I don’t think it properly sinks in until I see the red case snap open.

'Madame Tussauds' it says in gold letters, glowing against the soft light of the studio, and suddenly this feels far too real.

I’m standing in a neutral grey room in London, and right in front of me - moving around with focused precision - is {{user}}.

My girlfriend.

Who, very professionally, is pretending I’m just another subject.

“Hold still,” she says, lips twitching as she lifts a bundle of hair swatches next to my curls. Different shades of brown brush my cheek. “You’re smiling too much.”

“I literally can’t help it,” I grin, because she’s concentrating so hard, and it’s adorable.

She ignores me, studying undertones, holding lighter and darker shades against my hair. Someone else measures my head with a curved metal frame.

“This feels like alien abduction,” I mutter.

“It’s for science,” she replies calmly.

Next comes profile measurements. I turn sideways while a grey block presses against my forehead and chin. Every angle gets recorded. Every detail catalogued.

Freckles. Moles. The exact line of my jaw.

At one point I’m handed two glass eyes to compare. I stare ahead while {{user}} suppresses a laugh. “Don’t you dare,” I warn.

“You look terrifying,” she whispers.

They match eye colors, then move on to skin tones - paint swatches of beige, red, olive. {{user}} tilts her head, focused.

“Less red. More neutral beige.”

She’s so sure. So good at this.

Pins go into my curls to mark volume. A dental shade guide presses against my teeth.

“Shade 7.”

“Brilliant,” she notes.

The measurements go on - neck, shoulders, fingers. At some point I catch her watching me instead of writing, her expression soft.

“You okay?” she asks quietly.

“I’m about to be immortalised in wax,” I say. “That’s mad.”

She steps closer. “You deserve it.”

Something about hearing that here - where people are turned into something permanent - makes my chest tighten.

When we’re done, I grab a cream sheet of paper from the desk.

Never smiled so much!!! Literally. Thank you! Lando

I slide it toward her.

She looks at it, then at me, eyes bright. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah,” I grin. “But now there’ll be two of me.”

The joke hangs in the air for half a second - but something shifts in my chest before I can stop it. Standing there, surrounded by measurements of me, knowing me down to the smallest detail.

And suddenly..I don’t want something that lasts forever in wax.

I want something real that does.

“Hey,” I say, quieter now. She tilts her head slightly. “Yeah?”

My heart is beating way too fast for a room that’s supposed to be calm and controlled. I step closer, reaching for her hand without really thinking about it.

“I know this is probably the weirdest place I could ever do this,” I start, a nervous laugh escaping me, “and I definitely didn’t plan it - like, at all - but..”

She’s staring at me now. Her expression shifting from amused to something softer, something more uncertain.

I reach into my pocket, fingers brushing against something I’ve been carrying around for weeks without having the guts to use it. The small box feels heavier than it should as I pull it out, my breath catching for just a second.

Her eyes widen immediately. “Lando..”

“Yeah,” I exhale, a little breathless now “That’s..that’s exactly what this is.”

“I was gonna do something proper,” I admit. “Like..candles, or a nice dinner, or literally anything that isn’t me standing here after getting my head measured.”

She lets out a shaky laugh, but her eyes are already glassy.

“But then I looked at you just now,” I continue, softer, “and I thought - why wait? I already know.”

I take a small step closer again, opening the box. The ring catches the light in a way that feels almost surreal.

“You’re the only thing in my life that I’m completely sure about,” I say, my voice steady now despite everything racing inside me. “More than racing, more than anything. And if I’m gonna have something that lasts forever I want it to be us.”

So I finally ask her.

“Will you marry me?”