The roar of the crowd was deafening as Carlos crossed the finish line, securing victory at the Mexican Grand Prix. Your heart pounded in your chest, not just from the excitement of the race but from the overwhelming pride of seeing him succeed—here, in your home, in front of your people.

You rushed to the podium celebration, weaving through the sea of red and gold confetti, your emotions heightened by the electric atmosphere. The second he spotted you, Carlos grinned, his face still glistening with champagne, and pulled you into his arms.

“You did it,” you breathed against his ear, holding him tight.

“I did,” he said, but there was something in his voice—something more. His heart was racing just as fast as yours.

Then, as the cheers continued, Carlos suddenly took a step back. Right there, in the midst of the celebration, he reached into his race suit pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.

The world seemed to slow down.

“Mi amor,” he began, his voice steady but full of emotion. “There’s nothing in this world I want more than to keep celebrating every victory, every loss, every moment—with you. Will you marry me?”

Tears welled in your eyes as the crowd erupted again, this time not just for the race, but for this moment—your moment.