. I really do. But we’re not going to be able to convince anyone that we’re friends again unless we at least try to work through our differences.”

“Why not?” She shoots back almost immediately. The laugh that greets her is bitter and sorrowful.

“You’re very expressive, Noa.” Charles murmurs, “Even when you try to hide it. Everyone in this room right now can see that you’d rather be anywhere but here. With me.” He chuckles again. It’s completely humourless; almost jarring. She’s never heard his laugh so empty before.

“So what do you suggest?” she speaks again after a moment, her tone not quite so accusatory this time. “We can’t just move on. Pretend like nothing happened.”

“No, I know. I know.” He breathes out, a little shaky. He has an idea for how they may be able to put their differences aside – at least for a little while. Somewhere safe for the both of them, where he’ll have protection if she tries to bite his head off, and she’ll have others to turn to when she inevitably gets sick of the sight of him: family. “I think, if we spend some time together before the season starts, it’ll be easier.” He says warily. Noa’s eyes narrow.

“What are you suggesting?” she asks. Her voice is soft, but it’s low too, and dangerous. Charles isn’t sure how to approach this. He views it like ripping off a band-aid, as cliché as the phrase might be for describing uncomfortable situations. Though it absolutely applies in this case. He’s not stupid enough to believe she’ll accept his offer without putting up a fight.

“Come stay with me.” He blurts out, “In Monaco. For a while, I mean. So we can figure everything out.”

He searches her face for a reaction. She’s eerily calm, and though it feels like a warning to him, he takes it as an opportunity to further support his case. Frankly, he’s lucky she hasn’t thrown her coffee in his face yet, like some kind of cruel, scorching symbol of rejection. Charles knows when to take the win.

“I’m out of my apartment for a while, so I’m staying with maman.” He continues hastily, “I could ask her to set up your old room again? It hasn’t been used since 2018, but we kept everything in it pretty much the same.”

Still, no reaction. Nothing but an unwavering, undecipherable stare. She’s weighing up the pros and cons in her mind already, he knows she is. Despite being a deeply emotional (occasionally erratic) person, Noa rarely makes any decision without thinking it through thoroughly beforehand. She’s surprisingly methodical in that sense. Charles likens it to the way she thinks before a race. Sometimes she’ll sit in silence for hours, considering every possible factor; grid position, immediate opponents, strategy, various curveballs that are almost always thrown into the mix. It’s the mentality of a winner, he thinks. But she hasn’t quite mastered it yet – or they wouldn’t be here having this conversation right now.

“It’s not just for me.” He tries again desperately, all but begging for some kind of reaction now, “Maman misses you. She always tells me. Arthur and Lorenzo would love to see you again too –“

“I saw Arthur in London.” She says softly. Her voice cutting across him almost comes as a surprise. Though that’s mostly because she still sounds so calm…and perhaps something else as well, something familiar he can’t quite put his finger on.

“I know.” Charles nods. “He told me.”

A few days before Christmas, at their annual family get-together. Hearing her name from his brother’s mouth, breaking the unspoken rule they have to never talk about her when he’s around, woke something up inside him. Something he’d tried to bury – evidently, not deep enough.

“Of course he did.” Noa scoffs. She’d known Arthur would feed back their conversation in that little café, even though she asked him not to. Brothers stick together, after all. She shakes her head. That’s not the point of this. Back to the point.

“You can’t expect me to drop everything and come live with you for – what, a month?” she tells him. Her harsh tone is gone, but she’s exasperated now, almost defeated. This isn’t going to be a quick fix like she hoped, that’s clear now – though she knows she was deluded to believe it would be in the first place. It’s clear what Charles is asking her. Stay with him until the start of the season. A little like exposure therapy; confront her with forced proximity, and it might not be so hard to act like everything is normal when the cameras and the media come around. They’ll be pretending enough with Pascale and his brothers watching, after all. Charles knows Noa would do whatever it takes to keep them happy, especially his mother.

“I have my own family too, in case you forgot. I can’t just disappear for two months.” She reasons. He’s already shaking his head before she’s even finished her sentence.

“I’m not asking you to.” He sighs, “Obviously you don’t have to stay the whole time. We’ll both have testing and other things besides…I’m not going to be keeping you under house arrest, Noa.” He trails off, running a hand through his hair, “Just – come back to Monaco after testing and after seeing your family. For the sake of this deal, just help me try to make things normal again. Please.”

Come back to Monaco. Come back for him, is what he means. Noa can hear the undertone, hear the desperation, the pleading. Logistically, it makes sense. They’re both based in Europe for testing, within a similar range of the western hemisphere. Their schedules will overlap, leaving them with time where they’re both free of duties. Come back when he’s there. Staying with Pascale is his cover, but it’s nothing more than that – Noa will always love the rest of the Leclerc family. It’s not them she has to learn to tolerate again. Like it or not, she’s beginning to realise that Charles is right. The only way they’ll be able to work together is if they’re already used to it. Exposure therapy.

"Ok." she says simply, not meeting his eye. Charles blinks in surprise, "Give me a couple of weeks to sort everything out with Raffa and my family. How does early February sound to you? Say around…the eighth?”

“Uh –“ he stutters slightly, wracking his brain to try and remember if he has any prior commitments that might clash. He can think of none, “Yeah, that sounds good for me. I’ll have to check with maman of course…” he trails off. Noa nods in understanding. Though Charles knows that his mother will clear whatever she has in her schedule, no matter how important, to accommodate for his former best friend. Even if they’ve been estranged for two years, Pascale still considers Noa as her daughter. It’s this that makes it hard for him to face his mother sometimes – the sorrow and disappointment in her eyes, that because of his mistakes, it’s not just him that has lost her.

“Don’t think that just because I’m not complaining means I’m happy about this. I’m not.” She reiterates, the ice returning to her eyes. Charles’ heart sinks as he watches it take over her features again, features that he thought may have been beginning to soften. But then her previous words hit him again, like a head-on collision with a freight train. I don’t want anything to do with you. He has to swallow back the lump in his throat.

“I know.” He says quietly, “But I wouldn’t suggest it if I didn’t think it was necessary.”

He can only hope that in the time they are forced to spend together, he may be able to break down some of the walls she’s clearly built up against him – to soften her eyes when she looks at him, and make her smile like he always used to. Charles doesn’t yet know how they are going to be able to move forward, but he knows he has to try before it’s too late. He’s already wasted two years. He refuses to let any more precious time slip between his fingers.

Noa doesn’t stick around long after that, and though it feels like an omen, he tries his best not to seem too downhearted. She suggests they split the bill when it’s placed in front of them. Charles is quick to shake his head at her. He insists on paying for both of them; he won’t hear otherwise, even when he can see the annoyance that flashes in her eyes at his persistence. But Noa relents soon enough, allowing the waiter that attends to them to put the bill on his card. Who is she to turn down a free coffee?

They leave separately, five minutes apart – as per Noa’s insistence. She doesn’t want to risk being seen leaving together, already aware of the many possible headlines the media would come up with even if they caught the tiniest glimpse of them. Charles has half a mind to tell her that they could just have easily been spotted together in the café, but holds his tongue just in time. She doesn’t give him enough time to say a proper goodbye. Noa waltzes out of the doors just as quickly as she had walked in; it reminds him of how abruptly she’d turned away that night in 2018. He can’t even begin to form the words of an explanation or an apology. She never waits long enough.

He sits in solitude in the café for a few more minutes, playing back their entire conversation in his head. It went much better than he had been expecting, yet there’s an empty feeling in his chest as he recalls the cold softness of her voice. His worst fear is coming true. He feels like he doesn’t really know her anymore. It’s as if the chapter in his life that centred around Noa is closing, against his will, and no matter what he does, he can’t stop the page from falling shut forever. Charles knows of course that nothing can last forever. But she is the one person he believed would always be constant.

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