Chapter 29
Ava
@LIGHTS_OUT_GOSSIP
Bom dia, babes. It’s Brazilian Grand Prix day, and the world’s most passionate fans are out in force.
However, we haven’t seen Zaid Yousef’s biggest fan lately.
Ava Farahani apparently hasn’t been spotted in the paddock since Singapore, which has us wondering if Baby Farahani-Yousef is with us yet or will be here soon.
Analyze these bump photos and leave your guesses in the comments about her due date!
COMMENTS
gridgrrrrrrlz can we PLEASE stop commenting on women’s bodies it’s so gross
Mascort4Life I’m not one to typically buy into rumors, but I’m really starting to wonder if Zaid’s planning to move teams. He’s been acting so strange lately. I think Farahani’s daughter has convinced Zaid to leave Mascort and go to Specter Energy. If he does, it will be an absolute betrayal.
dambrosiclownshow ‘I’m not one to typically buy into rumors’ you’re literally on a gossip page mate
no1_axel_berg_fan I thought he would retire before ever considering going to specter. if they try to make him the number 1 driver over axel I swear to GOD I will burn the whole team down
lala09678 that’s a fake bump there is no baby
mrsreidcoleman i’ve been thinking the same thing she’s been pregnant for soooo long it has to be fake
no1_axel_berg_fan lord send the flood I can’t believe I have to live on the same planet as you people
Northern Virginia
The time has finally come. I’m officially too pregnant to travel.
I thought I might struggle with no longer being able to follow the circus, but honestly, it’s been nice to slow down and finally start nesting.
I’ve set up camp back home in Virginia with the cats and – of all people – Zaid’s mother.
There were a few vague conversations about her coming to help out after the baby was born, but I must have missed the part about her showing up two weeks before my C-section date and declaring she was here to take care of me.
I guess that’s just how moms operate – they simply arrive on your doorstep with a suitcase and sheer audacity.
Together we’ve weathered watching Zaid taking the second step of the podium in Austin and Mexico City, our hands clutched together as we shouted at the TV and grumbled over Axel’s wins.
In secret, I messaged Axel my congratulations, though I think Mariam might have known what I was up to, considering she only offered me one snack that day instead of the five she usually tries to force on me.
Now, tomorrow’s my C-section, and I’m ready for this baby to be in my arms instead of kicking my ribs so hard I swear they’ve all cracked.
But no matter how ready I feel, I’m nervous for what’s to come.
My life is about to change in a major way, one I’ve been looking forward to for years, and now that it’s imminent, I can’t help but worry over what could go wrong.
I’ve thought more about my mom lately than I have in years, wishing I had her here to walk me through this new phase of life.
I’m torn between smiling at the good memories and crying over the fact that we’ll never make more together.
That she’ll never meet her granddaughter.
That I won’t have her here to stroke my hair and tell me everything’s going to be okay.
But I take comfort in the fact that I’m not motherless.
Every night, Mariam rubs my belly, speaking to Noor in Arabic and promising her the world.
Edith calls in the mornings to check on how I’ve slept and regales me with tales of her own pregnancies, reassuring me that everything I’m suffering through now will be over soon.
Even my maman bozorg calls and tells me in a mix of Farsi and English exactly how to care for myself after the baby is born and all the remedies that will help along the way.
These women, these mothers, are all here for me in ways I know my own mom would be if she could, and their care is everything I need.
Of course, I’m lucky to have a partner who’s willing to do anything for me too.
Zaid flew in after the last two races, spending a couple of days here before moving on to the next destination, and it made me even more grateful for his retirement plans.
I was right to not want a racing driver for the father of my child – the stress of hoping and praying they come home safe to you is the worst of it all, but the ridiculous schedule doesn’t help either.
Today marks the end of a grueling triple-header in the Americas, and when Zaid’s flight touches down in the early hours of tomorrow morning, he’ll have two weeks to spend with me and our baby before the last three races of the season kick off.
I’m desperate for that uninterrupted time together, for us to bond with Noor and adjust to the life of being new parents.
But first, I need him to make it through the Brazilian Grand Prix.
The race hasn’t even started and I’m already pacing, mostly because I have a metric ton of anxiety to work off thanks to the narrow margin Zaid is carrying in the championship, but also because I’m too uncomfortable to sit for very long these days.
I’m exhausted and achy and teary and restless, juiced up with hormones that have me laughing one minute and sobbing the next, all while this baby kicks and punches my already bruised organs.
This has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done and I’ve had an easy experience, all things considered.
I’m grateful to my body for growing this child and for the opportunity to even be pregnant, but fuck, it hasn’t been all sunshine and rainbows.
The struggles have taught me lessons that I’ve needed, though, like it’s okay to let myself be cared for and to accept that I can’t control everything.
Most of all, it’s been a lesson in letting love in.
I keep pacing as Mariam and I watch the last of the pre-race show, still moving as the cars file to their grid spots.
I only stop when the first of the red lights flicks on, then hold my breath until all five are aglow, and the air leaves me in a rush when they go out.
Zaid is quick off the line, leading everyone into the first corner and keeping his P1 spot as the lap twists on.
My pacing picks up again as Axel attempts to charge down the inside, but Zaid makes fending him off look like easy work.
I finally sit when Zaid has a five-second gap between himself and Axel, gingerly lowering myself down beside Mariam, who immediately grasps my hand in hers. It’s probably to keep me from getting up to pace again, but I appreciate the comforting gesture nonetheless.
‘He’s going to win,’ she says, so serene that I almost ask her what drugs she’s on and where I can get some.
But all it comes down to is pure belief. She knows her son can do this and doesn’t have a single doubt about it.
‘He can do it,’ I tell myself.
And he does. After seventy-one laps, he crosses the line with Axel a full ten seconds behind him, growing the points gap of the Drivers’ Championship in his favor.
Mascort already claimed the Constructors’ Championship back in Mexico City, thanks to Zaid and Dev’s solid teamwork, but it’s been too close to call the Driver’s Championship yet.
All that’s left to determine is the battle between Zaid and Axel.
I don’t look away from the TV as Zaid climbs out of the car, taking a moment to thrust his fist into the air in victory. When Mariam squeezes my hand again, I glance over to find her grinning, and soon I’m mirroring it back at her, the stress of watching Zaid race melting away.
Zaid’s smiling too when he walks over for the post-race interview, hair damp with sweat as he pushes it back from his face.
He’s happier today than I’ve seen him after any race so far this season, and even the answers he gives the interviewer are upbeat and teasing.
It’s a glimpse of the Zaid the world used to see more of in years past, the one that slowly disappeared as the seasons got longer and the stress got heavier.
He’s lighter now, with a spark of life in his eyes, and I can’t wait to have him back beside me.
‘We’ll have to make this podium quick so I can get out of here,’ he tells the interviewer before turning a wide smile to the camera. ‘I’m about to be a dad.’