Summary: After a devastating crash at the WSK Euro Series at La Conca in May 2011 ended her karting career and left her blind in one eye, Saarbrücken racer Annika “Ani” Kramer has reinvented herself as a freelance video game concept artist, inspired by a childhood love of comic books. Now she balances her art work with the high-stakes world of Formula 1 as she supports her husband Esteban Ocon through the twists and turns of his own racing career. The Alpine era has ended with the sting of betrayal, a race undriven and a special helmet (designed together) unworn, but the Haas era has just begun. She just had not expected for the 2025 season to bring Esteban a rookie teammate in Ollie Bearman and her a grid little brother to befriend and nurture with snacks and a bear scarf knitted with love.
Notes: Many thanks to my beta reader World Atlas on Discord. They have been an invaluable help. Any remaining mistakes are my own.
Hope everything is going well! Very excited for the next chapter whenever you are able to finish it
Hello, Nonnie! Thank you for the ask. All is well. My PhD is just consuming my life, and I've gotten a dose of writer's block, hence the delay since the last chapter. But we'll get to Baku ... sooner or later.
Summary: After a devastating crash at the WSK Euro Series at La Conca in May 2011 ended her karting career and left her blind in one eye, Saarbrücken racer Annika “Ani” Kramer has reinvented herself as a freelance video game concept artist, inspired by a childhood love of comic books. Now she balances her art work with the high-stakes world of Formula 1 as she supports her husband Esteban Ocon through the twists and turns of his own racing career. The Alpine era has ended with the sting of betrayal, a race undriven and a special helmet (designed together) unworn, but the Haas era has just begun. She just had not expected for the 2025 season to bring Esteban a rookie teammate in Ollie Bearman and her a grid little brother to befriend and nurture with snacks and a bear scarf knitted with love.
Notes: Sorry for another long gap between chapters. My PhD program is taking over my life.
The gap week between two races always followed a particular pattern … generally. Monday was for decompressing—sleep, as much as Este wanted (which could mean 14 hours in bed); unpacking and doing laundry; one meal that wouldn’t fit in any F1 drivers’ diet plan; maybe a walk if the weather was good; and a movie.
Since Ani and Esteban were leaving Geneva for Paris Wednesday morning, the pattern did not fully hold this week. There was as much repacking to do as unpacking, especially since Esteban would not be home again until after Singapore, assuming all went according to plan. From Paris, they would go straight to Everux late in the week for Ani’s doctor’s appointment with Maria and for Esteban’s birthday, and next Wednesday, he would fly to Baku while Ani took the train home.
(Ani still was deeply annoyed with herself over bungling the timing and placement of her doctor’s appointment. Somehow, thinking still slowed by the anemia last month, she hadn’t accounted for the trip home for Esteban’s birthday when making her blood work appointment originally for Geneva, and she had gotten the fun of canceling that and booking a different appointment with Maria. Thankfully, blood work was always quick.)
Between Baku and Singapore, Esteban had at least one day on the sim in Maranello, maybe more, and then a two-day test at Mugello. Then there was the 17-hour flight the Monday and Tuesday of race week, and between everything, Esteban would be bouncing from one task and city to another. Once he left Everux, Ani did not expect to see her husband again until October 5.
It was not a schedule either of them relished.
But basically nothing about F1 schedules were convenient for drivers’ families.
————————————————————————————————
Tuesday, September 9, 2025
There was a vibrating hum echoing out of the kitchen, and it was enough to set Ani’s teeth on edge. She had been heading from their bedroom into the living room where Esteban was sitting on the couch, resting and scrolling on his phone after lunch, but she now detoured abruptly into the kitchen. The fridge compressor was running—that was part of it—but there was an extra, unfamiliar sound layered on top of the familiar one. Not loud enough for Esteban to notice, but loud enough for her to hear two rooms away.
(Sometimes Ani found whatever evolutionary adaption had given her better hearing to replace her lost eye deeply annoying.)
“Voila,” she murmured, three steps into the kitchen. “There you are.”
The problem was immediately obvious. At some point, either she or Esteban had accidentally left the handle of the kettle out of position, and it was now pressed up against the side of the fridge. As soon as Ani shifted it over a centimeter so the two were no longer touching, the noise ceased.
A happier woman, Ani returned to the living room … and promptly ran her knee straight into the arm of the couch. Then she was not happy at all.
“Scheiße.”
Ani stumbled sideways and steadied herself with one hand on the couch arm that she had just collided with.
At least it’s soft. Ish.
Esteban’s head snapped up, and he dropped his phone beside his leg, reaching out a hand toward her. “Tout va bien?”
“Oui,” she replied, taking his hand just long enough to squeeze his fingers before sinking down on the other end of the couch and rubbing her knee. “Better my knee than my toes.”
His gaze dropped to her feet—her bare feet. No slippers. “Ani! That is how you break a toe! Again!”
That hasn’t happened in years.
“I know, I know.” She grinned wryly, shifting so she could tuck her right leg underneath her. Her left leg she stretched out. With the rain that had fallen yesterday, the joint was too achy and sometimes stiff to contort. “Are you awake enough to talk about work?”
He blinked. “Yours?”
“Oui.”
I would like to shake Haas.
Several times in recent weeks.
But that’s a different issue.
Esteban’s face cleared after a moment. “Oh, of course, I remember—you told me last week.” He picked up his phone and set it aside, face down, his attention focused on her.
Ani made a face. “You had other things to occupy you since then. But as to work,” she began, “it’s been two months since I took sick leave.” He nodded. “At this point, I—I think I need to not drag things out further. It’s not fair to the team. I just need to decide.”
“Whether you go back? Or not?” he asked.
“Oui.”
“That’s your decision,” Esteban said immediately without hesitation.
Well, yes, but …
“You’re my husband—you’re still allowed an opinion.”
“I want you healthy, and I want you happy.” His answer was quick enough that Ani suspected Esteban had been thinking about this before in recent weeks. “Beyond that, I would be more comfortable if you weren’t flying back and forth to Poland for now, but the rest has to be your choice.”
Ani was silent for a minute. She stretched out her left leg a little more, pointing her toes until she felt the stretch in the muscle and then returning her foot to a more neutral position.
“What do you want?” Esteban asked.
“I think—” The thoughts lined up relatively clearly in her own head, but trying to verbalize them clearly to him took more work. “I think I want to stop … for now, not forever.”
“Stop working?” he clarified. “For now. Not give up drawing?”
“Oui. Naturlich. I have stickers for Ollie’s helmet to do—I’m not giving that up!”
Esteban nodded. “Why?” He did this sometimes—pushing back gently, not because he needed the answer but because he wanted to ensure she wasn’t making a decision she was going to regret sooner rather than later.
Ani let her head sag sideways against the back of the couch for a few seconds. “The anemia, being sick, the exhaustion, headaches, the mental fog, my shaky hands—it sucked all the fun out of drawing.”
“But you’re feeling better now,” he noted. “From what you’ve told me and the doctors.”
“Physically, yes. Mentally—I’m still tired.”
“Oui.” Not an interruption, just a sign he was following what she was saying.
“And with work … I like work. CD Projekt Red is a good company to work for, but there are deadlines and meetings and quotas and flights and emails and calls. If I stop … I can do what I want when I want. No deadlines. If I’m tired, I can sleep in or take a nap. I don’t have to check my calendar and think about deadlines or quotas or meeting requests.”
“You can draw just because you love to,” Esteban summarized.
“Oui. Exactly. Just for now, not forever.” Ani paused. “Eventually, I will get bored without something structured to do, but for now I want a break.”
There was silence for a minute. Then a smile quirked up one side of his mouth, and his dark eyes flashed with good humor. “Haas pays me well,” he said. “Plenty enough for your yarn budget.”
An answering smile broke across Ani’s face, and she laughed brightly. “I should hope so! My tastes aren’t that expensive. Usually. A few projects excepted.”
Overly expensive yarns rarely appealed to her, an outgrowth of her childhood. Especially for practical things like scarves, she hated the idea of a knitted piece that was supposed to be worn and used and loved being made from yarn so expensive that it felt like a tragedy if it got picked or snagged.
Esteban extended a hand down the couch toward her. “Viens ici.”[1]
It took a moment to shift, but after a little maneuvering, Ani found herself tucked between his legs, half on her side, half on her back, leaning back onto his chest. He wrapped one long arm loosely around her waist, his hand settling on her ribs, warm through the thin fabric of her shirt, and then kissed her hair.
“When we married after COVID, I told you that I would make sure that you never had to work—like Papa and Maman—but that I would not stop you from working if you wanted to. That’s still true. If you want to stop, stop.”
Ani let out a slow breath. “D’accord.” It felt like a bigger step than it really was. “D’accord.”
She had an excellent CV.
CD Projekt Red liked her.
She was not stopping because of a conflict with other staff.
They weren’t going to stand in her way of leaving.
And if later she wanted to re-sign on a new contract or shift to another company, Ani sincerely doubted there would be an issue finding new work. She was respected in the field.
It still felt big—the prospect of not working for the first time since university.
She wasn’t twelve and checking her jean pockets for change to see if she had enough to buy a candy bar for her and Esteban to split.
“Second thoughts, chérie?” Esteban asked a minute later.
Maybe she had sighed.
“No,” she replied. “Just reminding myself that we are no longer teenagers collecting our spare change for extra snacks or candy after races.”
The silence settled back over them comfortably then. Esteban shifted at one point, adjusting position. She wondered if that was her cue to move before his legs went numb, but he just gently tugged her back into position against his chest before she could even half-sit up.
“Este?” she finally said.
“Hmm?”
“You called me chérie.”
There was a long pause.
“I’ve called you that for almost nine years,” Esteban replied slowly, tone baffled.
“But you used to call me ma tempête, too,” Ani noted softly, the pitch of her voice dropping, though she wasn’t sure why.
Esteban went so tense so quickly that she instantly knew she had inadvertently stepped right on a bruise with her question.
She would have had to have been dense to not realize the general shape of the bruise: the slow creeping weight of her anemia that had colored the late spring and the summer and the months that she had spent pulling away from Esteban in the foolishly self-sacrificial attempt (it was easier to see that know) to ‘protect’ him. (Which had only added hurt on top of her illness.) Over the winter, early in the spring, Esteban had called her “ma tempête” like normal, but as her health had declined, so had the use of that nickname declined until it had nearly stopped.
In the last three months, he had probably called her “ma tempête” … three times? Maybe?
In retrospect, Ani could chart it. She just didn’t know why the switch.
He was silent for a minute.
Ani curled her hand over the arm around her waist.
“I didn’t actually ask a question,” she murmured, “so you don’t have to say anything.”
I put my foot in it again.
Nearly two months on, and she was still finding ways that her silence had hurt her husband.
Ani felt her stomach twist.
“Non, c’est bon.”
Not it’s not okay—I can tell by your voice—but if you want to answer …
“I stopped calling you that,” he finally said, “because you weren’t my storm anymore. Not really. Not like when we were kids and you turned into a little storm-cloud because someone turned up his nose at you because you were a girl or because you couldn’t find enough change for chocolate.”
Esteban’s voice took on a raw note. His hand smoothed a path up and down her side. “For months … I watched you fade away, my little whirlwind dimming like a dying light bulb. It was never just your body. The anemia was steeling you away, too, and I couldn’t reach you.”
Ani’s eyes burned, a lump crawling its way into her throat. “Es tut mir leid.” There was something about the formality of German that she always fell back on in situations like this. “Wirklich, Este.”[2]
“Ich weiß.”[3] He kissed her hair, arm tightening around her waist as if on reflex. “Just … don’t ever do that to me again. Please.”
“I won’t, Este.” Her voice shook, and she turned her face as far as she could into his shirt. “I won’t.”
————————————————————————————————
The credits of Spider Man: Far From Home were rolling on the TV as Ani picked up the empty popcorn bowl and the bowl that had held their ice cream and now only had two rattling spoons and a few chocolate stains and carried them into the kitchen. And without running into the couch again, too! (Esteban had the patience to sit through minutes of credits for the promise of the mid- and end-credits scene without “cheating,” as he laughingly put it, and skipping forward. Ani did not, especially not when she had seen them before.) She hit the light switch with her elbow and turned shadows that promised more bruises for her hips into counters again.
Her phone, which she had left charging on the counter after supper, started buzzing with an incoming call as she finished loading the dishwasher. With wet, drippy fingers she awkwardly hit accept-call and then speakerphone, the phone fuzzy in her peripheral vision, but missed who was actually calling.
“Hallo. Das ist Ani.”
“Hi, Ani.” It was Ollie’s voice that she hadn’t heard outside of social media videos since Goodwood in July. He sounded somewhere between awkward and unsure, a riot of muffled noise in the background. He also just sounded exhausted.
“Ollie!” Ani exclaimed, delighted.
“I know it’s late, but do you have a minute?”
“Always for you, petit ours.”
The sound from the TV abruptly cut out, and seconds later, Esteban appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, a questioning look on his face.
“Ollie,” Ani mouthed in the unlikely chance he hadn’t heard the beginning of the conversation and then shrugged to indicate she didn’t know what Ollie needed yet.
“So I—” It was hard to understand every word Ollie was saying … between them both being on speaker phone, it sounded like, and the massive amount of background noise. Ollie was also just rambling, which made his German break down some, but Ani was able to piece together the problem. He had been in England after Monza visiting his family, and now he had been flying back to Nice, but due to the French being the French causing air traffic control issues … combined with a thunderstorm over Nice … Ollie had been diverted.
Somewhere.
“Okay, Ollie. Slowly. Please. Take a deep breath. Where are you right now?”
“Geneva. The airport.”
Ani’s eye widened.
Esteban’s did likewise.
In the moment, it was surprising to realize he was in their city, but it actually wasn’t that surprising, too, given the circumstances he’d described. Geneva was a common divert location. One time she and Esteban had attempted—key word—to fly to Nice from Geneva and, due to issues at the airport, had been diverted straight back to Switzerland. That had been deeply frustrating.
“We are almost to customs. I think?” Ollie continued in a rush. “No one has recognized me—I think—but we are stuck here tonight, and the French and German is super weird, and—” An announcement in the background blurred out his next words.
Esteban disappeared and quickly reappeared with his shoes in one hand and a jacket in the other. He raised an eyebrow as he pulled on his shoes, and Ani nodded instantly, gesturing to the bowl on the counter where keys and other small items were stored. After eight years together, sometimes words were altogether unnecessary.
Ani dried her hands quickly on a towel and picked up her phone, turning off speaker phone and pressing it to her ear. “Okay. Este is going to come pick you up. Once you are past baggage claim, call him.”
Ollie spluttered in her ear. “I was calling about hotel recommendations!! Not asking you to come pick me up at 10!”
With the hand not holding his jacket and keys, Esteban flashed her a 4 and then a 0, his rough estimate of how long he’d be.
Ani nodded and blew him a kiss.
“Ollie,” she continued without missing a beat, “Este and I are not letting you sleep in a hotel when we have an extra bedroom that will be much more comfortable, much quieter, and comes with no risk of being asked for autographs when you’re dead on your feet. Once you’re past baggage claim, call Este!”
“Yes, Ani,” he replied obediently instinctively … before promptly protesting, “But you were sick. I don’t want to—”
Ani cut off that impending spiral. “I’m much stronger than I was in July. You are very much welcome, and I”—her tone turned teasing—“will feed you apple strudel with breakfast.”
I can feed him the rest of what I bought yesterday instead of freezing it. Easy.
“I—that’s bribery!” he protested. Half-heartedly now.
“Is it working?”
“Yes.” Ollie paused a moment. There was a rattle and squeak of wheels. “Are you sure? I meant to ask about hotels, not for a bed for the night.”
“Petit ours, it’s fine, I promise,” Ani replied firmly, her attention slipping partly off his voice in her ear, just for a moment as she started the dishwasher. It always took extra attention to make sure her finger pressed the right buttons to start it and not anything adjacent. “We are flying to Paris tomorrow. It is very easy to give you a place to sleep tonight, feed you, and then tomorrow morning, we can all drive to the airport.”
He heaved a sigh—tired but relieved. “Danke, Ani.”
“Bitte. Immer.”[4]
“And I’ll call Esteban when I’m past baggage claim.”
“Gut. He should be there in about twenty minutes. The traffic shouldn’t be bad this late.”
“Okay.” A pause. “I see customs, so I need both hands.”
“Ja. Naturlich. Call if you need help … or a translator.”
“Okay. Danke, Ani.”
Once Ani hung up the phone with Ollie, her mind ticked over to what few things needed to be done to have a guest staying the night. Tucking her phone into the pocket of her hoodie—well, Esteban’s hoodie that was hers by right of conquest (i.e., more frequent use)—she padded down the hall and flicked on the light in the guest bedroom.
Giant Obbie stared back at her cheerfully from the bed. Their plush roommate had been banished from the living room after dinner, and not expecting a guest, Esteban hadn’t moved him back to the couch yet. Ani briefly considered moving the giant bear herself and just as quickly thought better of it. She had enough trouble on her own some days not running her arms into doorframes and her hips into counters. Trying to maneuver a bear more than half as tall as she was from one room to another on her own was … a recipe for disaster—broken belongings and bruises both.
Este can move him when he gets back. Or Ollie even.
Seeing the bear on his bed might give him a smile, anyway.
The other tasks were quick. A spare toothbrush and a water glass went on the counter in the hall bathroom. Since he was going from home to home, Ollie might not have a toothbrush with him. Ani cracked the window just slightly to air out the bedroom, and finally she changed the pillowcases on the two pillows on the bed. That task took the most time. Trying to get the pillowcases hooked on the end of the pillow took three tries on the first and four tires on the second.
Afterwards, Ani returned to the kitchen, rubbing at her good eye with one hand and then muffling a yawn. (A slight ache was building behind her prosthetic. It was time she took it out for bed, but she wasn’t going to do that before Ollie arrived. He knew she wore a prosthetic eye, but he had never seen the empty socket, and that was not a jolt he needed at this time of night.) She put water in the kettle in case Ollie wanted something hot to drink and then returned to the sofa, curling up at one end to look at her phone.
I can draft the emails for work on the plane tomorrow.
And I can text Karo and Magda once we’re settled at the hotel.
Before she knew it, just when her head was just starting to bob and her eye kept drifting shut, the electronic lock on the front door click sounded. Two sets of footsteps. One rolling suitcase.
“Ich habe einen petit ours mitgebracht,”[5] called Esteban.
Ollie’s voice came then—quietly—saying something in English. Esteban replied in English in that particular tone Ani recognized from when he got asked the same question for not the first or the second time or maybe even the third time and the answer was unchanged. Just with Ollie, he was far less politely put-upon/frustrated than in the occasional media context.
Then, back in German, Esteban added, “Coats and shoes off. Or Ani will fuss.”
Ani rose from the couch and padded toward the door, socked feet quiet on the hard wood. “Ollie?”
“Here, Ani.”
Curls mussed, Ollie looked both half-asleep and wide-awake. It was one of those contradictions that seemed possible only in close proximity to airports and flight delays. He had his shoes off and was just shrugging out of a light jacket as Ani entered the hallway. His face broke into a boyish grin, and he stared at her for a couple of seconds, wide-eyed.
“You look so much better,” he blurted. Horror immediately filled his face, and Ollie’s ears went red as tomatoes. He clearly had not intended to say that out loud.
“And I feel much better, too, now that I am not trying to survive on coffee and vibes,” Ani replied without missing a beat. Internally, she winced at further confirmation that her health issues had indeed been more widely apparent than she would have thought in July.
Ollie finished taking off his jacket—Esteban took it from his hand—and then came a step closer to Ani, his ears still flaming red. “Can I hug you, or …?” his voice trailed off.
Ani smiled. “Naturlich.”
Hugging Ollie was always a little bit like hugging Esteban, if for no other reason than both of them were about 20 centimeters taller than she was and thus had to bend over. Since he was down at her level, anyway, Ani kissed Ollie’s forehead before she released him.
“Logistics first, and then you can sleep,” she said. Her eyes flicked to Esteban for a moment. “Este, one of you needs to move Giant Obbie off of the bed so Ollie actually has a place to sleep.”
Ollie’s face lit up with glee. “I can! I want to see.”
Ani’s smile turned even more fond. “Okay. When is your flight tomorrow?” she asked as Esteban picked up Ollie’s suitcase and they started down the hallway.
“Like …”—his nose wrinkled—“11:30? I can check?”
She shook her head. “No, that’s close enough.”
That’s about when our flight is leaving.
In the guest bedroom, once he had set down his backpack, Ollie laughed at the sight of Giant Obbie sprawled across the bed, grinning like it was the best thing he had seen all day. “Where should I …?”
“The couch,” called Esteban from the hallway. He had set Ollie’s suitcase down and then stepped out.
Ollie picked the bear up, gave him a squeeze, and then lugged him down the hall to the living room.
Once he returned, Ani said, “There is a glass and toothbrush in the bathroom. The kettle is full if you want something to drink, and there is tea, mugs, and snacks in the cabinet above. I cannot see in the dark, so there are night-lights and LED strips literally everywhere. You should be able to navigate, even if you can’t find a light-switch.”
“I remember,” Ollie said softly, “from testing.”
Ani smiled and took a half step back toward the door. “Este and I are down the hall. If the door is open, feel free to knock if you can’t find anything. Otherwise, good night. I’ll make Este come tell you when the car will pick us up for the airport, and if you’re not out when breakfast is ready in the morning, one of us will knock.”
Ollie nodded. “Danke, Ani. Good night.”
————————————————————————————————
————————————————————————————————
Esteban hated early mornings. Especially when they required alarms. He could happily sleep 14 hours a night, and without an on-track session to keep him moving, well, he could get moving incredibly slowly in the morning.
Ollie also hated mornings with a deep passion. In that, they were two peas in a pod, as the saying went.
For Ani, Wednesday morning was thus a little like herding cats.
Large, lanky cats.
Friendly but sleepy.
Who needed coffee poured into them.
Who needed to be reminded at least twice to make sure they had phones and chargers and passports and all those things that you either could not get to another country without or that would make you hate your life if you did misplace them.
At breakfast, Ollie peered at her over his plate of eggs and slice of apple strudel that he had declared one of his new favorite foods after only the first bite. “No coffee?” he asked.
Ani, swallowing her pills because there was only time to take them with breakfast today, shook her head. “Trying to survive this year on coffee and vibes meant that I was actually addicted to it. Este can testify to how grumpy I was after Goodwood. No more coffee—not for a while.”
Ollie’s eyes widened, and he looked vaguely horrified on her behalf. “Rude,” he muttered through a mouthful of food.
Ani raised an eyebrow, and Ollie shut his mouth abruptly and kept chewing.
Esteban—out of Ollie’s direct line of sight—grinned.
————————————————————————————————
They parted ways outside the Departure Hall after the taxi dropped them off. GlobeAir flying them to Paris meant that Esteban and Ani did not have to navigate check-in or security, but Ollie, flying with EasyJet, unfortunately did.
“When do you think you might be back?” asked Ollie hopefully after he had hugged Ani.
“Not before Qatar,” she replied. “The flights are too long for American races. Especially right now.”
Ollie nodded, scuffed one foot on the concrete. “It’s not the same without you there. Alicia says so too.”
Ani blinked, momentarily nonplussed. She rarely spoke to Alicia. Not that she had anything against the younger woman, but conversations that relied entirely on Google Translate were exhausting, and Esteban or Ollie were generally too busy to play translator. “It has been very strange. I miss being there.”
Ollie nodded again and turned to Esteban. “Happy birthday early. I’ll see you next week.”
“Thanks, mate.”
————————————————————————————————
The flight from Geneva to Paris was short, and by 2pm, Esteban and Ani were installed in a room in the InterContinental Paris LeGrand with a balcony that overlooked the Opéra Garnier, a view that made Ani’s fingers itch. This type of elaborate architecture had never been her forte, but there was something about the opera house that begged to be captured, at least in picture.
The next couple of days blurred into a series of appointments that left Esteban bouncing around Paris and the countryside and made Ani tired just watching him.
There was a trip to Le Mans to use the WEC simulator and meet with some kid from some academy.[6]
A dentist appointment.
Social media work relating to the launch of his merch for the race in Brazil and to his helmet contest.[7] (Ani was still amazed by the sheer number of designs and the jaw-dropping creativity and passion that had gone into them all, even the ones by more amateur artists. It was going to be an extremely tough choice for Esteban to pick the winner.)
There were other photo shoots as well, which Ani watched from behind the camera. (Any other year, if she had been more smartly dressed, she might have agreed to take a picture or two with Esteban but not this summer.)
And then on Sunday, it was finally time to go home again.
Papa Laurent.
Maman Sabrina.
Iris.
Everux.
————————————————————————————————
Pic (9 of 9): A woman, wearing a unfastened brown leather jacket that hangs loosely on her, is leaning against a wrought-iron balcony railing. A thick French brain of dark brown hair hangs nearly to her waist. The picture has been taken from behind, and an edge of a balcony curtain intrudes on one edge of the frame. Beyond the balcony is the Opera Garnier Paris.
@BearconRules: “ANI 😭💙”
@OconHive: “Looking cozy! That’s too big to be her jacket.”
@thebearman: “So glad to see her.”
@TeamHaasForever: “See! She’s fine. Twitter was being dramatic. Like always”
@PaddockTea: “He’s hiding something. If he loves her so much, why is she photo 9?”
@ProtectBearcon: “Does she look different? Maybe she’s been sick”
@Haasterplan: “OMG She’s back! The queen returns!”
@suitedandbooted:: “So she goes to Paris and poses for photo but doesn’t come to any of the last four races … 🐟”
Summary: After a devastating crash at the WSK Euro Series at La Conca in May 2011 ended her karting career and left her blind in one eye, Saarbrücken racer Annika “Ani” Kramer has reinvented herself as a freelance video game concept artist, inspired by a childhood love of comic books. Now she balances her art work with the high-stakes world of Formula 1 as she supports her husband Esteban Ocon through the twists and turns of his own racing career. The Alpine era has ended with the sting of betrayal, a race undriven and a special helmet (designed together) unworn, but the Haas era has just begun. She just had not expected for the 2025 season to bring Esteban a rookie teammate in Ollie Bearman and her a grid little brother to befriend and nurture with snacks and a bear scarf knitted with love.
Notes: Apologies for the delay since the last chapter. My brain has not been braining, and I'm also a PhD student, so sometimes my spare time gets eaten up by that.
Ani: Pic: Giant Obbie sitting on the end of a couch, back propped up against the arm, a knitted blanket tucked over its feet. 09:27
Maman Sabrina: ❤️❤️ 09:30
Maman Sabrina: Is that from Lulu? 09:31
Ani: Non. From Ollie. My belated birthday present. He gave it to Este in Zandvoort last week, and Este brought it home to me yesterday 09:32
Ani: It’s one of his merch items. Just … scaled up to roommate size 09:33
Maman Sabrina: How big is it? 09:33
Ani: Half as tall as Este. LITERALLY. The original, like I have on my nightstand, is like 12 cm 09:34
Maman Sabrina: Oh, my. It’s adorable, Ani. Ollie is a very sweet boy. 09:35
————————————————————————————————
Ollie 🧸
Mon, Sept 1
Ani: Pic: Giant Obbie sitting on the end of a couch, back propped up against the arm, a knitted blanket tucked over its feet. 09:28
Ollie: ❗❗❗❗ 10:02
Ollie: Do you like him? 10:03
Ani: I love him, petit ours. You gave me a new roommate! And one less prone to mischief than Iris! 10:03
Ani: He’ll keep me company while Este is gone. For now we’re calling him “Giant Obbie” until I come up with a better name. 10:04
Ani: I’m going to make him a scarf. Just like yours so he doesn’t get cold. 10:05
Ollie: Obbie gets his own scarf! You have to send me a pic when you finish it! PLEASE!!!!! 10:07
Ani: I will 10:08
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Esteban’s hand combed gently through Ani’s hair, fingers scratching gently at her scalp, his thumb stroking the soft skin behind her ear. Tonight, for once, her hair was loose. He loved her hair and, after supper, had coaxed her into undoing her braid before they settled down on the couch to watch a movie. She had agreed—not that it took much convincing. The movie had finished some time ago, and if Ani bothered to roll over, she’d see a simpler screen now, Netflix asking if they were still watching. (They were not.) She was curled up on her left side, head on Esteban’s thigh, eye closed and pleasantly heavy.
His voice eventually broke the silence of the room, fingers stilling momentarily in her hair. “You said earlier you wanted to take a bath before bed.”
Oh, I did say that.
Ani made a noise low in her throat, curling closer to him, her eye drooping shut again every time she half dragged it open. The cloth of his sweatpants was soft beneath her cheek. “That would require moving,” she protested.
This is nice. I don’t want to move.
Esteban snorted wryly but not unsympathetically. “You have to move to go to bed, Ani. If I leave you to sleep here, you—your back, your knee, your hip, well, everything—will hate me in the morning.”
“Only a little,” she muttered. “It keeps you humble.”
He laughed at that. His hand slipped from her hair—gently, carefully, without catching and tugging any of the strands—to her shoulder. “Bath. It won’t take long, and you’ll be even drowsier and ready to sleep by the end.”
Ani half-shook her head and only succeeded at pressing her forehead into his thigh. “I’m too tired. I might fall asleep.”
“I’ll sit with you,” was Esteban’s immediate offer.
“It’s alright. The floor’s too hard,” she replied. (The edge of the bathtub was not wide enough to sit on. The toilet lid was not made for long-term sitting, and the floor was too hard and too cold to sit on.) “I don’t want—” to be a bother. The thought only slipped part way out before her brain caught up to her tongue and she cut herself off mid-sentence.
Ani had said those words often enough to him in Everux, and he seemed to know the shape of her thought now, but he did not sigh or fuss at her or even flinch. “You’re not,” was all he said at first, and his hand returned to her hair, long fingers combing through the dark strands. “Do you want to take a bath?”
She nodded slightly, feeling l the slight itch of dried sweat on her skin from their walk earlier. The high had been a mere 21 C this afternoon, but she still tired easily when out, and although her stamina was improving, even an afternoon walk left her sweaty.
Esteban bent at the waist, somehow contorting himself enough to press a kiss to the side of her forehead. “Then a bath you shall have. My helmet competition closed today. While you soak, I can tell you about the submissions—thousands of them—since I’ll need your help choosing, anyway.”
“If you do something to your back sitting on the bathroom floor,” she said as they walked down the hallway, keeping herself tucked into his side both because she liked it and because she was drooping, “I’m not explaining it to Tom.”
He laughed. “What Tom doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
————————————————————————————————
Transcript: “While this video is called wives and girlfriends, there are only two wives involved this year. The first is Esteban Ocon’s lovely wife, Annika Kramer, known as Ani to all her friends. The pair married in late 2020, not that anyone knew until they arrived in the Bahrain paddock for testing in March wearing wedding rings to everyone’s surprise. Having karted as a child, before a crash ended her career, and having grown up with much of the current grid, Ani has a deep understanding of motorsports. She works as an artist for a video game company in Poland and has only a small social media following.”[1]
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Wednesday, September 3, 2025
Ani’s first realization as she slowly started to emerge from the fog of sleep was that she was hugging something fuzzy. And of all the adjectives she could have used to describe Esteban, fuzzy was not one of them and had never been one of them. His hair was shaggy. His chest was firm. His whiskers were prickly. His shirts were soft. His hands were lean and strong. Nothing about him was fuzzy.
She cracked her eye open. Giant Obbie had been transported from the couch (where he had been when they went to bed last night) to bed and had been tucked in under the covers where Esteban had been sleeping last time she was awake. Her arm was wrapped around its waist, hand curled loosely around one fuzzy paw, and its head was near her chin.
Well, that explains the fuzzies—I’m hugging it like a body pillow.
Ani opened her eye all the way and glanced around the room. The curtains were still drawn, letting in only a few shafts of sunlight and leaving the room rather dim. The bathroom light was on, but the door was mostly shut, giving out just enough light by which … Esteban was packing quietly. His main suitcase was open on the floor as out of the walking path as was possible, and he was crouched next to it, a stack of clothes in hand, his back to her and the bed.
It was like deja vu of Hungary.
“If you’ve shaved again, I’m going to call you Mowgli for a month this time,” said Ani, voice thick with fading sleep.
Clothes plopped into the suitcase as Esteban jumped. “Ani!” he protested and then began to laugh. One hand on his knee, he pushed himself to his feet and turned toward the bed. “I have not shaved.”
“I can see that,” she replied, rolling onto her back.
Esteban came around the end of the bed and took a seat by her hip, taking her hand when Ani reached for him and threading their fingers together. “It’s almost 10,” he said, “before you ask. I wanted to let you sleep, and by now, you can miss your pills for one morning.”
Ani scrubbed the sleep from her eye with her other hand. There was a slight ache behind her forehead, behind both eye sockets, the heaviness of her limbs that testified to a late night and hard sleep. “That’s what we get for saying one more to Netflix that late,” she noted dryly with a snort of laughter. “Are you okay? You need more sleep than I do.”
Esteban raised an eyebrow. “Until you’re well, I think we are equal, and I’m fine.” He squeezed her hand and then leaned down and kissed her forehead, whiskers brushing against her skin. “Do you need me to bring you anything?”
She shook her head. “I’m fine, Este. Keep packing—I’ll move in a minute … or two … or five.”
That brought another smile to his face … as intended.
After a few minutes, Ani gave Giant Obbie another squeeze and then sat up, the covers pooling around her waist. “He’s multiplying functions by the day—roommate, furniture, now fuzzy body pillow.”
A snort of laughter emerged from the bathroom, amid the low clatter of whatever Esteban was gathering.
The floor was cold underneath her toes as Ani swung her legs over the side of the bed and searched for her slippers by feel. She hissed and found them on the second try.
“Tout va bien?” his voice didn’t sound alarmed—not yet.
“I’m fine, Este. The floor’s cold.”
Ani padded over to the wardrobe and began to change clothes. She was no longer sick enough to tolerate in herself staying in her pajamas all day. Changing clothes helped her get back into the mental habits of normalcy, not just sickness.
“Make sure you eat something,” said Esteban a few minutes later as she was sitting on the end of the bed, pulling on socks. (Third try was the charm to get the end hooked over her foot.) As a child, she would have just balanced on one foot (and delighted in showing off how long she could stand on one foot) but not anymore.
Ani’s gaze flicked up from her socks, the black blacker against the white of her skin, untanned by sun. “I will as soon as I change, Este.”
Fifteen minutes later, when she was in the kitchen making tea—she still hadn’t touched coffee since her diagnosis, both because of the anemia and for fear of becoming reliant on it again—Esteban appeared looking for his phone charger.
“Is it … next week that you have your doctor’s appointment or the week after?” he asked once Ani had untangled the cord from her own charger and pushed it across the counter to him.
“The 15th—Monday afternoon. Before we leave for Everux for your birthday.”
“Okay.” Esteban nodded, then promptly frowned at his phone. “Why did I not put that on my calendar?”
“It’s in your texts. Monday the 15th, 2pm.”
He typed quickly. “There. Good. Merci, chérie.”
Ani happily accepted the proffered kiss to her cheek. “De rien.”
“What are your plans for the week?” Esteban asked much later, once his suitcase and backpack were by the front door and they had sat down to lunch. Well, he was eating lunch. Ani, after a very late breakfast, was eating more of a snack.
“Make schnitzel, start Giant Obbie’s scarf”—she counted the tasks off on her fingers, pausing to gesture toward the living room to which the bear had been return—“and video-call Magda at some point. She wants proof that Giant Obbie is really as big as his picture indicates.”
Esteban grinned. “Ollie told me in the car that he had a present for you, but you should have seen my face when he appeared in my hotel room carrying that.”
Ani nearly choked on a laugh and a bite of tartine both. When she had washed it down with a sip of tea, she replied, “I can imagine. That is … the biggest bear I have ever seen in my life.”
“As Ollie said, ‘I may have overdone it.’”
She shook her head, smiling, “Petit ours m'a envoyé un gros ours.”[2]
“That he did.”
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Magda
Wed, Sept 3
Magda: So have you all heard all the talk today about Domenicali’s latest brilliant ideas?[3] 11:22
Ani: I haven’t been looking at sports news today, but I can guess what you saw from what Este’s been telling me recently. 11:37
Magda: Less free practice. MORE sprints. Shorter races. Moto-GP style whatever 11:38
Magda: If some people don’t have the “attention span” for a whole race, watch the highlights. Don’t punish the rest of us, ffs. 11:39
Magda: Although, I admit, I’d love to see your Esteban get pole in a reverse grid. 11:40
Ani: I would like to see Este on pole, too!!!!! As to the rest of it, Este has opinions, which I share. 11:42
Magda: Oh? 👀 Do tell 11:43
Ani: Having sprints every weekend like MotoGP would be too extreme.[4] And the rest risks pandering to consumerist culture. So … patience. 11:45
Ani: I’d say more, but I need to start lunch before Este leaves for Monza. 11:46
Magda: So Colton Herta is going to be Cadillac’s new test driver.[5] Twitter thinks this is very interesting. Should I care? 17:57
Ani: He’s a good IndyCar driver. There have been rumors he wants to switch, though he’s a bit old. I find it mildly interesting. You probably wouldn’t care. 18:02
Magda: Interesting. How are you feeling? 18:11
Ani: Slowly improving. Too slowly for my liking 18:12
Ani: Sometimes I push too hard, too fast, and Este fusses. But I’ve been getting bored … which is progress. I actually feel well enough to be bored. 18:13
Ani: And I’ve got some new projects just for fun that I actually want to do … so also progress 18:14
Magda: !!!! 18:15
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Este 🕷️
Wed, Sept 1
Ani: I meant to tell you at lunch, but I forgot. When you’re back next week, I want to talk about work. Just a heads up. 14:41
Ani: Let me know when you’re in Monza. 14:42
Esteban: At the hotel 16:07
Esteban: Ollie says hi. As do Tom and Michel. And Lance nearly died laughing when I showed him a picture of Giant Obbie. 16:21
Ani: 🤣 16:22
Ani: At some point, I need to find a better name than “Giant Obbie.” It’s more of a descriptor than a name. 16:23
Ani: Are you and Ollie planning another road trip, or was that just last week? 16:25
Esteban: Just last week, I think. Ollie hasn’t mentioned anything 16:26
Esteban: We’re going to the track together soon. But that’s it 16:27
Ani: 👍 16:30
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Magda
Thur, Sept 4
Ani: Note to self: Don’t watch https://www.instagram.com/reels/DOLIzUTiHai/ while eating breakfast 09:37
Magda: 🤢 Who thought the tilt-a-whirl effects were a good idea? Seriously?? 09:40
Magda: On another topic, Karo and I have been wondering—and some people at the office have been asking—when you might be coming back to work. 09:44
Ani: I … don’t know yet. I need to talk to Este once he’s back from Monza. Once I’ve decided, you two will be the first to know. 09:49
Magda: No pressure, just … we miss you 09:50
Magda: You make meetings more tolerable! 09:51
Ani: Not sure whether I should say that’s high praise. Or a low standard 🤣🤣 09:52
Magda: It’s meant with fondness equal to my hatred of HR seminars and ‘ice-breakers.’ 09:57
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Este 🕷️
Thur, Sept 4
Ani: Did you forget your sunglasses? Because you look like you’re squinting into the sun in every photo of you I’ve seen so far this morning. 10:07
Esteban: Yes. I checked both bags and my entire hotel room before we left. I must have left them at home. 10:10
Ani: You did. Just found them on the dresser I’ve moved them to your nightstand. 10:15
Esteban: Merci, chérie 10:15
Ani: And you looked very handsome in that outfit![6] You ditching the hair gel was one of the best parts of this year. 🤌 Alongside you regrowing your whiskers. 10:21
Esteban: 🤣 10:22
Esteban: You know, you told me two days ago that you were too tired to flirt. 10:23
Ani: I still have eyes! And Este + hair gel = a crime 10:26
Esteban: Oh, the question of the morning was go-to pizza toppings.[7] 11:47
Ani: Easy: cheese, cheese, and more cheese 11:47
Esteban: And prosciutto 11:47
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@estebanocon: “The Temple of Speed 🇮🇹”
[Panda Ollie and Spider Bear are perched precariously on the steep slope of the abandoned banking on the original Monza Circuit.]
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Magda
Thur, Sept 4
Magda: Your Esteban’s teammate makes very interesting faces:[8]
Ani: He’s 20. And really plays off whoever he’s with. And much less media-trained. So … yes 16:05
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Friday, September 5, 2025
Mornings were always strangely quiet when Esteban was away, especially now in the weeks after Ani had been ill. Whatever he was doing, he always tried to be quiet when he got up before her but did not always succeed. At home, with nothing pressing on her schedule until FP1, there was also no need for an alarm. After months of driving herself to the brink, of burning the candle at both ends, trying to support Esteban—and Lance and Ollie—and manage work while her health was collapsing, it was … refreshing for Ani to be able to just … slow down and do what she wanted when she wanted. If she felt like sleeping in, she could. If she wanted a nap, she could have one. If she wanted to spend a couple hours idly sketching or brainstorming stickers for Ollie’s helmet, she could without any worries about work deadlines. If she wanted to make schnitzel, she could make schnitzel without worrying about cooking time either.
Eventually, Ani knew, she would probably get bored with no routines, no schedule, but for now it was … freeing.
Over a late breakfast, after taking her iron pills and grimacing at the taste, Ani reviewed the morning F1 news. Haas’ photo of the flowers near the sign at the entrance to the circuit was lovely.[9] Monaco had been renewed until 2035. Better for optics and money than racing. And Kym Illman was musing whether, since Ollie had made the podium in Monza in 2023 and 2024, he would make it a three-peat this year. Unlikely. Very unlikely.
FP1 was not until 1:30pm today, which left Ani at leisure for a few hours.
Her brain latched onto Giant Obbie’s need for a scarf, so she spent that time finding the pattern she had used for Ollie’s scarf earlier in the year, digging out and organizing the yarn she would need, and ensuring she had the right length of yarn for every color. There was even time to knit a few rows before she stopped to make lunch.
Just before the lights went green, Ani settled down on the couch, tucking her legs up and to the side and pulling the blanket down over her. She kept nibbling the last of her almonds and dried apricots from lunch (something crunchy and something chewy, and both high in iron), as she turned the TV on.
Monza always made for an interesting weekend. Nicknamed the “Temple of Speed,” the track had been used for motor-racing since the 1920s. F1 had raced there, except for only one year, since 1950.[10] It was a perilous circuit with the wrong set-up, and cars were all set-up much differently here than other tracks, with rear wings so small they barely existed. It was one of a kind.
The lights went green.
McLaren and Alpine each had one rookie sub in this session, Dunne for Oscar and Aron for Colapinto.
The Saubers and one of the McLarens went out first, with Esteban and Ollie out within the first minute, too. A VSC was ongoing as cars started exiting the pits—has to be a test, I think—but that was quickly concluded.
Ferrari desperately needed a good weekend to bounce back after their double DNF last week, especially in Monza of all places. Lewis was the first of the Ferraris to head out. His weekend was going to be complicated by a 5-place grid drop hanging over his head from Zandvoort. Ani had never seen footage of the incident but had read it had to do with not slowing properly during the double yellows during the reconnaissance laps prior to the race.
The McLaren—Dunne—was the first to set a time several minutes in, setting a 1:24.686. Esteban set his first lap twenty seconds later, 11/1000ths slower.
Slower than a rookie … but slower than a rookie in a MCLAREN.
And only 11/1000ths—I’ll take it.
Ollie’s first lap was less good, eight-tenths slower than Esteban. He had gone marginally faster in Sector 1, but Sectors 2 and 3 had killed his time.
I wonder what happened.
The front-runners started setting times. Max with a 1:22.6. Lewis, four tenths faster.
Lance was in the top five, but the live-blog Ani had open on her phone was talking about him complaining over the radio about helmet lift. She grimaced when she read that, shifting so she was half laying down against the couch pillows and shaking out the pins-and-needles in one leg. Helmet lift—she remembered that a little from her years karting. It was deeply annoying and deeply unpleasant.
Several minutes later, Alex … in a Williams … catapulted himself up to P1 ahead of Lando and Max with a 1:21.4.
Ani goggled at the screen. “How?!”
He must have gotten a tow.
And he’s on hards!
Ollie and Esteban dropped down the order as faster cars set their times.
Max reclaimed P1 with a 1:21.1, only to lose it again to Alex two minutes later.
Okay, the Williams likes this track … so far.
Nineteen minutes into the session, Ollie and Esteban pitted in quick succession after doing ten laps each on their mediums. It had been a fairly uneventful first twenty minutes, cars experimenting with set-ups and gathering data, … until there was a lengthy yellow flag when Aron had a moment at the second chicane.
The track began to go quiet after that until, by nearly halfway through the session, only Lawson and Carlos were out on track. Pit-lane cameras briefly showed Ollie in the garage, and Ani smiled and used the momentary distraction to remind herself to drink another few sips of water.
Cars began to leave the pits … on softs.
Quite early for that.
The McLarens were first out, then Ollie and Lance (among other cars) in quick succession several minutes later and Esteban two minutes after them.
No one’s soft tires runs seemed to be ideal. Lando backed out of his lap. Max was complaining on a broadcasted radio clip—Ani could easily understand the tone, though not the words. Ollie’s second and third sectors were both … yellow … compared to his mediums runs.
Okay, that I did not expect.
And these are C5s, not those awful C6s.
Twenty-five minutes to go. Esteban had just begun a fast lap when a red flag was thrown. No one had stopped on track, but Hadjar had gone wide at Ascari, and the cameras showed gravel … lots of gravel … all over the racing line. Eight minutes of the session were eaten up while that was cleared, but by the time it resumed, Charles had been cleared of a potential red-flag infringement from being on a fast lap when the red flag was thrown and, thus, being unable to slow fast enough to keep from overtaking a Sauber on a slow lap.
He could have put his foot through the floor, and he still wouldn’t have been able to stop in time.
Lance, Esteban, and Ollie were among the cars that left the pits first once the session resumed. More fast laps (still on softs for all three) came in, but none of the times were spectacular, not for Monza. 1:21.2 for Lance, 1:21.9 for Esteban (one yellow sector), 1:22.0 for Ollie (two yellow sectors). No one so far today seemed able to fully dial in the tires.
Ollie pitted. Esteban continued and did one more lap before pitting, too, but even a gain of about three-and-a-half tenths only pulled him up to P17.
Five minutes to go, and Lewis was in P1 with a 1:20.1.
Although in most sessions, teams would have switched to long runs, some cars will still doing fast laps due to the red flag.
With 35 seconds to go in the session, a VSC began, and this time it wasn’t a test. George had pulled to the edge of the track, and when he climbed from his car, that ended the hope of practice starts.
The chequered flag fell.
It was a Ferrari 1-2, which looked good at Monza, and Carlos was in P3, fittingly. P5 for Lance, P17 for Esteban, and P19 for Ollie.
Aston Martin is looking okay so far.
Haas … has some work to do.
————————————————————————————————
@BearconRules: “Okay, this is getting super weird. Ani’s skipped four weekends in a row now: Belgium, Hungary, Zandvoort, and Monza. She never misses European races like this.”
@SpideyRacer: “She hasn’t posted since Austria either, and nobody has talked about seeing her since Goodwood, and that was mid-July! His b-day photo of her was from karts.”
@Haasterplan: “Maybe, it’s WORK. For a WAG, Ani is actually normal and has like, you know, a real job, not just smiling on IG and making us all want to buy new stuff.”
@OconHive: “Or maybe she’s sick.”
@SpideyRacer: “It is weird timing that Esteban skipped media day in Spa. His ‘personal reasons’ could easily have had to do with her.”
@BearconRules: “Well, that could explain Spa, but what about Hungary and Zandvoort and Monza???”
@Haasterplan: “Or, news flash, she’s just keeping her head down because she’s tired of weirdos speculating about literally EVERYTHING!”
@Catstappen:: “Or he dumped her…”
@Haasterplan: “You would have to be blind and a complete moron to believe that. He adores her.”
@PaddockTea: “Ani isn’t that active on social media generally, but what’s weird is that Esteban barely posted anything from summer break.”
@suitedandbooted: “Maybe he finally told her to stay home so he can focus 💀”
@PaddockTea: “Don’t be an ass.”
————————————————————————————————
As an adult and as an adult recovering from a health crisis, Ani had a deep and abiding appreciation for leftovers. She had cooked several meals worth of schnitzel Thursday evening, which meant that today she did not have to worry about cooking between FP1 and FP2 or have to delay dinner long enough after FP2 to either cook or go out.
FP2 began at 5pm. George (who had stopped on track at the end of FP1) and Oscar (who had not run at all) were the first two in the queue, with Esteban and Ollie, both on hards, slightly farther back. Again, the session began with a VSC test, which puzzled Ani.
Why did the system need two tests in the same day?
Ani shifted into a better position that let her sprawl comfortably on the couch without leaving her at an angle that required her to crane her neck to see the TV with her one good eye, shoving a pillow under her left knee for good measure. All the rain yesterday had left it aching, and the pain lingered. A throw blanket was tucked over her feet and ankles (because anemia-cold in her hands and feet still lingered, although overall full-body chill was lessening) but not over her legs because it was actually sunny today and the living room had gotten a little warm.
George was the first to set a time, a 1:21.735 that was quickly surpassed by Bortoleto and then by Alex. Esteban and Ollie both did an extra build lap after their out-lap, before starting their first flying laps. Esteban set a 1:22.1 and Ollie a 1:22.0—slow, but they were on hards, and the session had only been running for five minutes.
A swipe of her finger updated the live-blog on her phone, and Ani made a face when she read the latest post. Oscar’s car had a cracked mirror, and Lando had lost one mirror entirely.
“Oops,” she murmured.
Regardless of that issue, Oscar put himself into P1 with a 1:21.2, five-hundredths faster that Max, but Lando surpassed his teammate’s time two minutes later.
Esteban’s next fast-lap was a little over three-tenths faster and good enough for P10. Ollie, however, only found two-hundredths. Both of his first two sectors had been yellow.
The session ground to a halt less than a minute later. Yellows had already been flying in one sector—Ani wasn’t sure why—but now yellows became red. She had pushed herself up onto her elbow at first but relaxed when the cameras switched views and showed the cause. Kimi was beached in the gravel just past Turn 7.
“Not ideal,” she muttered to herself.
FP2 was important for race runs, and losing a car for data gathering for almost the entire session was … not good. And it was especially bad timing for Kimi since he had beached himself in Zandvoort last week, too.
This red flag was short and with 45:00 minutes left on the clock, the session resumed. Cars poured out of the pits. Esteban and Ollie were still on their hards, and Lance was still on his mediums.
“That McLaren does not look good here,” Ani muttered, eye fixed on the screen some minutes later.
They were also unlucky. Oscar had been noted for a potential red-flag infringement and was also stuck in the garage with … a seat issue, and Lando kept backing out of fast lap after fast lap.
Williams was looking solid, though. An infographic on the screen noted that the team had scored 80 points so far this season, which almost equaled all their points from the previous SEVEN seasons combined.
Around halfway through the session, cars started switching to softs for their quali sims. Lando climbed to the top quickly. The pace was there when McLaren managed to put a good lap together, but he had barely managed to hang onto to it at the Variante della Roggia.[11] Nico went P2 in quick succession three-and-a-half tenths back.
Esteban and Ollie’s first laps both put them solidly into the top 10, a 1:20.6 and a 1:20.8, although they fell down the order as more cars—like Lewis and Oscar—set their times. Still a good start. Their second soft-tire runs were … less remarkable. Ollie found two-tenths which put him back just shy of the top 10, but Esteban’s time was over half a second slower, with yellows across the board.
Ani made a face at the TV.
Did he get impeded?
Are his tires in the wrong window?
Did Haas switch a setting??
The two pitted again, and when they emerged six minutes later with sixteen minutes on the clock, it was time for high-fuel runs. They were back on hards.
Ani let her attention wander now—to her email and texts from Magda and Karo—and the final minutes of the session ticked by quickly. The chequered flag fell. Williams had found its way to the Top 3 with Carlos behind Lando and Charles. Lance was P13, Ollie P14. Esteban was P16 but only 0.047 behind Ollie.
I’ll take that differential.
But Haas needs to find some pace if Ollie and Este are going to be anywhere tomorrow.
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Este 🕷️
Sat, Sept 6
Ani: Sorry to miss your messages last night. I fell asleep on the couch knitting. Bestirring myself to our actual bed for a few more hours. Ich liebe dich. 06:03
Esteban: I’m up 09:01
Esteban: I suspected as much. Your phone was still at home. 09:02
Esteban: I am told there will be basketball at the fanstage.[12] You can laugh at us when you wake up. 10:12
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Saturday, September 6, 2025
Morning was more abrupt today.
Ani had not intended to fall asleep on the couch, knitting in her lap, and miss all of Esteban’s evening texts—and a few from Ollie and Lance, too. She had certainly not intended to sleep until 6am, when the ache in her back and crick in her neck roused her enough to make her remember that maybe, just maybe, she should go sleep in her actual bed. By the time she had taken pain meds for her protesting muscles and had gotten comfortable enough in bed to doze off again, it was nearly 8am. By the time she woke up again, the clock read 10:52am.
That gave Ani a jolt.
She flew through her morning routine, taking her pills and eating a small breakfast, dealing with her eye, putting the sheets in the washing machine, reading messages from last night, and checking F1 news. Judging by his texts, Lance didn’t seem hopeful for the rest of the weekend. Ollie and Esteban were both pleased with the improvement of the car from FP1 to FP2 but said they still needed more pace for a successful quali.
Also need good timing … and a tow if you’re lucky.
By 12:15pm, Ani had also moved the sheets to the dryer, put the towels in the washing machine, swept the kitchen floor, and acquired a bruise on her hip that was sure to be livid from backing into the point of the counter like an idiot. There was just enough time, then, to use the bathroom and get water and a snack before getting comfortable on the couch. After FP3 would be lunch and more knitting and then qualifying.
A nice quiet Saturday at home with just enough adulting to get me off the couch without exhausting me.
FP3 began at 12:30.
Yesterday, it was Sauber that had the fastest straight-line speed, so said the reports, and Nico was the first car out of the pits as the lights went green. The session otherwise began slowly. Lance and Fernando went out to scrub tires, first hards and then mediums. Nico pitted after one installation lap without setting a time. Alpine were the first cars out the actually set time, but Ani paid little attention to them.
Finally, about ten minutes in, cars started leaving the pits in earnest. Oscar. Then the Ferraris. Then Esteban and Ollie on mediums. There were even some cars on softs!
An Alpine went top. Then Yuki.
Esteban’s first lap put him into P4, but it was slow. Multiple cars, including Ollie, did an extra build lap. More cars set lap, but even Oscar was only P3 before being displaced by Kimi seconds later. Esteban pitted after a single lap, which had Ani raising an eyebrow. And then, finally, fifteen minutes in, Ollie set his first lap—a 1:21.9, faster in all three sectors than Esteban’s 1:22.4, especially in Sectors 1 and 3.
Okayyyyy …
I don’t like that.
But conditions are tricky.
There’s gravel. And wind.
Barely anyone’s gotten through the first chicane cleanly.
Lance’s first time was only good enough for P15.
Ollie found four-tenths on his second run.
Yuki was on hards, but Max came out on softs. On his first fast-lap, he went straight to the top with a 1:20.040 … only 0.014 faster than Charles’ fast lap on mediums. Given it was Max driving, that said something good about the Ferrari and bad about Red Bull’s car this year.
Forty minutes to go, and Esteban left the pits again. The timing sheets said he was on mediums still. A minute later, Ollie pitted. The cameras gave Ani a reasonably good look at Haas’ car for this weekend. The front wing looked … pretty high, and the rear wing had … double beams.
They’re focusing on race pace then.
Esteban’s second lap was much better—1.3 seconds better than his first lap and more than four-tenths faster than Ollie’s latest lap. The string of 1s in his 1:21.111 also made Ani giggle. In a sport measured to the thousandth of a second, it was amusing how numbers could line up into such patterns.
The data from the latest speed trap appeared on screen. Unsurprisingly in the top five fastest cars of the session so far were the Red Bulls and the Ferrari, but in P2 behind Max was not a Ferrari but Nico … in a Sauber.
“Okay then,” Ani murmured to herself. “That’s … unexpected, but good for them.”
Half-way through the session. Esteban’s third lap had more steady improvement—over half a second of improvement. Ollie, however, only found about a tenth. It was still enough to have each briefly in the top 10. Replays a few moments later showed Esteban sliding past Max at one chicane.[13] Something about the pass had Max very unhappy, though, given the curse bleeped out at the end of his broadcasted radio.
The track quieted
Then, with less than twenty minutes to go, and cars started to pour out of the pits for quali sims. Esteban and Ollie. McLaren. Aston Martin. Racing Bulls.
Lando went P1. Oscar slotted into P2, a quarter second down.
Lance climbed into the top 10.
Esteban, however …
“A 1:22.3,” Ani breathed in disbelief, staring wide-eyed at the TV screen, “Este, what happened?”
Ollie’s time, set seconds later, was a 1:20.2.
Cars pitted and then came out on fresh softs.
Ten minutes to go.
Max split the McLarens, jumping up to P2.
Ollie couldn’t improve.
Lando couldn’t improve.
Bortoleto climbed to P3 … with the help of a tow.
Esteban set a 1:20.3, but that was only good enough for P19, which quickly became P20 once Kimi improved.
Cameras caught Charles having a huge moment at Lesmo 2. He dipped his left wheels into the gravel and nearly lost the rear. It could have very easily sent him straight into the wall, but he managed to wrestle his car back onto the track.
Cars pitted and then came out for very final runs in the last few minutes of FP3.
Esteban and Ollie tangled at the first turn, Ollie on a fast lap coming up behind Esteban on an out lap. It was shown on camera, but then Ollie’s radio came up on screen, and there was a note in the live-blog on her phone, too. Ani couldn’t understand what Ollie was saying, but she knew annoyed-frustrated when she heard it.
The chequered flag fell.
0.973 separated Lando in P1 and Esteban in P20.
It was incredibly close.
But Ollie, Lance, and Esteban all in the bottom five …
Well, that doesn’t bode well for quali.
————————————————————————————————
Este 🕷️
Sat, Sept 6
Ani: Is all good between you and Ollie? They broadcasted his radio after you two had the Turn 1 thing. He sounded … annoyed. 13:34
Ani: Pic: A plate with schnitzel and potato salad, sitting on top of a wooden table. I am officially out of schnitzel. 😭😆 It’s a tragedy. 13:37
Esteban: But a tragedy that could be fixed with apple strudel from the bakery. 14:11
Ani: Este, you say the sweetest things. 14:12
Esteban: You are feeling better if you’re flirting over baked goods. 14:12
Ani: One cannot but be in a good mood with Giant Obbie starring at you from the armchair. You never answered my question, though. 14:14
Esteban: Everything is fine. The team just messed up the timing. Ollie was back in a good mood by the time we got to the motorhome. 14:15
Ani: Good 14:15
Ani: And there will at least be bruschetta for consolation. I’m not cooking tonight, so Italian + fresh air it is. 14:16
————————————————————————————————
Qualifying began at 4pm. The sun was shining brightly over the circuit, a glare visible even on the TV, and the little graphic before the session began said it was several degrees warmer than even Geneva.
Hopefully Este isn’t roasting.
Kimi was first out of the pits as the lights went green—on mediums?—followed by multiple midfield cars, including Esteban, Ollie, and Lance. Everyone but Mercedes was on softs. Maybe Mercedes needed to preserve tires. Or maybe they were that confident about their pace to set a banker lap on slower tires. Both Ferraris were behind those midfield cars which could give them a tow … or just foul them in traffic.
Esteban, Ollie, and Lance were the first three cars to put times on the board … in a span of about ten seconds. It left Ollie briefly in first, Lance in second, and Esteban in third, the three separated by a quarter of a second.
Can we stop the clock now, please?
Reversing that order would be even better, but Ani would happily take that top 3 in any order.
They were, unfortunately but unsurprisingly, quickly displaced by other cars. The Saubers put their cars 1-2 within the next thirty seconds, and then the Ferraris also went 1-2 shortly thereafter.
Eleven-and-a-half minutes to go, and Esteban left the pits for his second run, followed quickly by Lance and Ollie. Ani shifted on the couch, tucking her right leg under her, and scanned the timing sheet. The Ferraris had been split by Max. Both the McLarens were currently on fast laps, Lando up on Charles, Oscar slightly down on the Ferrari.
By the time the first runs were finished, everyone had a lap … except Williams. Both Williams. And Esteban, Ollie, and Lance, as the first to set times, had all been relegated to the drop zone. Unsurprising and not disastrous—there was time to improve.
Ollie and Lance’s second runs were solid, but Esteban’s was slower, and after the second runs, that left Ollie and Lance just outside the top ten … and Esteban in P19. With P1 and P20 separated by only 0.865, Esteban needed to find a lot of time to make it out of Q1.
It made Ani’s stomach twist. She forced herself to take a deep breath and then get a sip of water.
Four-and-a-half minutes to go. Esteban and Ollie were the first two cars out of the pits for their final runs. Haas was at the end of the pit-lane, which meant at Monza, if you were not first, you were last, but Haas being the first team out … and Esteban being the first car out … wasn’t ideal. He would be punching a hole in the air for everyone behind and would get none of the benefit himself. Ani could even hear the stress in Esteban’s voice when a radio message was broadcast on the TV, even before the closed captions translated his words into French.
“I’m alone in front, exactly what we said we should not do.”
She grimaced.
The cameras switched to Esteban’s onboards briefly while he was on his out-lap before returning to track views, focusing on Max and Kimi—the world champion and a local favorite who was currently in the drop zone.
Esteban and Ollie set their times in quick succession. They had managed to stay close enough together that Ollie had probably gotten a tow. Esteban’s time was good enough only for P11, but Ollie put himself into P6 … with everyone else—I think—still to set their final laps.
This was going to be close.
For Este … and maybe for Ollie, too. We’ll see.
Fifty-six seconds to go. Kimi pulled himself up to P11, demoting Esteban to P14 on the cusp of the drop-zone. Only four-tenths separated first and fourteenth.
Ani’s stomach tightened. Her eye was glued to the TV.
Come on.
Her attention was focused on the bottom of the timing sheet. She’d check who was squabbling for the top ten later. Lawson pitted without setting another lap. Hadjar improved but only to P15 behind Esteban. Neither Alpine could climb out of the drop zone at all. Alex climbed up to P15 behind Esteban. That left Lance still as a threat, but he improved … only to P17.
Ani’s eye widened, and she whooped with delight.
He’s through! I think he’s though!
He was indeed. Both Haas were through to Q2, which delighted Ani, although she was wistful that Lance could not make it 3 for 3.
The start of Q2 was delayed while gravel was cleared off the track. During the break, the cameras briefly showed a close-up of Esteban in his car, and Ani blew a kiss at the screen just because she could. When the lights went green, Williams went out immediately, but there was a delay of almost a minute-and-a-half before others followed. First Max. Then Esteban. Then Ollie.
Alex’s first lap, even on used tires according to the commentators, was painfully slow and painfully slower than his teammate’s time, but that was explainable by the wheel he had put in the gravel.
Max was the next car to set a time, and it was an electric 1:19.140. Ollie and Esteban, the next two cars to set laps, could not hope to match him. Ollie was half a second back, Esteban another four-tenths back.
It was not the banker lap either of them needed, Esteban especially.
The car is just not cooperating today.
Whatever issues Esteban was having with the VF-25, Lando was having an objectively worse day by virtue solely of being in a front-running car because he hadn’t set a time … at all. After the first run was completed, Lando was in P15, the only car without a time. Even Nico and Alex had times, although they were painfully slow. After changing tires, Lando stayed out, the only car on track except for Carlos, while everyone else was reviewing data in the pits.
Four-and-a-half minutes to go. Red Bull were the next cars back out, followed quickly by Haas.
Lando was on a fast lap again, but his Sector 1 and 2 times were only 0.084 faster than Ollie in P10. It wasn’t a great time so far, but he just needed something on the board for starters. His time by the end was good enough for P7, three-tenths back from Max. He would have a chance to go again, and with Kimi and Lewis, as well as potential mid-field wildcards … like Este hopefully … behind him, he had to improve further. Lando was out of the drop zone for now but was much too close to it for comfort.
Final laps began.
The cameras tracked Esteban around the track on his run. It looked like he might even have a bit of a tow from Yuki.
Come on. Come on. Please.
It was not too be. Esteban climbed only to P12. Ollie climbed to P7, knocking Lando to P8, and both were demoted a further position by Kimi improving.
If Lando gets knocked out and a Haas gets through … that will be quite a coup.
The chequered flag fell. Only Alex and Lando were currently still on laps, the McLaren driver scrambling to try to make it into Q3.
That ties Este and Ollie in the qualifying head-to-head: 8-8 currently.
Alex improved … but only enough to knock Esteban down to P15.
Ani was still fixated fixed on the screen, stomach twisting with nerves. She was invested now in this saga—Lando’s will-he or won’t-he make it into Q3??
That was a slow Sector 2 … only 0.027 up on Ollie.
One mistake and Lando’s out …
And these aren’t even fresh tires by now …
It was going to be close.
Lando flew across the line … and into P5, a tenth-and-a-half back from Max.
Ani exhaled, shoulders dropping. That drama had been unexpected but exhilarating. His earlier laps had been scruffy, but Lando had made it count when it mattered most.
Well done.
With Esteban, Lance, and Ollie all out of qualifying now, Ani’s interest had greatly waned by the time Q3 began, but she left the TV on and peaked her head into the living room a couple times as she changed out of her Saturday-chores clothes and into something presentable to wear to a restaurant. From time to time—not often but not never—someone in Geneva do a double-take, recognizing her as Esteban Ocon’s wife, and especially after this year, Ani had to think twice about what she was wearing and how it reflected on Esteban. (She also needed something with light long-sleeves because no one but her husband needed to see the colorful bruise on her forearm.)
You know better than walking and looking at your phone at the same time.
Even with two eyes, that’s a good way to run into something.
Even in Geneva, where dinner was eaten earlier, 5pm was not supper time, but now if Ani got distracted later, she wouldn’t have to change and then head out. And leaving the TV on was just … multi-tasking.
After run 1 in Q3, the top four were … Max, Charles, Oscar, and Lewis. Lando’s Q2 struggles were continuing, and the other McLaren was all the way down in P7. Ouch. After the second and final run, however, the order was more expected: Max, Lando, Oscar, Charles. The McLarens, Ferraris, and Mercedes were all line astern, two by two by two.
Ani grinned.
The start will be interesting tomorrow.
————————————————————————————————
Este 🕷️
Sat, Sept 6
Ani: I have acquired bruschetta. I will shortly acquire spaghetti. And if my energy holds, I will acquire gelato on the way home. 🤌 18:27
Ani: Looked like a tough session, but you still made it to Q2. I’m proud of you. You did what you could, especially with unideal track position. 18:34
Ani: Ich liebe dich. 18:35
Esteban: Today was disappointing.[14] Car balance was worse. Under-rotation, front-locking, understeer 19:02
Ani: The whole trifecta. Wonderful. 19:02
Ani: You actually looked better in Q1. 19:03
Esteban: The car felt better in Q1, but I couldn’t take advantage of it because of the track position. We need to figure out tonight what went wrong. 19:05
Ani: Eat something. Drink something. Sleep. Don’t make me text Tom. 19:07
Esteban: Yes, chérie. Je t’aime. 19:12
————————————————————————————————
Sunday, September 7, 2025
By the time Ani got off the phone with Magda, it was nearly 2pm. As often happened with the two of them, what had been planned as a brief catch-up call, designed partially to show Magda a live view of Giant Obbie, had turned into a multi-hour marathon, the type which made Ani grateful for phone plans with “unlimited calls” like hadn’t existed when she was a child. They had meandered through most every topic imaginable—Ani’s health, Giant Obbie, F1, work, gossip from the office, the weather. They could have kept talking longer, but Ani needed to eat lunch before the race. Magda also needed to eat and needed to go see why Felix was making a racket and whether he had gotten into mischief.
Ani scanned social media and F1 news while she ate. On Instagram, there were pictures of Ollie’s arrival at the track that morning. She hadn’t even realized Thomas was with him and not just Alicia until she saw a photo Haas posted.[15] The drivers’ parade had already happened, not that Ani usually cared to watch it, unless it was something as interesting as racing Lego cars, but there were, unsurprisingly, pictures of Esteban and Lance chatting.
What is it the Americans say? That funny saying Este told me once … ah, yes, fork found in kitchen.
In terms of news, Hadjar and Gasly were both starting from the pit lane, although the tweet Ani saw did not say why. And Pirelli was predicting a one-stop. Esteban, Lance, and Ollie all had a good array of tires available, including a new set of softs, which left them plenty of options. And—she hadn’t seen this last night—but one of Max’s laps yesterday in qualifying was the fastest ever quali lap in the history of the championship. The weather in Monza that day, however, was less ideal. Not just hot, but hot and sunny.
Today would not be a good day for the drinks system to malfunction. Again.
The formation lap began at 3pm. The TV was already cued, a live-blog and the official driver tracker in the F1 app up on her phone, when Ani took her seat on the couch a couple minutes till the hour with her water and her snacks and a blanket to tuck over her feet.
Tires blankets were already off, so she scanned the list to see who had picked what.
Everyone but Lawson on the back row was on mediums or hards.
Ollie was on mediums.
Lance and Esteban were on hards.
Haas is splitting strategies again.
There was drama then as the formation lap was ending and cars were taking their places again on the grid. Nico, who had qualified P12, boxed … to retire. Hydraulics issue, the German commentator said.
Well, that’s one less car between the boys and points.
The lights went out.
The race began.
It was an … interesting … start. Everyone got off the line cleanly, Lando pulling up alongside Max before going through the grass in a spray of dirt but managing to keep it under control. Max then cut the corner at Turn 2, while Oscar lost a place to Charles. Max had kept his lead but illegally. He would have to cede that place to Lando or risk a penalty.
By virtue of Nico retiring, Esteban was now P14. Ollie had held position. Lance briefly gained a position before losing it to Lawson, whose softs had given him a great start.
At the beginning of Lap 2, Max relinquished the lead to Lando to avoid a penalty. Oscar, who had regained P2 at some point, lost it again to Charles. Lance and Lawson were battling over P15 as well, Lance regaining the position again before losing it again several turns later.
By Lap 3, Oscar and Ferrari were still battling over P3 but had dropped over two seconds back from Max in the process. At the beginning of the lap, Charles locked up into the first turn, and Ani winced as Oscar nearly collected him and sent them both out of the race.
That was close.
Among the rookies, Bortoleto was currently having the best race so far. Something had happened to Kimi at the start, and he had plummeted from P6 to P10, promoting the sole remaining Sauber up the order. And at one point, he even briefly took P5 from George!
The race seemed to settle down after that. Max reclaimed P1 on Lap 4. Oscar and Charles were locked in a never-ending battle. Ollie was still P11, Esteban P14, Lance P16. And Lewis was picking off cars like old-school, classic Lewis Hamilton.
Then, on Line 7, a message from race control appeared on screen, Esteban and Lance had been noted for an incident at Turn 4.
Forcing another driver off the track.
Just noted … for now.
It must have been one of the first couple laps when Lance got past Lawson however briefly.
By Lap 8, it had gone from noted to under investigation.
(Oscar had fallen back nearly four seconds from Lando.)
(And Lando was falling back from Max.)
On Lap 9, the replay of the incident between Esteban and Lance was finally shown. It had happened on the second lap right at the second chicane where the track narrowed. Both had been braking. Lance had made an ambitious move up the outside and hadn’t had enough space. They had touched, and Lance had gone into the run-off. As the replay showed him rejoining the track, a new banner came up on screen—5 second penalty for Car 31.
“Are you kidding?” Ani exclaimed, her jaw dropping in both horror and surprise. “The track narrows. What was he supposed to do—go off himself to keep Lance from getting crowded?”
The laps kept ticking by. Lawson pitted for hards on Lap 10, his softs calling it a day. Max was spitting out fastest lap after fastest lap and was now 3.5 seconds ahead of Lando, who was 5 seconds ahead of Oscar in P3. Except for right at the front, the gaps between most cars were small—0.5 to 1.5 seconds small.
Not quite one giant DRS train but close.
By Lap 14, Max was nearly 4 seconds ahead of Lando, and the McLarens were now nearly 5.5 seconds apart.
Ani just stared at the timing sheet, crunching down on a handful of nuts as she watched.
Did Red Bull switch its fuel to actual Red Bull????
Max is … Max-ing! Like last couple of seasons Max with a rocket-ship!
It’s a shame there’s no point for fastest lap now, or he’d be a shoe-in at this point.
Lance had made up a little time on Esteban, so there was now a DRS train all the way from P7 (Bortoleto) to P16 (Hadjar). Ollie, Esteban, and Lance were all stuck in it. The Sauber was holding half the field up.
Lovely.
More laps ticked by. There was not much going on except Max extending his lead and Charles and George clashing.
On Lap 18, Kimi passed Yuki to claim P9, the Red Bull barely defending, and Lando had had an off, which explained why the timing sheets said he lost half a second to Max in one lap.
On Lap 19, Ollie pitted for hards. His 3.3 second stop was slow and spat him back out at the back of the field. The very next lap, Yuki pitted, reacting to the undercut. His stop was faster, but it wasn’t enough. He was behind Ollie, although the Red Bull quickly found its way past the Haas, which was suffering on the straights. More cars pitted. Fernando and Bortoleto nearly collided in the pit lane. Max’s lead was still steadily increasing.
There’s almost always something in this sport.
With all those pit-stops, by Lap 25/26 Esteban was up to P10, with Lance right behind him, and Esteban was gaining on Carlos. His mediums were dying faster than Esteban’s hards.
Then Fernando began to slow … and subsequently pitted with a puncture. A translated radio message said something about suspension failure. A replay explained it all: he had had a curb strike, with a massive spray of sparks.
Ani winced.
Mercedes pitted George, the first of the front-runners to go. His stop was slow, and he came out in P12, which promoted Esteban up to P9. One live-blog was warning about cars struggling on hards, but since Esteban was matching or nearly matching some medium-runners on tires the same age, he seemed to be managing okay at least. On the next lap Kimi pitted and dropped down behind his teammate and behind the Alpines.
Up front, both McLarens had clawed some time back from Max, but the Red Bull still had a more than 6 seconds and 12 seconds on Lando and Oscar respectively.
I wonder if they’re trying to go long enough for a soft at the end.
Carlos pitted.
Esteban was up to P7 now and yet to pit, and when he did, he’d serve his penalty.
Still a chance for points … maybe.
It was a 24 second loss in the pit lane in Monza. Not a great place for a penalty, but it could be worse.
The black-and-white flag was shown for Kimi for track limits. There were still over twenty laps left to go so he would have to be very careful.
More cars pitted.
Hadjar.
Charles to cover off George, locking-up across the pit entry line in a cloud of smoke.
And … that could be a penalty.
Franco, who came out lapped.
Ani scanned the whole timing sheet. Even for a short, fast track like Monza, some of the gaps were insane. Nearly 16 seconds between Oscar and Lewis, and nearly 12 seconds between Lewis and Alex in P5.
On the start-finish straight as Lap 36 began for those cars further back in the field, George passed Esteban easily. It didn’t look like, from what Ani could see on the TV, the Haas put up a fight at all. Not surprising, though, given the tire differential. 35 lap old hards against 8 lap old hards. It wasn’t much of a contest.
When is Este going to pit?
At this rate he risks plummeting back through the field on those old things if too many more people pit.
Lap 38. Max pitted, unlapping Franco. It was a quick stop, and he came out well behind Oscar but comfortably ahead of Lewis. He had gone for hards, but neither McLaren made any sign of stopping soon. Ani really did think now that they were hoping to stay out long enough for the softs to come into play for a race to the finish.
Lewis pitted, promoted Esteban back up to P7, but with the Ferrari on fresh hards behind Esteban and Lance, neither would hold those positions long.
Ollie was still doing his own thing in P13 … lapping slower than Bortoleto who was on slightly newer tires.
Okayyy … well, he did say Haas’ straight-line speed was … not great.
Drama ensued on Lap 41. (Well, it was Lap 41 for the front-runners. It was still Lap 40 for those cars further back.) Ollie and Carlos were fighting over P13, the cameras following the mid-field battle. Carlos went down the inside at the second chicane, and they tangled. White smoke puffed up. Debris went flying, and the two spun.
Ani bolted upright on the couch. “Scheiße!”
For a moment, both were left sitting in the middle of the racing line before they could get going again, but not before Hadjar passed them. And Ollie was now sitting nearly three seconds behind Carlos.
Her heart was pounding. “Well, that could have been a safety car.”
Which would help Este … maybe?
When is he going to pit??
The incident was quickly noted by race control, and from the replay of Carlos’ onboards, it looked like … maybe … Ollie hadn’t left enough space? Actually not left enough space, not like with Esteban and Lance earlier, but it was hard for her to tell for sure.
Speaking of Esteban and Lance … both were passed by Lewis … on the same lap.
Haas needs to pit him!!
At the front of the field, Oscar was hammering chunks out of Lando’s lead, taking nearly 1.2 seconds on one single lap. On Lap 46, Oscar pitted for softs. It was a blisteringly fast 1.9 second stop, and he came out 18 seconds behind Max. Too much to make up, probably, before the end of the race. On the next lap, Lando pitted, also for softs, but his nearly six second stop was as slow as Oscar’s had been fast, and he dropped behind his teammate.
Ani winced.
That will be a fun debrief.
And a 10 second time penalty for Ollie.
It is NOT Haas’ day.
Only Esteban, Lance, and Gasly had not pitted yet. At this rate, there was basically no chance of points for either Esteban or Lance. Even a normal pit-stop for Esteban, without any penalty, would drop him to P16 between Ollie and Yuki.
Lap 49. McLaren invoked team orders, and an unhappy Oscar let Lando past.
Ani winced again.
Definitely not a fun debrief.
Lap 50. Lance and Gasly both pitted finally, elevating Ollie up to P13.
Este still has not pitted. Haas, what are you doing?
Does no one remember what happened to Este in Baku that year?
Finally, Haas pitted Esteban on the penultimate lap. He dropped to P15.
The chequered flag fell. Max won by a commanding 19.5 seconds over Lando, with Oscar in P3. A late penalty for Kimi for track-limits dropped him from P8 to P9, giving Sauber two extra points. Ollie, Esteban, and Lance were all outside the points.
Ani heaved a sigh.
Max Max-ed.
But I’m glad that’s over.
————————————————————————————————
————————————————————————————————
It was about 4:15pm when the last cars crossed the line. Ani wasn’t sure if this Monza was the fastest grand prix ever, as some had predicted it would be before the race, but it would certainly be near the top. Once Ani turned off the TV, she checked the FIA’s website for its decision document. The ones for Esteban and Ollie’s penalties had both been posted. Esteban had been given a single penalty point (for a total of 1 now), but to add to Haas’ woes, Ollie had been given two penalty points … which gave him ten. Only twelve penalty points were needed for a race ban.
Eight races to go.
Ollie is going to have to be so careful.
Even if Ani had not watched the entire race, she would have known how poorly Monza had gone simply from watching the interviews Lance, Ollie, and Esteban gave in the media pen once F1TV posted them online. Lance was basically non-communicative, replying with only four words to two separate questions. Ollie and Esteban’s interviews were longer, and Ani typed enough bits into Google Translate to get the gist. Ollie had been pleased with the car and though he had been on the right track for points … until the incident with Carlos. Esteban sounded downbeat and tired. Haas had boxed him late because the tires were improving. The incident with Lance had been unintentional, obviously, and caused by the track narrowing at that chicane. He didn’t agree with the penalty but didn’t think it had changed his race either.
After an all-around unideal Sunday, Ani had had enough of sports for the day. She closed anything F1 related on her computer and headed to the kitchen, water glass in hand. She needed to start her own supper and make sure there was something in the fridge that Esteban could eat when he got home if he wanted.
It’s past 5pm now so media should be done.
And the penalties were in-race, so no stewards.
So just debrief. Given today … that could be normal or long.
Any final packing
Any discussions with his crew, with Ollie or Lance or Michel
Car to Milan
Hour flight home
Car here
He won’t be home before 9, I’d think.
————————————————————————————————
Ani’s guess proved almost correct. It was 9:08pm according to her phone when she heard the beep of the front door unlocking, the quiet sound drifting down the hall to their bedroom. She was curled up in bed, one of her knitted blankets draped over her legs, staring at, more than working on, her in-progress bear sticker for Ollie. Her wrists had started to ache a little from stress-knitting the last couple of days, so she had laid aside Giant Obbie’s scarf—about 1/4 or 1/3 complete—to continue later.
“Este?” Ani called out of habit more than from a need for confirmation, setting her tablet down on the duvet. (Management never entered this late except in an emergency and never without warning, and Lance, while he had a key, also never came over without texting first.)
“It’s me.”
There was a louder thump and click (the door shutting and being latched), a softer click (a luggage handle maybe), and a shuffle-thump (Esteban kicking off his shoes).
“I’m in our room,” she called back.
“I’ll be right there.”
Other sounds followed—socks on wood. Esteban was in the kitchen. A clink like he was setting something in the sink made her ears prick up. She smiled, too, at the mundane nature of it all—he was an F1 driver by day, and when he came home, there were still dishes to deal with and all the normal facets of life.
“Dish soap and water, Este. I already started the dishwasher.”
Esteban called back something that sounded like an affirmative, but Ani lost what he actually said to the blur of running water.
A minute later he appeared in their bedroom doorway, suitcase in one hand, backpack hanging from the opposite shoulder. He looked exhausted (physically and mentally) but smiled fondly when he saw her. However downbeat and tired he had looked earlier in his interviews, hours of debrief (and possibly discussing … arguing? … with his engineers about his ongoing car balance issues) and travel had notched it up another degree.
Esteban set down his bags and crossed the room. His hands were warm as he cupped her face and kissed her.
“Tough race,” she murmured when he pulled away, resting his forehead against her for several seconds. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He shook his head.
Ani nodded and then gave him another quick kiss, feeling the scratch of stubble from the angle. “Well, there’s food in the fridge and the pantry if you’re hungry. I did laundry yesterday, so everything not with you is clean and there’s less to do before we leave for Paris, and I only acquired … four new bruises while you were gone.” She paused and tacked on, “I think.”
Esteban’s smile was somewhere between wry and rueful as he stepped back from the bed. “Only four, my Ani says.”
————————————————————————————————
An hour-and-a-half later, bags unpacked, laundry set aside to be washed tomorrow, shower taken, Esteban slid into bed next to Ani, and she switched off the lamp and immediately curled into his side. She tucked her head into its familiar position below his collarbone, threw her arm across his ribs, and curled closer still when his arm tightened around her waist.
“You are now mine … mostly … for the next week,” she noted happily. “And Haas can figure itself out while we go to Paris and eat cake at home on your birthday.”
“I hope so,” was all Esteban replied.
The silence lingered comfortably. Some nights, they talked. Sometimes they cuddled. Sometimes they cuddled and talked. Tonight, he seemed in an introspective mood, not surprising after the race, and Ani was content to just cuddle.
The problem was … the silence gave her mind time to wander.
To Haas.
To the car and its recent, recurring issues.
To Esteban’s results across the summer.
To when the downturn had begun … after Austria … right when her anemia was worsening and everything between them was coming to a head.
Esteban’s hand flattened across her back. “You’re thinking very loudly, mon amour.”
“Désolée,” she murmured back instinctively. “Go to sleep. Don’t mind me.”
His thumb began a slow arc over her shoulder-blade. “Tell me,” he prompted gently.
“It’s stupid,” she protested, “and you’re tired.”
You don’t need to … Ani cut herself off before she went further down that particular mental rabbit-hole.
“Not too tired for you.”
Those simple words almost undid her, and for a moment her eye stung with tears. “I—I didn’t jinx you, did I?” she finally said.
(Esteban wasn’t as superstitious as some drivers, but he wasn’t totally not superstitious.)
“Quoi?” Sheer puzzlement—as if his brain was too slow to process what she had just asked.
“Did I jinx you?” she repeated. “The car since Austria, except for the sprint race in Belgium, hasn’t … been great.”
“And?”
Ani lifted her head so she could look him in the face. “I’ve missed four races. You’ve had so many extra distractions since Austria, and …”
Esteban gently covered her mouth, cutting off the flow of words. “Stop.”
She pulled backwards just enough to be able to speak. “If you do that again,” she grumbled, “I’ll lick your hand. Telling me to shush will do.”
Her husband made a face of pure disgust, snorting wryly, and then sobered. “Ani, your presence or absence has no effect on the balance of my car or the brakes or the timing of when Haas sends us out or on flags.”
Well …
“When you put it that way …” she muttered, relaxing back into his embrace and laying her head down again.
It succinctly cut through the anxiety spiral.
“I raced all of 2020 without you with me. You’re not jinxing me by staying home while you’re getting your strength back.”
Do you think you will be able to upload a chapter? I’m sure you’re super busy. Just wanted to know I miss if
Hello! Thanks for the ask! My brain was just not brain-ing for a while, but I am currently 5700 words into the chapter on Monza and part way through Saturday. A new upload this week is probably too much to hope for, but 🤞🤞 for a new chapter up next week.
Do you think you will be able to upload a chapter? I’m sure you’re super busy. Just wanted to know I miss if
Hello! Thanks for the ask! My brain was just not brain-ing for a while, but I am currently 5700 words into the chapter on Monza and part way through Saturday. A new upload this week is probably too much to hope for, but 🤞🤞 for a new chapter up next week.
then he talked about how he feels upset because he hasn't really achieved much in f1 when he literally has a win and three podiums, all in midfield fucking cars. he is always so fucking hard and negative on himself.
then australia came crashing down. same car issues as last season. he seems depressed. his smile reaches his eyes less the past few weeks.
then the first half of this weekend happened. luck fucked him. setup still wrong. rumours spread wice and far he will lose his seat when the second race weekend isn't even over yet.
then he puts in a stellar race in the first part of the race. he is briefly p3. he fights hard and well. then haas fuck his strategy and his pit stop. then a racing incident he ofc gets a pen for when other drivers wouldn't bc the fia sucks.
just. he needed a good result. he needed a boost. he was doing well. i am sick of his rotten luck. i am sick of haas continously fucking him over and then having the gall to act shocked he cannot score points. i am sick of it all.
Ihre Spidey, Son Storm - Chapter 27: Zandvoort, Part 2
Summary: After a devastating crash at the WSK Euro Series at La Conca in May 2011 ended her karting career and left her blind in one eye, Saarbrücken racer Annika “Ani” Kramer has reinvented herself as a freelance video game concept artist, inspired by a childhood love of comic books. Now she balances her art work with the high-stakes world of Formula 1 as she supports her husband Esteban Ocon through the twists and turns of his own racing career. The Alpine era has ended with the sting of betrayal, a race undriven and a special helmet (designed together) unworn, but the Haas era has just begun. She just had not expected for the 2025 season to bring Esteban a rookie teammate in Ollie Bearman and her a grid little brother to befriend and nurture with snacks and a bear scarf knitted with love.
Notes: Apologies for the delay since the last chapter. My brain has not been braining, exacerbated by my hate-hate relationship with jet-lag.
The first thing Ani did when she woke up Friday morning, after rubbing the sleep from her eye and pushing herself half upright against her pillows, was check the weather. Not for Geneva—she had no plans to go out and thus didn’t care—but Zandvoort. The app on her phone was predicting partly cloudy weather at midday for FP1, heavy rain for FP2, light rain for FP3 tomorrow, and chances of rain during qualifying and the race itself.
It was just past 10:30am. Moments like this, when Ani forgot to set her alarm—or, rather, set the right alarm for the wrong day—and slept uncharacteristically late reminded her that she was still nowhere near 100% yet. She thumbed into Instagram quickly, a little warily. There were already pictures of Esteban—as well as Ollie with Alicia—at the track posted by Haas, which also illustrated how late she had slept.
Bright blue skies for them.
They avoided rain two mornings in a row. Good.
Heavy rain for FP2 — why does it have to be a week they’re experimenting with the higher speed limit for the pit lane??
By eleven, she was padding into the kitchen for a meal that would not quite be breakfast and not lunch either. One new consequence of her anemia was its effect on her relationship with food. Once she might have skipped breakfast and just eaten an early lunch or dumped yogurt and granola in a bowl and called it a meal. Now she had to take her pills and actually put some thought into her food.
As she fixed her meal, sending the occasional baleful glance at the bottle that held her dreadful tasting iron pills, Ani had some uninterrupted minutes to consider the way her thoughts were spinning idly.
She was bored.
It was a very novel sensation.
It had been … months? … since she could last remember feeling bored.
Usually, there would be always something that needed her attention.
Work
Esteban’s races
Lance
Ollie
Mick, occasionally
Magda
Whatever questions her coworkers had come up with that she was apparently the “expert” about.
Her knitting project of the moment
Ani was not the type of person that generally dealt with idleness well. There was always something to do … especially since she was not very good at saying no.
But now … she was bored.
Her gaze flitted toward the living room as she stepped across to the sink to run water in her juice glass and landed on the knitted blanket draped over the back of the couch from where she had left it last night.
And her mind did, as it often did, and made connections between random things.
Blanket
Ollie’s scarf
Bear Ollie
Stickers
Her fingers itched.
Not literally.
But with their old urge to draw, to create.
She wanted … what did she want to draw?
Stickers.
Something new to try my hand at.
Maybe …
Ani set down her fork. “Where’s my tablet?” she muttered to herself.
Usually, her tablet was always close at hand, but since she hadn’t drawn anything since … Goodwood? Silverstone? … it wasn’t.
She forced herself to pick her fork back up and return to her eggs.
Stickers can wait ten minutes until you’re done eating.
Eggs aren’t good cold.
Her phone buzzed as she was finishing, a text from Tom flashing up on the screen. “I presume you saw the forecast,” it read. “Let me or Michel know if you need updates during FP2.” She sent back a quick thumbs up and a thanks.
Once her dishes were in the sink and she had finished her glass of water, only then did Ani allow herself to go searching for her new tablet, the one Esteban had given her for her birthday. After a few minutes she found it in the drawer of her nightstand on top of her old tablet … right where I must have left them when I unpacked.
Start with the draft pieces I did for Cyberpunk Bear Ollie.
And go from there.
————————————————————————————————
An alarm—one of many that now gave order to Ani’s day—pulled her head out of the clouds in time to use the bathroom, get a glass of water, and turn the TV on just as Esteban and Ollie (both on mediums) were pulling out of the pits and onto the track, the fifth and sixth cars in the queue. Lance left the pits a minute later.
There was a very brief VSC at the beginning of FP1, ending soon after Ani got the TV up, which was probably a system test.
The first on-track session after summer break was always interesting, with the break a chance to internalize data from the previous races and then dial back for the remainder of the season. FP1 was especially important this year, with the rookies needing to get a feel for the banked sections of Zandvoort’s track, since F2 didn’t run there. Everyone needed to make the most of track time simply given the forecast.
By three minutes into the session, all 20 cars were on track, everyone but Yuki on mediums.
Times started to appear on the timing sheets.
The McLarens, unsurprisingly, quickly went to the top.
Esteban’s first lap was a 1:15.890, good enough for P5. Ollie set his own time a few seconds later, clocking in about four-tenths slower.
Ollie’s slightly faster in Sector 1, slightly slower in Sector 3, and Esteban is MUCH faster in Sector 2. Downforce settings, I presume?
Lance was nearly a second faster than Esteban.
Zandvoort was a narrow, undulating track that threaded its way through the sand dunes on the Dutch coast. It was a test for drivers and a beautiful place to see on the wide-angle and drone shots.
Lewis claimed P1, before being displaced by Max thirty seconds later.
The cameras showed smoke pouring from the back of Kimi’s Mercedes.
Either he’s riding too low and that’s his plank, OR his PU is about to self-combust.
On his second lap, Esteban found over a second-and-a-half, improving in all three sectors. Ollie found even more improvement, but his 1:14.634 was only good enough for P16, four places behind Esteban. A 1:13.6 for Lance a minute later put him into the top 10, shortly before Fernando of all people claimed P1.
Okay, Aston’s having a good … first ten minutes.
Don’t get your hopes up. Again.
Yellows flashed across the screen briefly. A replay showed that Lewis had spun.
Thirty seconds later, a red flag lit up the timing sheet. Ani’s heart lurched, and her gaze snapped fully from her phone to the TV. Este, Lance, and Ollie are all out. The cameras—and the commentators—quickly explained the cause. Kimi was beached in the gravel between Turns 9 and 10. Yuki had spun, too, but got going again.
At least, it’s not Este.
Everyone began to pit, and Ani used the chance to unfold herself off the couch and refill her water glass.
Not a good start to the weekend for Lewis or Yuki … or Kimi, especially.
This wind isn’t helping anything today.
The margin for error here is already small.
With 42:00 minutes left on the clock, after about seven minutes of stoppage, the session resumed, and cars poured back out onto the track. George, who now had to do the work of both Mercedes, went out first. The little Ps beside Esteban and Ollie’s names on the timing sheet disappeared a minute later.
By their third lap, both Esteban and Ollie were into the 1:13s, Esteban four-tenths ahead, and making steady improvement, lap by lap, but by now their times were only good enough for P15 and P17. After one fast lap, both pitted.
Max extended his lead, going sub 1:12, before being displaced by nearly two-tenths by Oscar a couple of minutes later.
Lance was steadily improving, and by almost half-way through the session, he was in P4.
Okay, maybe after Hungary … maybe just maybe …
The switch to softs began.
25 minutes to go. Esteban’s first soft-tire run was a 1:12.419, a tenth-and-a-half faster than Ollie and good enough only for P15. Both pitted briefly and then came out for a second run. Esteban found about three-tenths; Ollie lost half-a-second.
Wrong direction, petit ours. Wrong direction.
And what were Ferrari doing languishing down in P14 and P15 with less than 20 minutes to go?
They must be running a very different program.
Wide-angled shots showed dark clouds beginning to grow overhead.
Just let them get through this session in the dry. PLEASE.
For Haas, the final fifteen minutes passed with Esteban and Ollie doing high-fuel runs on mediums, churning out lap after lap. Lance was still doing soft-tire runs and improving … except when he had to back-off because Yuki was in his way. Aston was still managing to develop the car mid-season apparently, which was good.
The chequered flag fell.
It was a McLaren 1-2, unsurprisingly, but Lance—Lance!!—was P3, and Ani whooped with delight.
Esteban was down in P17, and Ollie was in P19. It had been a less stellar start for Haas than for Aston Martin.
Only FP1.
It’s only FP1.
And because FP1 needed more drama before it was fully over, when Ani refreshed the live-blog she had up one more time, a picture of Max’s Red Bull appeared … beached in the gravel. He had done a practice start and then gone off at Turn 1.
Oops.
————————————————————————————————
@Haasterplan: “Ani’s missing again. That’s three European races in a row.”
[Pic: A screengrab of a camera-shot showing the back of the Haas garage during FP1 — no Ani in sight.]
@BearconRules: “Is she not traveling this year anymore??? Hope Ani’s okay 💙”
@SpideyRacer: “No Ani at Spa or Hungary, and now no Ani at Zandvoort… really weird”
@PaddockTea: “When has she ever missed 3 European races since they got married??”
@Catstappen: “Calling it — they separated.”
@suitedandbooted: “He races better alone. Brazil anyone?”
@OconHive: “She was in Hungary 4 years ago for his win, doofus.”
@gossipgirly: “ED? In the Goodwood background shot, she looked thin.”
@Haasterplan: “Don’t be an ass. Speculating about her health is just super weird.”
@SpideyRacer: “Dude, you people are the reason Esteban doesn’t post about her and us normal people get no updates.”
@BearconRules: “She’s never been that active on socials, but her acct’s been like dead since Austria.”
@OconHive: “Since Austria? Go figure.”
————————————————————————————————
Ani’s phone began to vibrate noisily, sending it skittering a few centimeters across the coffee table. Barely looking up from her tablet balanced on her knees, she reached a hand and jabbed call-accept and then speakerphone without ever really comprehending the caller ID.
“Hallo.”
“There’s my Ani.” Esteban’s voice was as familiar as her own after fifteen years but always sounded a little … odd … over speaker phone.
That drew Ani’s head out of the clouds; puzzled, she blinked at her tablet—a lightly-edited version of the Cyberpunk Bear Ollie looking back at her, the outlines of his scarf (exactly like she had given to him in Jerez), just sketched in. Then her gaze jumped to her phone. “Este? It’s … what time is it? Are you okay? You don’t usually call during the afternoon.”
“It is 2:50, and I was going to ask you that,” he replied. “You haven’t seen any of my texts since FP1.”
I haven’t?
Ani blinked again. “You texted me?”
“Oui.”
“Oh. Sorry, Este.”
Oops.
“So you’re not feeling worse?”
Ani shook her head and then, a second later, remembered he couldn’t see that. “Non. I just got distracted. Are you on break?”
“For ten minutes.” He paused. “Cooking?”
“Hmmm?”
“You said you got distracted,” Esteban prompted.
“No,” she replied. “I finished the last of Monday’s pasta, and there’s left-over schnitzel from last night for supper, so only the microwave today.” Her half-eaten bowl of spaghetti was sitting on the coffee table next to her phone and her water glass.
I need to finish eating that.
“X-Men then? Or Black Panther?”
Ani laughed. “No movies over lunch, Este. I was”—her voice softened—“drawing.”
There was stunned silence for just long enough that she wondered for a split second if the call had gotten disconnected.
“Oh, Ani.”
Her throat got a little tight. “I have my new tablet and everything.”
“What are you drawing?” There was something about the tone of Esteban’s voice—like this was something precious—that made her eye burn. “Tell me, please.”
“A sticker … for Ollie … for his helmet. When he was texting me yesterday, he sent me a picture of his helmet with this new sticker, a cartoon bear eating a stroopwafel.”
Esteban laughed. “He showed me, too.”
“I said maybe I’d put in an entry for his next competition,” she continued. “I think I offended him from the sheer number of caps. Anytime I make him a sticker, it would get pride of place, he said.”
“And now you have an idea.” It wasn’t quite a statement, wasn’t quite a question either.
“Mm-hmm. It came to me over breakfast, and now I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“Ma muse in her element.” There was a smile in Esteban’s voice.
Ani’s gaze dropped to the table, her cheeks flaming red. “Flatterer.”
“Just as long as you remember to eat and you remember to drink.”
“I’m eating right now, and my water glass is full,” she replied, the old background script of annoyance when he prodded her about food … less present than it used to be. “And I have an alarm—running currently—for later. It won’t be … just typical old me.”
“Take care of my Ani.”
“I will, Este. Well,” she emended, “I’m really trying. No more running on coffee and vibes.”
“Good.”
“How’s the weather?”
“Pouring.”
Ani made a face. “Lovely.”
“They’re hoping”—Esteban emphasized that word—“it will dry off in time to at least start on slicks. We—”
There was a tap in the background and then the low murmur of voices.
“I need to go,” he said.
“That’s fine,” Ani replied.
“I’ll talk to you tonight. I want to see a picture.”
Ani smiled softly. “When it’s a little further along. Ich liebe dich, Este. Be careful. In the rain.”
“I’ll be prudent. Je t’aime.”
————————————————————————————————
Ani was much warier that afternoon when she turned on the TV just before 4pm, after a stern lecture to herself that she was done with art for the day before her hand cramped or her brain actually decided she wanted to bury her tablet back in a drawer and not look at it for a couple of more months. There had been no warning texts from Tom or Michel that it was currently pouring rain, which was why she had turned the TV on at all.
The sky was very gray, the color that said it could start raining at any moment. The weather graphic said the risk of rain for the session was 100%, but it was not raining right then, not that Ani could see on camera.
As hoped, the first cars out of the pits when the lights went green were on slicks, Esteban pulling out onto the track behind Lance and ahead of Ollie. The session had begun under a VSC again, almost certainly another test.
Soon it began to drizzle, the rain just barely visible on the cameras. If it stays like that, it would be fine, but … the commentator on Canal+ was warning that a further band of precipitation was coming up the coast from the Hague. In no more than about 15 minutes, it would get … very soggy.
Nico set the benchmark time before quickly being surpassed by Lando.
Esteban’s first lap was a 1:14.6, good enough for P7. Ollie set his lap a couple of minutes later, a 1:12.9 that catapulted him up to P5. His sectors were better across the board than Esteban’s, with a purple Sector 3 even. Both were on mediums.
Okay…
Ani raised an eyebrow.
Only the first lap.
Maybe Este had some issues with getting his tires in the proper window. It’s cool today.
Fernando claimed P1, before losing it to Lando by over eight-tenths.
Seven minutes in, and Lance put in a blistering 1:11.975 that put him into P2. Ani snapped a picture of the screen with her phone just as Esteban set his second lap, a 1:12.788.
P10. That’s more like it.
Esteban and Ollie both pitted and switched to softs.
Ollie’s first lap on softs was a 1:11.113, with two purple sectors that put him into P1, just under two-tenths ahead of Lando.
Why couldn’t you have been two-thousandths faster, petit ours? A 1:11.111 would have been so funny.
Ani snapped a photo of the screen, too, grinning as the international feed switched to showing Ollie’s onboards, giving a perfect view of the bear-eating-a-stroopwafel sticker on his helmet.
Yellow flags flashed up on the screen at 49:03. Five seconds later, before Ani could even turn her phone on to check that Esteban, Ollie, and Lance were all moving on the driver tracker, the cameras switched to showing Lance’s car on the bank at Turn 3. His car was … well, his quali crash in Singapore a couple of years ago had been far worse, but here, the damage to his car was still massive. His front and rear right tires were pointing at very wrong directions. His rear wing was tilted like it was drunk. There was white smoke pouring from the right side of the car. There were carbon pieces on the ground right between the back tires that … I’m not even sure where that was from.
Putain.
That … that’s big.
Turn 3 was where Daniel had had his big crash a couple of years ago, choosing to drive straight into the barrier rather than T-Bone Oscar’s McLaren. He hadn’t gotten his hands off the wheel in time, and the resulting fractures in his hand and the recovery therefrom had spelled the beginning of the end to his F1-career redux.
A couple of seconds later, while Ani’s eyes were still cataloging the damage to Lance’s car, yellow flags became a red flag.
Good.
Her stomach tightened with fear.
Ten more seconds passed.
Before she could even switch over to WhatsApp to text Tom, a radio message from Lance appeared on screen on the TV, two familiar English words: “I’m okay.”
Ani sagged like a puppet with cut strings.
Este loses his fast lap.
But Lance is okay.
That’s what counts.
It still felt far too long, though it was only about twenty seconds, before the cameras cut back from the Aston Martin pit-wall to Lance’s onboards and showed him in the process of climbing out.
The replay showed clearly what had happened. Lance had carried too much speed into the turn. A lock-up had left him a passenger in his own car, carrying him into the wall with hardly any deceleration.[1]
Putain.
Ani winced, cringing, her body aching in sympathy with how Lance was presumably going to feel once the adrenaline wore off.
That was a big hit.
The minutes ticked by. Ani made herself get up and go refill her water glass rather than watching marshals clean up debris and spilled fluids from Lance’s car. She texted Lance quickly: “That was scary. Glad you’re okay.” She texted Tom a “😬🫣” and got back a thumbs-up.
It was a long red flag, and FP2 did not resume until 38:00. Rain lingered in the air and on some camera lenses, but the track was not visibly wet, and everyone was still on slicks.
Cars had only been back out on track for two minutes, and everyone was still on out-laps (except Max), when yellows flashed up on the screen, followed by a VSC. Hadjar had stopped at Turn 8, reporting—according to the commentator—no power. Four-and-a-half minutes of running were lost to that.
Half-way through the session, and already almost fifteen minutes had been lost to stoppages.
Not what anyone needs.
Cars trundled out of the pits again and managed to put in some more laps.
Nico claimed P1 at one point, early in the day’s soft-tire runs.
There was a long yellow flag when Lewis had a massive spin.
Esteban and Ollie both climbed into the top 5 in succession, Ollie about two-tenths faster.
Fernando took P1 before losing it to Lando again but only by about a tenth.
And then … as Max crossed the line on a fast-lap, the cameras caught a cloud of white smoke ahead of him at Turn 1 and switched views in time to see Alex’s Williams clattering through the gravel and straight into the wall. He slid backwards off the escape road and fully into the gravel and became beached. Yellows became another red flag.
The session resumed again with 16 minutes to go. Esteban did one more lap on softs, a 1:11.419 that put him into P14, before switching to mediums, and he and Ollie churned out high-fuel laps for the remaining minutes.
The chequered flag fell on a session that had been … far too exciting … though for its many stoppages and not the originally predicted heavy rain. Sun had even began to shine. Fernando had split the McLarens in the top 3. Ollie was P11, Esteban P15.
That felt like much more than an hour.
————————————————————————————————
Lance 🍁
Fri, Aug 29
Ani: That was scary. Glad you’re okay. 16:15
Ani: Seeing your car like that did unkind things to my blood pressure. You’re not allowed to do that to me, when I’m not there to come check on you in person. 17:00
Lance: I’m fine, though my PU may not be. You don’t need to worry. 17:03
Ani: And your hands are okay? 17:03
Lance: They’re fine. I’m okay. Really. 17:05
————————————————————————————————
Este 🕷️
Fri, Aug 29
Ani: Well, that was far too much ‘excitement’ for FP2. And all that without rain… 17:09
Ani: How was the car/day? All those stops didn’t help your run-plan. 17:10
Esteban: Decent overall. We made a step from FP1 to FP2. But yes, very disrupted. And I was on used tires 17:32
Esteban: I saw Lance briefly. He’s okay in case you haven’t heard 17:33
Ani: We had just a minute to text earlier, so I heard, but thank you 17:34
Esteban: We have debrief soon. Can I call from the hotel? 17:35
Ani: Please, but text me first in case I need a minute 17:36
Esteban:👍 Je t’aime 17:37
Ani: Ich liebe dich. 17:37
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Saturday, August 30, 2025
Actually remembering to set her alarm the previous night meant that Ani got up at a normal (pre-anemia) time Saturday morning, emerging from underneath the covers at 9am to make breakfast. While eating and then sipping a cup of hot lemon-and-honey water afterwards, she alternated between checking the weather in Zandvoort and idly working on her draft idea for Ollie’s sticker.
F1A qualifying at 9:25am was … quite wet, but while it was dark and the ground was wet by the time pictures of the drivers arriving at the track appeared on Instagram, it did not appear to be actively raining, and there was even some sun by fan-forum time, making Esteban squint in some photos.[2]
The morning passed quickly, FP3 approaching more quickly than Ani had expected. Art had a way of making the time fly, even when her head wasn’t fully lost in the clouds of hyperfocus. About ten minutes before the session, she clicked off her tablet and set it aside on the coffee table in the living room—need to plug that in, anyway, so it’s a good time to stop—and picked up her empty water glass off its coaster. She had been debating with herself whether to watch FP3, since the thought of rain after yesterday’s drama was making her stomach want to curdle, but regardless, she needed more to drink.
No more subsisting on coffee, vibes, and chronic low-grade dehydration.
One of Esteban’s requirements when they had been apartment hunting years ago was enough space in every room for the furniture WITH a buffer zone so that it was easier for her to avoid walking into furniture (or door-jambs) because her eye told her she was a certain distance away when she was actually much closer than she thought. And usually, it worked. Today, Ani curved around the cabinet nearest the door from the living room, heading toward the sink, … only to slam her left hip right into the corner, point first.
Pain radiated up and down her leg.
Ani jackknifed forward with a cry of pain, the glass (thankfully empty) flying out of her hand. It shattered on the floor, scattering glittering shards across the tile.
“Putain. Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.”
She braced one hand on the counter and slapped the other hand over her hip, first rubbing at it gently and then just pressing, trying to get the throbbing ache to ease. Her leg still held her weight. There was no tingling down the limb and into her toes, but … putain, that hurts.
“Well,” she muttered, voice tight, “that will be colorful tonight.”
Este’s going to get that pinched look when he sees.
Slowly, she straightened and pulled the waistband of her leggings down enough to take a peek at her hip. It looked a little red, but there was no visible broken skin. Just a giant bruise soon. And she could move it without stabbing pain or weird noises, so she probably hadn’t done anything to the bone.
Things I learn from close proximity to Tom for years.
Muttering one more “ow” for good measure, Ani’s gaze dropped to the glass all over the kitchen floor. “And that would be why Este always reminds me to wear slippers around the house.”
There were several large chunks, but the sun streaming in through the kitchen windows glinted off all the tiny shards strewn across the tiles. All across. And since she had no wish to break her vacuum, she would have to get up everything by hand. With her impaired vision, she would have to be very careful not to cut her hands.
Ani checked her watch. 11:24. There was no way she could clean up this much glass in six minutes. Already stressed by the weather in Zandvoort, her stomach started to twist further into a knot. You’re going to be late. You’ll let Este down. And Ollie. And Lance … after the disaster that was FP2.
“It’s FP3,” she muttered to herself. “Not qualifying. And Este doesn’t except you to watch every single session.”
But …
“Shut up, brain.”
She retrieved the packing tape from a drawer, the paper-wrapped bread on the counter, and her phone from the living room, bringing up a live-blog so she could at least check what was happening, and set to work.
(The track was deemed wet at the start, which meant teams could run inters. That made her especially glad she wasn’t watching it live. Lance’s car had been fixed, which made her wonder if Aston Martin had broken curfew. At least he’ll have extra tires.)
Tiptoeing across the floor and picking up the large chunks of glass and dumping them in the trash can was easy.
Painstakingly picking up small fragments of glass with tape or, in some harder to access corners and crannies, bread was far more painstaking.
(Twenty minutes in, Lance was in P1 ahead of Bortoleto and Kimi. Not particularly representative times so far, but she still smiled.)
I’ll need to buy more tape after this.
(Thirty minutes in, Esteban and Ollie were lapping on hards. Ollie was in P4, but Esteban was eight positions and eight-tenths further back. Ani grimaced. I do not like that. Track position was important here, as it was hard to overtake.)
Three times, Ani thought she had gotten up all the glass only to find a few more pieces stubbornly still glinting up at her when she checked the floor with a flashlight.
(Forty-five minutes in, and the field was switching to quali sims.)
Finally, her back and knees hating her in about equal measure, she decided she had gotten up everything. There would be no accidentally forgetting her slippers for now, but all the obvious pieces were sitting in the trash.
(Chequered flag. McLaren 1-2. Unsurprising. Lance, P8. Excellent after yesterday. Ollie, P15. Esteban, P18. Does not bode well for quali.)
She stretched her back, washed her hands, and decided it was time for lunch.
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Este 🕷️
Sat, Aug 30
Ani: Just in case I forget tomorrow night: Do not go bare foot in the kitchen. I dropped a glass before FP3. I think I found all the shards, but … Better safe than sorry. 12:57
Esteban: Are you hurt? 13:07
Ani: No. I was wearing slippers like you always bug me to. 13:08
Ani: My hip is probably going to look like a painter’s palette by the time you get home, though. I dropped the glass because I ran into the counter. 13:09
Esteban: Ani! 13:10
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After lunch, confessing her ‘sins’ to Esteban, and a few chores, it was time for qualifying. The chance of rain for the session was only 10%, so with no kitchen disasters to distract her, Ani curled up on the couch and turned on the TV for the first time all day.
Q1 began at 3pm. Esteban was the second car to leave the pits after Yuki, followed by the Alpines, and Ollie was right behind them both. Lance left the pits a minute later. The short track had advantages (quick in-laps and time for multiple laps, even if you had to back-out of one) but major disadvantages (traffic). Zandvoort was not the track at which to go out in Q1, and all three of them had a lot to overcome after Free Practice.
Although there was no rain, the drivers were still at the mercy of mother nature. Within the first few minutes, the commentators were referencing driver radios complaining about gusty winds.
Esteban was the second car out of the pits and the second car to put a time on the board. A 1:11.183, half a second slower than Yuki. Ani grimaced. Not a great start. Both Alpines—even Colapinto!—displaced him from P2 over the next thirty seconds, and then Ollie flew into first place, with a 1:10.262, knocking Esteban down to P5. It wasn’t the end of the world … yet, but it wasn’t good.
Charles could not displace Ollie.
Lewis was only able to surpass the Haas by … 0.038.
Ani raised an eyebrow. Well, that says more about either Lewis or the Ferrari or both than Ollie, I think.
Seconds after Ollie crossed the line, yellows flashed up on the screen, and a split second later, the cameras switched to showing … Lance’s car in a cloud of smoke pulling out of the wall and across the gravel back toward the track, running over a chunk of carbon fiber from what appeared to be his front wing in the process.
“What the … putain … what happened?”
The accident had happened at Turn 13, so at least he didn’t have far to limp back to the pits.
The car’s moving okay on his onboards.
But he went rear into the wall.
How much damage there may be depends on how hard a hit it was.
Smoke could be burning rubber … or his PU.
The replay was shown right after Lance returned to the pits. He’d put two wheels into the grass and spun into the wall, broadsiding it and not rear-ending it as Ani had thought.
Esteban and Ollie—and the other cars that had done an early first lap—pitted, and the track briefly quieted, only Lewis and Max lapping for a short time until the Mercedes and the McLarens left the pits.
On his first lap, Max put his car into P1, nearly half a second ahead of Lewis and Ollie.
There might be time for Aston to get Lance out again.
Depends on how much damage there is and to what …
That shot of his garage showed him still in the car, at least.
Esteban and Ollie left the pits for their second set of laps.
Both Mercedes claimed P2 in quick succession, Kimi dislodging George by 0.051.
Nine minutes to go. The McLarens went 1-2. Ollie was down to P8, Esteban to P14. Lance was still in the pits.
Eight minutes to go. Esteban found half a second on his second lap, pulling him back to P14. Ollie did not improve and remained in P10. Both were greatly at risk.
Seven minutes to go. The commentators announced that Lance was out of his car and out of qualifying.
Putain.
The final minutes of Q1 ticked down, and cars began to leave the pits for their final runs. Ollie left the pits first, the little P by his name on the timing sheet on the TV disappearing with 3:50 left on the clock. It was longer before he was actually moving on track due to traffic at pit exit. Esteban faced the same situation a minute later.
Ani shifted position on the sofa, making a face at the TV and then at her own foot because the weird angle she had been sitting at had meant her foot was starting to tingle.
It’s a short lap. Plenty of time to get around again. This isn’t Spa.
Two minutes to go.
The McLarens switched places at the top, Oscar taking the lead from Lando.
One minute to go.
Ollie could not improve and was quickly dropping down the order.
This is going to be close…
The chequered flag fell.
The box tracking Esteban’s sector times had finally come up on the screen. Green Sector 1. Green Sector 2. And he’s up by almost a tenth-and-a-half. Come on, Este. Come on. Ollie had fallen into the drop zone, but maybe Haas could still get one car through.
It was not to be.
Esteban’s onboards came up on the screen, and Ani smiled. Seeing them on the big screen was always nicer than on her phone. At Turns 11 and 12, Esteban went deep. He improved but only to P16, ahead of Ollie but 0.002 behind Nico in P15. By the time all the final times were set, it was Colapinto, Nico, Esteban, Ollie, and Lance out.
No time for Lance.
0.924 from Oscar to Ollie.
WOW!
Ani turned off the TV at that point. She could check the results from Q2 and Q3 later. For now, she had a few chores to finish, and then she’d do something fun.
(Q2 and Q3 were relatively uneventful. The most notable thing from Q2 was a wildlife appearance by a local fox.[3] In Q3, it was as expected: a McLaren 1-2 and Max, never out of the fight, had found his way to 3rd.)
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Este 🕷️
Sat, Aug 30
Ani: Tough one today. I was cheering you on from the couch. You were so close. 15:27
Ani: No more glassware has met its unfortunate demise … yet. I may take the evening off and order pizza as insurance. 15:59
Ani: Do you and Ollie have more hope for tomorrow than Lance does? 16:00
Esteban: Not really. It will be tough 17:02
Esteban: Ollie started well and struggled at the end. I struggled at the start and improved at the end. We had the pace to get into Q2. It was just that moment at Turn 11. 17:03
Esteban: We might do something different tomorrow, and see what we can do. 17:04
Ani: Just do the best you can. I’ll be proud, points or no points. 17:05
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Sunday, August 31, 2025
It was a sober Sunday morning this weekend. Six years ago today, Anthoine had died in Spa. Esteban had been in Belgium that weekend, had been in the middle of an interview when the crash happened. Ani remembered in vivid detail seeing the clip later, watching his face change, and could remember even more vividly the way his voice, thick with tears, had shook when he called her that night. Tributes to Anthoine were all over F1 social media, and Esteban reposted one.
In less sober news, Ani saw that Ollie was starting from the pit lane for exceeding his quota of PU elements and replacing his PU under parc ferme conditions. Given that he had qualified P19, it made sense to do it now. It wasn’t like he was losing a good grid position.
Although there was a 60% chance of rain for the race, which Ani did not at all like, the drivers’ parade was dry. Some sun was even shining. And Esteban spent much of the entire parade talking with Lance as per usual. All was right with the world.
The day ticked by, and soon it was almost 3pm, and Ani was settling in on the couch with a blanket over her legs, two tall glasses of water so she didn’t have to go to the kitchen mid-race, and a bowl with iron-rich snacks to munch on.
The tires choices were revealed, and they were striking. 13 cars were on mediums, including Lance. Esteban and Ollie were the only cars on hards. Max (in P3), Yuki (midfield), and Nico and Colapinto (just in front of Esteban) were on softs. Now the start was going to be even more crucial.
Softs … Lando will not like hearing that. Max will give have a chance at the lead.
And unless they have bad starts, Este might have trouble getting past Nico and Colapinto.
We’ll see.
And softs … that probably pushes you into a two-stop.
The formation lap began, the clouds visible in wide-angle shots growing slightly more foreboding overhead. Forecasts couldn’t agree whether the rain would hit during the race or just after.
PLEASE be after.
The lights went out, and the race began.
As starts went, it was relatively calm. Oscar held his lead, but Max was able to climb past Lando, who had a poor lunch, before promptly going wide and having to relinquish that position a couple of corners later. But then Max and Lando seesawed positions again. Everything was happening so fast, and with no timing sheet on the first lap, it was hard for Ani to follow.
Everyone survived Turn 1 and the first lap. Lance briefly gained a position before falling back to P19. Esteban climbed passed Nico, which was surprising.
Hards vs softs — softs usually win, but I’ll take it.
Charles and Alex both had excellent starts. Charles had gotten past George and was now sizing up Hadjar as Lap 1 finished and Lap 2 began, and Alex was up five places just on the opening lap.
Esteban’s hold on P16 was short lived, and he lost the place to Nico right at the beginning of Lap 3. But, since the softs would start dropping away over the next few laps, he might be able to remake that ground soon.
The commentators began to talk about radio messages warning of rain around Lap 7 (about eight minutes), enough that inters might be needed.
If they need inters, I’m turning the TV off.
Oscar, Max, and Lando were quickly building a gap at the front, and Hadjar could not stay with them. A massive DRS train formed from P5 to P19. And in another couple of laps, it would be from P5 to P20 as soon as Ollie caught up to the field. At the front, it was happy days for Oscar, who had clear air and was extending his lead over Max, whose softs were hanging in there … for now.
Lance’s bad luck continued. After having passed Bortoleto for P18 on Lap 4, a notice appeared on the screen on Lap 6 that an incident had been noted involving the two of them for causing a collision. Then, despite the threat of rain incoming, he pitted on Lap 9 … for hards after only a very short stint on his mediums.
One eyebrow crawled up Ani’s face, and she stared at the TV in confusion.
Okay …
Lando finally passed Max, but now he had a 4.5 second gap to make up to his teammate.
Esteban was still caught int the DRS train behind Hadjar, so there was not much to see with him, not that the cameras were even showing the back of the field much.
The incident between Lance and Bortoleto was finally marked as no further investigation. From a few shots of his car, Ani could see the Brazilian rookie was managing front-wing damage, but from his lap times, he was still lapping about equal with Esteban and Ollie between whom he was sandwiched.
Laps passed. The threat of rain remained, but so far no rain was actually appearing.
Bortoleto’s abused front-wing end plate finally flew off … only for Lance to run over it.
Is Lance jinxed? Cursed? Seriously!
Finally, the rain arrived around Lap 16, cameras showing jackets going on in the grandstands and Zak was shown sticking his hand away from the McLaren pit-wall, checking for rain in the oldest tried-and-true method there was.
The softs continued to fade. Nico was dropping back from the Alpines, and Esteban was dropping back from Nico, although Ani wasn’t exactly sure why.
Oscar was holding onto a lead of about 3 seconds over Lando, was who now 10 seconds ahead of Max. Eighteen laps, and Max was still making his softs last, and he hadn’t lost any further positions, either.
More and more drops of rain started to appear around Laps 20 and 21, and cars started to pit … for new slicks, not inters. The track still looks relatively dry. First was Fernando, then Yuki, then the Alpines. That promoted Esteban up to P13, Ollie to P15, and Lance to P16.
Este and Ollie haven’t pitted, so they’re not tied to a two-stop like Lance is.
Drama struck on Lap 23. Charles was just exiting the pits when a yellow flag appeared on the timing sheet. A split second later, before Ani had time even for a mental, “What happened?”, the camera switched. Lewis was in the wall at Turn 3. From his onboards, she could see the chunks of his front wing on the grass and the way his front-right tire was at an impossible angle. Stopped now, his name began to tumble down the timing sheet from P6.
Yellows became a safety car.
I would not want to be Charles right now. That just screwed him over.
And neutralized strategy.
The whole field might pit!
Almost!
The cars trundled around the track under the safety car until they got back to pit entry, and then car after car began to pit. First a McLaren double-stack, and then, once they caught up, everyone else.
Well, not everyone else.
Of those cars that had not pitted already, everyone pitted … EXCEPT Haas.
Both Esteban and Ollie stayed out, climbing to P9 and P13.
At this rate, they can definitely do a one-stop.
But at the restart … they’ll be screwed.
24-lap old tires, and everyone else, except Lance, on new or almost new rubber.
How does Haas expect them to have a hope of holding position?
Ani mentally grumbled the strategy call and took the chance to use the bathroom while the safety car was out.
On Lap 27, the race restarted.
Oscar held his lead.
Esteban could not hold his position. At Turn 1, Alex passed him.
Suddenly, Lawson and Carlos, who had been mid-battle for P7, started to plummet down the order. Ani stared at the screen. Is the session about to get neutralized again? It just restarted! Even if it did and Haas finally pitted Esteban and Ollie, with the field still relatively bunched up, they’d plummet to the back of the field regardless.
The two managed to limp around back to the pits … and came out lapped, not even halfway through the race.
At Turn 1 on Lap 29, Esteban was passed by Lance.
I’m not sure if that’s tire differential or not. Este’s last lap was slow. Maybe he had a moment.
Esteban then began to drop back toward Ollie, who was himself under pressure from Yuki in P12.
There’s a mini-DRS train now behind Lance. That gives Este DRS on Lance, as well as Ollie DRS on Este. That will help Este hold position.
The sky began to grow brighter. What rain there had been was minor and seemed to be passing quickly. Ani relaxed a little, one hand unclenching in the folds of the blanket draped across her legs.
A brief VSC was called to deal with debris on the main straight.
That must be from Carlos and Lawson. Not sure who else it would be.
Several laps later, Esteban and Ollie set identical lap times, which made Ani grin.
Charles and George scrapped over P5. There was even a collision at one point, but both continued. No plummeting down the order like Lawson and Carlos.
More laps passed, and Esteban held onto P10, Ollie a second plus behind him.
At the front of the field, Max was dropping back from the McLarens, especially Lando. Hadjar was in P4, with his eye on the prize of a rookie podium, but with a senior Red Bull in front of him … I doubt they’d let Hadjar make the attempt on Max of all people.
By Lap 44, Lando had made it into the brink of Oscar’s DRS.
When does Haas actually plan to pit the boys?
And how is Nico two seconds slower than his teammate on tires that are only two laps older??? Does he have damage?!?!
The gap between Alex and Lance-Esteban-Ollie was growing steadily lap by lap, which didn’t bode well for their run at points. By Lap 50, the gap just between Alex and Lance was over 15 seconds. Everyone behind Esteban—except the lapped cars—was stuck in a DRS train, but at least Esteban was more protected with Ollie behind him.
Drama struck again on Lap 53.
Cars had just started pitting for their final stop. First Kimi the previous lap. Then Charles, Carlos (for his penalty), as well as Lance and Esteban.
Ferrari managed to cover off the Mercedes, but as the two cars flew around the track toward the embankment at Turn 3—right where Lewis had crashed earlier—Kimi was catching up on the inside line. He drifted toward the outer line … and hit Charles’ side-pod, knocking the Ferrari into a massive spin in a cloud of white smoke.
Ani flinched back from the TV on pure instinct, heart pounding.
Putain!
After multiple revolutions and the loss of his front wing and his back right tire, Charles’ car came to rest on the track, facing the wrong way. Yellow flags again became a safety car. Charles managed to get his car slightly off the racing line but could go no further.
Double Ferrari DNF…
Ouch!
More cars pitted, including Ollie this time, who unlike Esteban could take advantage of pitting under the safety car.
Maybe Este’s jinxed, too.
Ani shook her head. Better bad luck than incompetence or mistreatment. Haas wasn’t Alpine.
Kimi had to pit but was able to continue. He quickly received a penalty for causing the collision with Charles … and then promptly was noted for speeding in the pit lane.
Ani winced.
Not your day, is it?
The race restarted at the end of Lap 57. With all the cars that had pitted, Ollie was in P11, Lance in P12, and Esteban in P14. It wouldn’t be easy, but there might be a chance at double points. Gasly, Fernando and Bortoleto were all on old hards in P8-10, and while Yuki straight in front of Esteban was on softs, there was also a report he was having power issue.
C’mon, Este.
Ollie and Lance quickly passed Bortoleto. Esteban temporarily lost a place to Colapinto but quickly regained it, holding onto P14.
By Lap 60, Bortoleto had dropped behind Yuki and Esteban, and Ollie had climbed ahead of Fernando.
P9 and P13. Progress.
Kimi received a penalty for that speeding in the pit lane.
Lance passed Fernando either directly or because Aston switched the cars.
Both Ollie and Lance then passed Gasly on successive laps.
Then … drama struck yet again on Lap 65. Mid-lap, white smoke suddenly appeared behind Lando’s car, and he pulled to a stop between Turns 8 and 9, plummeting down the order, promoting Ollie, Lance, and Esteban. Yellows became a safety car for a third time.
That’s massive for Oscar.
Unless he screws up or George outsmarts him … that’s a podium for Hadjar, too.
And P12 for Este … he’s so close to points.
Ani set up straight, her fingers curling and releasing in the blanket, stomach tightening with nerves.
Fernando and Gasly, their tires are ancient.
With Kimi’s penalty, Este only needs to get past Yuki and one of them to finish P10.
A couple more laps ticked by under the safety car, but finally, it came in at the end of Lap 68, with a light drizzle beginning to fall on the track.
Este needs time to actually make a move!!
Everyone briefly held position at the start.
Gasly dropped behind Yuki and then behind Esteban on Lap 70. With Kimi’s penalty, now all Esteban had to do was hold on for the last couple of laps.
Please let any further rain hold off.
It’s almost done.
Just a few more minutes.
The sky was growing darker in the wide-angle shots.
After an eventful race, the chequered flag finally fell.
Another victory for Oscar. Another podium for Max, and the first podium of his F1 career for Hadjar, who had had a brilliant day. It was the third “first career podium” of the season.
And double points for Haas, a P6 and P10 that might have been a P6 and P7 if Kimi’s collision with Charles had been just slightly different.
And double points for Aston Martin, too.
I’ll need to text Lance later, Ani thought to herself, clicking off the TV and unfolding herself from the couch. Wait … there’s still those two investigations ongoing: Yuki and Gasly as well as Charles and George. We might—key word—still improve.
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Magda
Sun, Aug 31
Magda: Well, that was a little too exciting. Too much crashing and not quite enough good driving. 16:47
Magda: But double-points for Haas! No further investigation for Tsunoda and Gasly. In case you hadn’t seen. 16:48
Ani: No, I hadn’t seen. Danke. 16:48
Ani: 3 safety cars + 1 VSC plus that crash with Carlos and Lawson. Far too much excitement. I’m ready for a nap. Or well, I would be if I didn’t need to go make supper soon. 16:50
Magda: Great finish for Bearman. Season best, right? And horrid luck for your Esteban, but at least he got one point out of it. 16:51
Ani: Yes to both 16:52
Magda: ❤️❤️ Your Esteban congratulated Bearman over the radio.[4] He doesn’t sound too downbeat, at least. 16:52
Ani: ❤️ It’s bad if Este sounds upset on the radio. He usually saves strong feelings for the debrief. 16:53
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Este 🕷️
Sun, Aug 31
Ani: Really horrid luck today, Este, but you did what you could 16:46
Ani: And you still got 1 point and double points for the team. Well done 16:47
Ani: Looking forward to having you home tonight. My curiosity about Ollie’s present can finally be assuaged! 🤣 16:51
Esteban: Bonjour, chérie. I have 5 minutes before debrief 17:39
Esteban: A very crazy race and yes, bad luck. We knew there was something to play for. We tried a difficult plan to get to somewhere 17:40
Ani: And it worked … partially. Good rebound after yesterday 17:40
Esteban: Ollie said the most he was hoping for was P10 17:40
Esteban: “I’m not quite sure what happened in the last two hours.”[5] 17:41
Ani: I can believe that! What happened with the safety car? 17:41
Esteban: It came out while I was stopped 17:41
Ani: Of course it did 17:42
Esteban: Bad luck. But Ollie was fantastic![6] And Isack’s podium was well deserved. And still … one point 17:42
Ani: And points for Lance as well! 17:42
Esteban: Oui 17:42
Esteban: Ollie will be happy for you to have your present, too. He’s been dying of impatience all week 17:43
Ani: 🤣 Text me when you’re ready to leave for the airport, s’il te plaît 17:43
Esteban:👍 17:44
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The sound of the front door of their apartment door opening jolted Ani out of a light doze. She was lying in bed, a throw blanket tucked over her socked feet, and her phone was resting on her stomach from where it had slipped out of her grip when she dozed off. Pushing up on one elbow, she checked her smart watch. It was almost 10:30pm.
“Este?” she called.
There was a low dull thump that she deeply hoped wasn’t him running a hand, foot, elbow or any other body part into the wall.
“C’est moi, chérie,”[7] his familiar voice called back. “Stay in the bedroom, s'il te plaît.”
Ani blinked. “Okay. I’m sitting in bed”—she levered herself up as she said this—“and it’s too late for moving, anyway.”
There was a squeak and a clatter that she recognize as his suitcase, another dull thump that could be him setting his backpack down, and then his footsteps drew closer, coming down the hall.
“Close your eyes, Ani.” His voice echoed a little.
She blinked a little but did as requested, closing both eyes and not just closing her good eye, leaving her prosthetic to stare back at him teasingly.
Footsteps entered the room … with a quiet brushing sound … and a muttered curse.
“Okay.” Esteban sounded ridiculously pleased with himself. “You can open your eye now.”
Ani opened her eye.
Her jaw dropped.
And she just stared.
Esteban was standing by the side of the bed, dressed in a hoodie and jeans, curls messy. From his arms dangled an Obbie bear. Not a little 5-inch one like Ollie had given her in Silverstone, but a giant one. Like half as tall as Esteban giant. Literally. Giant like someone had perfectly replicated the original sweet bear (hoodie and all) … and just scaled it up to chaos-size.
“Well”—her voice was slightly strangled—“that explains the ‘I may have overdone it.’”
Her husband smiled. “Obbie … Size XXXL, special edition, unique collector’s item just for my Ani.”
Her vision filled with tears, and she held out her arms. Esteban tucked the bear down into her arms and then perched beside her on the bed, leaning around the bear enough to kiss her forehead.
“I brought you a new roommate,” he said, voice wry.
“That or furniture,” Ani replied, voice thick.
The bear was so soft, its smile gentle.
Oh, Ollie! I love it.
“It’s very Ollie,” she added a minute later, giving the bear a squeeze and pressing her cheek to the top of its head. One of her hands slid down its arm to its paw, and she shook its hand, although the angle was awkward.
Esteban began to laugh. “Your hand is smaller than its paw.”
Ani giggled, laughter replacing the sheen of tears in her eye. “It is!” She listed a little into his side, resting her head on his shoulder, and his arm immediately came up to encircle her waist. “How did you get it home?”
“Very carefully.” His voice was dry with amusement. “And buckled into its own seat … at Ollie’s insistence.” She had been inside GlobeAir’s planes frequently enough to be able to imagine the scene. “If I hadn’t been flying private, I would have needed an extra suitcase … or an extra ticket.”
“What did they think—the crew, that is?”
“There were wide eyes, and then there were smiles.”
Ani smiled, giving Giant Obbie another squeeze. “I can imagine. Now … the problem is where to put him.”
“He’s too big for your nightstand.”
“Just slightly…”
“And the bed is not big enough for three,” Esteban finished. “The spare bed or the couch then?”
“Couch, please,” she replied after a moment’s thought. “He can migrate … as needed.”
He stood, taking the bear carefully from her arms. “I’ll take him and then text Ollie that Obbie has arrived safely. He’s already texted me … three times? Four times?”
“I think …,” said Ani when he had returned from the living room. “Giant Obbie has a hoodie, but maybe he needs a scarf, too, so he doesn’t get cold.” It came out half like a question.
Esteban’s face split into a broad grin. “Ma muse is a genius. He definitely needs a scarf.”
Ihre Spidey, Son Storm - Chapter 27: Zandvoort, Part 1
Summary: After a devastating crash at the WSK Euro Series at La Conca in May 2011 ended her karting career and left her blind in one eye, Saarbrücken racer Annika “Ani” Kramer has reinvented herself as a freelance video game concept artist, inspired by a childhood love of comic books. Now she balances her art work with the high-stakes world of Formula 1 as she supports her husband Esteban Ocon through the twists and turns of his own racing career. The Alpine era has ended with the sting of betrayal, a race undriven and a special helmet (designed together) unworn, but the Haas era has just begun. She just had not expected for the 2025 season to bring Esteban a rookie teammate in Ollie Bearman and her a grid little brother to befriend and nurture with snacks and a bear scarf knitted with love.
Notes: Apologies for the delay since the last chapter. My brain has not been braining, exacerbated by my hate-hate relationship with jet-lag.
The dry afternoon heat of Geneva almost smacked Ani in the face as she stepped out of the air-conditioned depths of the airport arrival’s hall. On one hand, it was certainly no warmer here, not even at the heat of the day, than it had been in Greece, but the sheer contrast of stepping from overzealous air-conditioning into bright sun made the transition feel more extreme. She squinted against the light, pushing her sunglasses further up the bridge of her nose with the back of her hand, a method that did not involve a high risk of jabbing herself in the eye, and then checked her watch.
I’m early.
The ride Henri scheduled for me was for 2:30pm.
Not quite that time yet.
She had stepped outside just long enough to see whether she saw a familiar company car or the familiar face of one of its drivers, but glimpsing neither, Ani retreated back into the arrivals hall, grateful for its shadowed depths more than the AC. With one eye, the bright sun was like … visual overload.
Maria had said it was safe for her to stay at home in Geneva by herself, as long as you’re not an idiot, eat well, drink enough, and take the proper precautions, and thus Ani was returning home for the first time in six-and-a-half weeks, a short, planned absence post-Goodwood lengthening due to her anemia. Esteban would return from his training camp in Annecy in a couple of hours and would not leave for Zandvoort until Wednesday, which gave Ani about two days to adjust to different routines at home again before she spent her first day alone in over a month-and-a-half.
Her driver soon arrived, and just under twenty minutes later, traffic heavier today than usual, she was home.
The glass windows on the front of their apartment building in Les Eaux-Vives glinted dazzlingly in the afternoon sun, and behind them the sun also gleamed and reflecting off the clear blue waters of the lake.
Home sweet home.
Ani had only a single suitcase and her backpack to manage, although the latter was stuffed more heavily than usual, a consequence of necessary rearranging to fit all her birthday presents. The straps seemed to weigh heavier on her shoulders than what passed for normal these days, and she could feel her pace slowing as she stepped inside, fumbling for her keys one-handed in her purse so she could access the elevator. It was discouraging to still feel how quickly her well of energy could be depleted.
But … you managed the trip from Everux to Paris.
You made it through security and boarding and the flight here and baggage claim.
You’re exhausted but still on your feet. That’s progress.
Este would tell you the same thing. Maria, too.
Ani deeply wanted a nap, but there was unpacking to do and groceries to order first. There might be time to lie down briefly before Esteban got home, and if all other plans failed … we can call it an early night tonight.
Henri, her favorite of the day-shift concierges, looked up as she entered the lobby, blinked in surprise, and then smiled kindly, the warmth of the expression on his creased face giving him quite a grandfatherly appearance. “Bonjour, madame! Welcome home. You’ve been on a very long trip.”
Ani smiled ruefully. “It’s been an … unusual six weeks. We weren’t planning on being gone this long.”
Henri nodded sagely. “Life has a way of throwing surprises at us, doesn’t it. I have kept your packages and your mail. Do you want them right now … or later?”
“Este will be back from Annecy in a couple of hours. Give them to him … unless it’s more than one load?” As tired as she felt, trying to carry more sounded like a recipe for dropping something or tripping over her own feet, even in familiar halls.
“Monsieur Esteban could carry all the packages at once and still see over them”—that made Ani snort with laughter—“but he would just need something to put your mail in. There is quite a bundle.”
“After six weeks, I’m sure.” Bills, catalogs, maybe a few birthday cards. We’ll see what’s all there. “Leave it for him. One of us can always come back tomorrow to get the rest if he can’t manage it all.”
Henri nodded again. “Of course, madame. Have a good afternoon.”
“Merci. Toi aussi.”
————————————————————————————————
The air inside felt stale as Ani entered her and Esteban’s apartment, tucking her keys back into her purse and letting the door swing shut behind her with a soft squeak. That’s new, that squeak. First, she turned on the hallway lights. Then she parked her suitcase along the wall and kicked off her shoes. Coming home, exhausted but not feeling like she had been run over by the VF-25, felt like Ani was reopening a chapter of her life.
So next …
Crack the windows to air everything out.
Check the fridge temperature.
Order groceries.
Unpack the essentials.
Sit down.
And just maybe take a catnap.
It was a straightforward to-do list, and having a list helped her focus when she was tired. Ani padded through the apartment, flipping on lights, cracking windows, and eyeballing that nothing looked or … smelled … odd, a sign of something having malfunctioned in their absence. The fridge was humming along smoothly, but two small packages in the freezer had acquired noticeable freezer burn so she pitched them.
Some unpacking was necessary before ordering groceries simply because Ani needed her laptop to put in a Coop order for that afternoon. Yes, there was an app, but she preferred the actual website. Today, she could get enough for dinner tonight and breakfast and lunch tomorrow, and tomorrow, she could order enough for the next several days … while Este is still here to help me haul everything upstairs.
Once groceries were ordered, she continued unpacking her backpack. The first thing Ani pulled out of the main compartment was her Hungarian salami stuffie with its googly eyes and mustache that really did look exactly like Valtteri’s, and like every other time she had looked at it over the last couple of weeks, she promptly smiled and giggled.
“A stuffed salami!” she murmured to herself. “Who would have thought it!?”
With the little VF-25 and the groundhog from Montreal, cheetah from Monaco, and Obbie from Silverstone, her nightstand was getting crowded, but there was room for the salami to take pride of place by the base of the lamp, while still leaving room for her phone, watch, and a coaster.
A bigger grin suddenly stretched across her face. If there was one other person who would probably laugh himself silly at a stuffed salami, it would be Ollie. “I should send him a picture.”
————————————————————————————————
Ollie 🧸
Mon, Aug 25
Ani: Pic: A dark-wooden nightstand crowded with stuffed animals. Particularly prominent are Obbie, as well as the stuffed salami, lying against the base of a lamp, the body of which is shaped like a Gothic vase flanked by two dragons with outstretched wings. 15:27
Ani: What does one name a stuffed salami? 15:28
Ollie: 👀 🤣🤣🤣 😹😹 15:30
Ollie: GIF: A cartoon owl convulsing with laughter and rolling around on a stone wall. WHERE DID YOU GET THAT??? THAT’S SO AWESOME!! 15:31
Ollie: Please let me show Thomas!!!! 15:32
Ani: Tom and Michel got it for me at the airport in Budapest 15:32
Ani: You can show your brother. 15:33
Ollie: We think you should name him Valtteri. Because of that mustache! 15:39
Ollie: Definitely Valtteri. Alicia is laughing at us! 15:40
Ani: Valtteri it is! 15:42
————————————————————————————————
Este 🕷️
Mon, Aug 25
Esteban: Landed 16:52
Esteban: In a cab 17:29
Ani: Let me know when you’re close. Henri has some packages for you to carry upstairs. Apparently, you should be able to see over them. But I’ll get the door for you. 17:30
————————————————————————————————
The doorway framed Esteban, his rolling suitcase at his hip, the stack of boxes pinned in place in his arms by his chin. A few curls hung loose down over his forehead, and he was smiling as Ani stepped back, holding the door open for him.
“Leave your suitcase,” she said. “I’ll get it.”
“Merci,” he replied, slipping past her and disappearing into the kitchen. “Table or counter?”
“Wherever is easiest,” Ani called back, stepping into the hall just long enough to grab his suitcase and roll it inside, parking it where her suitcase had been parked a few hours earlier.
The door clicked shut behind her, and she twisted the deadbolt closed.
“What did you buy?” Esteban asked, his voice echoing out of the kitchen.
“At this point, I have no idea.”
“Nothing perishable, I hope.”
“If I had, it would have smelled long before now, and Henri would have noticed.”
Esteban reappeared in the doorway, let his backpack down onto the floor by his suitcase, and then tugged Ani into his arms. “Summer break always spoils me into getting used to you being with me every day.”
Ani tucked herself tightly into his chest, his shirt soft against her cheek, and wrapped her arms around his back, savoring the feeling of being held. “I missed you, too, Este.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Tired, but I did a lot today, so I’m allowed to be tired,” she replied. “I took a cat nap after the groceries arrived.”
“But you don’t feel worse?”
She shook her head, her forehead bumping into his chest with the motion. “No, just tired—good tired. Not like when I got home after Miami and felt like I’d been run over by your VF-25.”
His arms tightened around her at that. Esteban didn’t say anything, but she could almost hear his thoughts: I wish you had told me then. He kissed her hair and then, when she leaned back and tilted her face up, her lips. There was the faint taste of something sweet, whatever he had been eating or drinking last.
“What are your plans for the rest of the day?” he asked.
Her answer came out half like a question. “Eat supper and don’t fall asleep on the couch?”
Esteban laughed and kissed her again. “I think we can manage that. You said you got groceries—do you want to make supper, or should we order something?”
Ani reluctantly stepped out of the circle of his arms so that they could move from the hallway to the bedroom to deposit his luggage where it belonged. “Pasta? I bought pasta sauce and pre-cooked sausage from Coop, so all we would have to do is cook pasta and heat everything. We could even manage it all in one pan.”
“That would be quick,” he replied, “and I can do the dishes.”
“I gratefully accept your offer.” She smiled ruefully and then added, “I figured you would want to be home before I went anywhere near the kitchen knives for the first time.”
There was a long pause. “Yes.” His voice was dry.
“So supper, dishes, and … Black Panther?” suggested Esteban, setting his backpack down on the bench at the end of their bed where Ani sometimes sat to put on her shoes.
“Or Spiderman,” she countered. “We can decide later.” A yawn slurred those words.
He grinned. “Today, whatever is shortest, so I can put you to bed, or you might fall asleep on the couch yet.”
Ani made a face of wry agreement. “That … would probably be wise.”
————————————————————————————————
Tuesday, August 26, 2025
Just as The Wizard of Oz said, there was no place like home.
Especially when it came to sleeping in your own bed.
Ani found herself hovering on the edge of sleep, not quite asleep, not quite awake—just drifting warm and comfortable and disinclined to move—for some time as the light slowly brightened behind her eyelid.
What brought her closer to wakefulness was reaching a hand across the bed to find Esteban’s shoulder or the edge of his t-shirt and finding only empty sheets, cool to the touch.
Reluctantly, she cracked her eye open, squinting momentarily.
The indent of his head was gone from his pillow, so Esteban had been up for some minutes, and the way the covers were carefully tucked around her indicated he hadn’t just gotten up to go to the bathroom.
For a moment, she felt a rush of emotion that swirled in her chest in a shade somewhere between wistful and miffed. His first morning home again with her before Zandvoort—she had wanted to wake up in his arms.
Then Ani rolled over and saw the note tied loosely with a scrap of yarn around Obbie’s neck, written in her husband’s usual quirky handwriting.
MAKING BREAKFAST. STAY IN BED. ESTEBAN
A smile broke across her face, and she made a face at herself for her own momentary displeasure. Now that she stopped to listen, she could even hear the sounds of Esteban moving around in the kitchen down the hall. Squeaks, a clatter, sizzles, the thump of the toaster, the rattle of the bottles in the fridge door.
Ani disobeyed Esteban’s instruction long enough to get up and use the bathroom and put in her eye but then crawled back into bed, flopping down onto her back and picking up Obbie up off her nightstand. The little bear sat crooked on her chest, head tilted forward. For a minute, she fussed with the string and the note around his neck, first trying to just grab the string (which took multiple tries) and then work the long loop of yarn, a piece from her scrap bag, over his neck. None of it worked well until she finally moved the bear from her chest down to her stomach, and the extra distance made it easier to work with her limited vision rather than against it.
No sooner had she tucked the note under her phone and returned Obbie to the nightstand, then Ani heard footsteps in the hallway, and a second later, Esteban himself appeared in the half-open doorway. He had a coffee cup in one hand and a glass of juice in the other, and the bottle with her iron pills was sticking out of his pocket. There was a damp spot on the front of his hoodie like he had dripped water on the counter and then accidentally pressed up against it.
He smiled as soon as he saw she was awake. “Bonjour, chérie.”
“Guten Tag, Este.”
“Tes médicaments,”[1] he added, once he had set down his coffee on his nightstand, coming back around the bed and giving first her pills than her juice.
“Danke,” she replied, tilting her face up to except his proffered kiss. “Du brauchtest kein Frühstück zuzubereiten.”[2]
Esteban shrugged and then grinned. “Je voulais…”[3]
Ani grinned back, smiling at the beginning of their game. Often they spoke primarily French to one another; sometimes they spoke primarily Moselle Franconian, and she teased him about his accent. Other times he spoke French, she German, and the game was too see how long it took before one of them slipped and code-switched mid-sentence. They had done it once without thinking while talking to Ollie; he had stared at them like his eyes were crossing and then literally begged them to stop because he couldn’t make his brain follow both languages simultaneously, although he could understand both individually.
“Do you need help carrying anything?” she asked.
He shook his head. “One trip for the glasses, one trip for the food.”
Esteban returned a minute later with their food. He had requisitioned one of her cookie sheets as a makeshift tray. Her plate had a pain au chocolat and multiple boiled eggs.
“You went out?” she asked.
I don’t remember buying any pastries yesterday.
He nodded, the bed dipping under him for a moment as he sat back down. “We can save the baguette for lunch. You deserved a treat, anyway.”
Ani sent him a sweet smile. “You spoil me.”
The resulting face Esteban made showed that he clearly though that was an exaggeration.
They chit-chatted over breakfast, sliding between topics.
“Did you see the news?” Esteban asked when she was halfway through her pain au chocolat and deliberating over whether she wanted to go into the kitchen for mustard for her eggs.
Ani blinked, set down her pastry. “What news—F1 or general?”
“Cadillac.”
Her eye widened. “No! Did they finally announce their drivers? Chris Medland was saying just yesterday that it should be soon.”
Esteban nodded.
“Who?” She flapped one hand back over her shoulder toward her nightstand. “I don’t want to get crumbs all over my phone.”
“Valtteri and Checo.”[4]
Not surprising.
“Cadillac will need veterans to help them get up to speed faster,” Ani noted and then made a face. “Just as long as Checo remembers he’s not playing bowling … or bumper cars.” A grin stole across her face. “Thinking of Valtteri … my salami has been named.”
Esteban just stared at her for a moment, and then a matching grin lit up his face. “You named it Valtteri?” He was on the verge of laughter.
Ani shook her head. “Nein. Ollie and Thomas did. Yesterday. I sent him a picture.”
“I will have to remember this for when I see Ollie tomorrow.”
————————————————————————————————
After breakfast, they stripped the bed and started laundry like responsible adults. Ani had wanted to wash the sheets anyway—they had been gathering dust for six weeks—but after they had dropped crumbs on the bed, it especially needed to get done.
And Este needs clean clothes for Zandvoort.
Esteban told her about some of Haas’ preparations for the Dutch GP as they sorted clothes, and Ani grimaced when he told her the forecast for that weekend, which could be summarized as “rain, more rain, and yet more rain” for Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.[5]
Once the first load of laundry was started and the work of adulting shelved for the moment, they gravitated into the room that was 85% Esteban’s at-home sim but also had a tall row of shelving that held Ani’s extra knitting and art supplies and a giant stuffed chair for when she wanted to watch him play. Gran Turismo 7 was his choice today. Ani spent most of the time, not broken up by switching loads from washer to dryer, curled up in her chair watching him race, but after lunch, he talked her into driving.
In an actual car, her impaired depth-perception and limited field-of-view made her an actual danger. On a sim, not so much. Ani could drive. She just crashed.
A lot.
A newbie karter could probably corner better than she could, but Esteban, leaning over her shoulder and murmuring advice, crowed like she won a race every-time she even half-nailed an apex.
She could have kissed him.
And did once she finally got up to stretch and gave him his seat back.
Over dinner, the conversation turned more serious.
“What do you want me to tell Ollie?” Esteban asked over pizza.
“About?” Ani replied with a frown, brow furrowing with momentary confusion.
“You,” he replied bluntly. “In Spa, I told him you had the flu. Since it was a double-header, that explained Hungary as well.”
“But it won’t explain Zandvoort…” she finished, voice trailing off, seeing immediately where his train of thought was going.
Scheiße!
I didn’t even think of that.
Ani was slowly feeling better, but there wasn’t enough fuel in her tank yet for the long, busy, and stressful days that made up an F1 race weekend, including all the mental, visual, and auditory overload. In making her decision not to go again this double-header, she had totally forgotten that Ollie would almost certainly be expecting her back now after summer break.
“Scheiße,” she repeated aloud.
“It’s your health, your decision,” Esteban continued. “You don’t need to decide tonight, but I need to know before I leave tomorrow. Ollie is going to ask.”
“Yeah, he will,” Ani murmured, wiping grease off her fingers, her gaze drifting off to middle distance.
She thought of Ollie.
Of how his shy smiles at testing had turned into eager grins long before Goodwood.
Of how his German had improved steadily over the months, Ollie seeking her out willingly for conversation after conversation, not just polite chatter because she was his teammate’s wife, until his accent sounded more likes her than that of the schoolboy Hochdeutsch he had learned in England.
Of how he had brought her an Obbie bear.
Of how he still accepted his weekly caramels like she had given him something precious, not just the month-long continuation of an inside joke.
Of how he had almost begged her to come with him for that ride at Goodwood.
“Tell him,” Ani said eventually. “Tell him … the truth when he asks. Not all the little, gory details, not like we might tell Lance, but tell him enough so he understands.” She bit her lip, pausing, and then added, “In Austria, you said he is like my brother, and you were right. He deserves to understand.”
————————————————————————————————
————————————————————————————————
Este 🕷️
Wed, Aug 27
Ani: When you get home, I want to watch the Grill the Grid finale.[6] You can be my translator. Oscar and Gasly’s faces are so funny in the YT thumbnail. 15:02
Esteban: Ah, yes. The “how badly can we describe a race and still make it vaguely guessable” challenge. That was … different 🤣 15:37
Esteban: At the hotel. 16:00
Esteban: Ollie looked like I’d kicked his puppy when I told him you weren’t with me. 16:22
Ani: 😢 16:23
Esteban:Do you need anything right now? Or soon? 17:21
Ani: No, I don’t think so. My plans for this evening are simple: Make Schnitzel, Re-re-re-re-watch your win. Why? 17:22
Esteban:Ollie and I are going driving.[7] I am driving because he is a hooligan. If you need me, text him, and tell him to tell me to check my phone. 17:25
Ani: 🫡 Have fun. If Ollie were driving, I’d say good luck 17:26
Esteban:Back at the hotel 20:38
Ani: That was quite a road-trip! Did you drive all the way to Belgium?? 20:38
Esteban:If we had, we wouldn’t be back yet. We did a loop: Zandvoort, Rotterdam, Utrecht, Zandvoort. With a stop to buy supper 20:39
Ani: Did you tell him? 20:39
Esteban:Yes. Before we talked about the race and everything else 20:40
Ani: How did he react? 20:40
Esteban:He went very quiet for several minutes. 20:40
Esteban:Then he wanted to know if you were really going to be okay. Actual okay. Not Max-after-Silverstone-2021 okay. 20:41
Ani: You reassured him I would? 20:41
Esteban:Oui 20:41
Ani: Good. Thank you for telling him. This isn’t the type of thing to tell over text. 20:42
Esteban:De rien[8]. Also, I have a surprise for you. Or well, I should say, I am the messenger. 20:42
Ani: 👀 Sorry. Was refilling my water glass. 20:47
Esteban:Ollie has a birthday present for you. It wasn’t ready in time for Hungary. He was really hoping to give it to you this week, but 20:48
Ani: I’m still not traveling. 20:48
Esteban:Do you want a picture now? Or do you want to be surprised on Sunday? It’s … very Ollie. 20:49
Ani: I’m not sure whether I should be worried or not. Can I have a clue before I decide? 20:49
Esteban:“I may have overdone it,” he said. 20:50
Ani: Okay, now I’m worried. In a good way. Uh … It’s not alive, is it??? 20:50
Esteban:Non. It is neither an animal nor a plant. 20:51
Esteban: If you wait, you will get … the full experience. 20:52
Ani: 🤣🤣 Just for that, I shall wait until Sunday. 20:53
————————————————————————————————
Ollie 🧸
Thur, Aug 28
Ollie: It’s posted! Finally! You have to watch it! Please! 🥺 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vylke4pLqlI 08:49
Ani: Bonjour, Ollie. What is “it”? 09:07
Ollie: Hi, Ani! Guten Morgen. A video I did with Quadrant over break. I went karting. IN DISGUISE!! 09:14
Ani: Quadrant does videos in English, petit ours… 09:15
Ollie: There’s a French audio track. And a German one, too. I made sure of it. 09:15
Ani: I will watch it while I eat breakfast then. Merci, Ollie. Really. 09:16
Ollie: Thank you by the way 09:19
Ani: For what?? 09:19
Ollie: For trusting me. Enough to tell me how you really are 09:19
Ani: You’re family. I wanted you to know more than the polite version 09:21
Ollie: 😭 You’re going to make me cry. 09:21
Ollie: I’ve been worried about you. Alicia, too, but I won’t tell her what Esteban said. We miss you. Feel better soon. 09:22
Ollie: I’m sending a very late birthday present home for you with Esteban. I don’t know if he’s showed you already. 09:23
Ani: He told me last night that you were sending something. And you are very sweet, petit ours, to think of me. I’ve decided to wait to be surprised when he brings it home. 09:24
Ollie: I … may have overdone it. But I hope you love it. 09:24
Ani: I’m certain I will. 09:25
Ollie: We’re still thinking about you even while you’re gone. 09:25
————————————————————————————————
@estebanocon is with @olliebearman: “Race week again! 🇳🇱🏖️”
[Pic: Panda Ollie and Spider Bear, as well as an anthropomorphic Hungarian salami, are sitting on a window sill, looking down at glittering white sands and, beyond, the bright blue waters of the North Sea.]
@TeamHaasForever: “He lives! Nearly radio silent since Hungary but Ocon lives and the series continues.”
@Haasterplan: “This is the THIRD time this year that a stuffie guest star has gotten tagged as Ani, and now it’s a salami??? WHAT IS THE STORY??”
@SpideyRacer: “Wasn’t her birthday during Hungary? That toy is definitely from there. Maybe it’s something he got her.”
@BearconRules: “I wonder if she’ll be back this week, or maybe she sent along a good luck charm.”
@PaddockPals: “It’s so sweet they’ve continued this series this long.”
————————————————————————————————
Este 🕷️
Thur, Aug 28
Esteban: At the track.[9] We just missed the rain. 10:12
Ani: Rain today, too?? Is the next three days not enough?? 10:12
Esteban: So Ollie just arrived. The first thing he says, “Tell Ani she’s not allowed to make me cry before I’ve woken up and had coffee.” Do I want to know? 10:25
Ani: Oh, Ollie! He was thanking me for trusting him enough to tell him about the anemia. I told him he was family. 10:26
Esteban: Good 10:27
Ani: Oh, you’ll be happy to know: I accomplished my goal of making schnitzel last night and none of my fingers are either flattened or cut 10:30
Esteban: I assumed as much when you didn’t say anything. 10:30
Esteban: It is still raining 13:12
Ani: STILL? 13:12
Esteban: I’m not sure it’s stopped all morning 13:12
Ani: Maybe the weather will get it out of its system today, and it’ll be dry tomorrow 🤞🤞13:15
Esteban: The tunnel under the track has flooded.[10] 14:07
Ani: SERIOUSLY?!?! 14:09
Esteban: Oui. Deep enough you can’t get through on foot. Some buggies are making it through though. 14:10
Ani: Este … This isn’t going to turn into Imola from the other year, is it? 14:11
Esteban: Non. Or at least there’s no reports that it should. The rain all day just took advantage of a low spot. 14:17
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————————————————————————————————
Ollie 🧸
Thur, Aug 28
Ollie: There was a spider in my driver’s room 15:02
Ani: ☠️ Does facilities need to patch your ceiling? 15:04
Ollie: No 🤣 Esteban heard me yelp and rescued me. His helpful advice WHILE rescuing me: “Maybe if you get bitten, maybe you get Spider-Man.”[11] 15:05
Ani: What a very Este thing to say 🤣🤣 15:05
Ollie:
16:09
Ani: Very cute. What am I looking at?? 16:09
Ollie: Sticker competition for Zandvoort.[12] Or rather the winner 16:09
Ani: It’s adorable. He/she is very talented 16:10
Ollie: She 16:10
Ani: Maybe I’ll make you one next time there’s a competition. I help Este with his helmets sometimes 16:12
Ollie: YOU DON’T NEED A COMPETITION. If you make me a sticker, it gets pride of place WHENEVER 16:17
