Page 32 of Close Contact
I exhaled shakily, the tension in my chest loosening as a flood of emotions hit me. Relief? Pride? Exhaustion? I couldn’t name it, but it was overwhelming.
“Copy,” I replied, my voice steady despite the rush of excitement. I wanted to celebrate, but the words I’d overheard this week still lingered—doubts about my worth, my body, my place here.
The numbers didn’t lie. Today, I’d silenced every one of them.
I stood there,helmet tucked under my arm, and allowed myself to take it in.
For a moment, I wasn’t in Monaco. I was back in my firstkartingrace, gripping the wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white,Étiennebeside me, grinning like he’d already won. Back then, the idea of being here, in Formula 1, had felt like a distant fantasy—something for other kids, boys with connections, not a girl fromMarseillewith scraped knees and a stubborn streak. But now, here I was. On pole in Monaco. Notbecause I’d followedÉtienne’spath, but because I’d carved my own.
This was more than just a lap—it was history. The culmination of years of sacrifice, determination, and grit. Every painful crash, every sleepless night questioning if I was enough—it had all led tothis.
“AurélieDubois, the first woman to ever take pole position in Monaco!” the announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers, and the crowd erupted again. I lifted my hand in acknowledgment, a genuine smile breaking through the mask I’d kept on all weekend. For once, I wasn’t worried about what anyone thought. This was mine.
It wasn’t luck, and it wasn’t handed to me. My mind reeled, replaying the perfection of my laps—the split-second decisions that had pushed me to the limit. There was no doubt today, no questioning if I belonged. My skills had spoken louder than any whispers behind closed doors.
“Great work,Aurélie,” one of my engineers said, clapping me on the shoulder, his voice tinged with an enthusiasm that felt almost hollow in my ears.
“Thanks,” I replied, my tone clipped, not matching his energy. I wanted to celebrate with them, but I couldn’t. Not with their comments still echoing in my mind.
My gaze drifted to the sea of familiar faces around me, and I grinned when I spottedKimiweaving his way through the crowd.P4. The strongest start forLuminisin years, and better than anyone expected. He swept me into a hug the moment he reached me, lifting me off my feet as if my win were his.
“That’s my girl!” he exclaimed, his excitement infectious.
A laugh bubbled out of me, real and unrestrained, as I hugged him back. “We did it,” I whispered, my voice cracking slightly.
“You did it,” he corrected, grinning as he set me down. “Remember that time inF2when you doubted yourself after that crash in Spa? What did I tell you then?”
I rolled my eyes. “You said, ‘Get back in that fucking car and show them why they’ll never forget your name.’”
“And look at you now.” His hand rested briefly on my shoulder. “Making history. No one will forget this,Aurélie. You bloody deserve this.” I fought tears. In a world where I was constantly scrutinized,Kimi’sunwavering support felt like a lifeline.
As I stepped away, the cheers shifted, and I turned to see Marco andCallumapproaching, their Vanguard race suits crisp against the backdrop of the paddock. Marco’s grin was wide, his hands on his hips, whileCallum’sstride was purposeful, his expression somewhere between pride and mischief.
“Hell of a lap,” Marco said, clapping me on the back. “You really showed us up today.”
“Don’t get used to it,”Callumteased, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’re making the rest of us look bad.”
I grinned back at them, softer and more genuine than I’d managed with my own team. “Thanks, boys. But I’ll take it while I can.”
Despite the camaraderie, I kept it professional. Cameras were everywhere, and the last thing I needed was rumors swirling about the two men I’d grown to respect—and something more for one of them.
As they walked away,Kiminudged me with his elbow. “They like you more than they’re letting on,” he joked.
“Maybe they just know talent when they see it.”
“Or maybe they see what I see,”Kimireplied, his voice softer. “Someone who doesn’t need anyone’s approval to shine.”
His words stuck with me as I turned back to face our team. For the first time all weekend, I didn’t feel the need to chase their validation.
I had the only support system I needed.
The interviews came next,a whirlwind of questions that felt as sharp as the corners of the Monaco track. The first few focused on my performance, on how it felt to secure my first career pole at one of the most challenging circuits in Formula 1. I spoke confidently, my answers deliberate and poised.
“History has just been made!” A reporter’s voice surged above the clamor. “Aurélie, you’re the first woman inF1history to claim pole position, and on the streets of Monaco, no less. How does it feel knowing your name is etched into the sport’s legacy?”
I exhaled slowly. “It’s… overwhelming,” I admitted. “Monaco… every driver dreams of conquering it, and to have done that today, as a rookie no less, is surreal. It’s something I’ll carry with me forever.”
Another voice chimed in. “Your pace was unmatched through all three qualifying sessions. What clicked for you and the car this weekend?”
