The sun hits the edge of the infinity pool just right, casting golden reflections onto the white stone walls of the villa. I lean against the railing with a cold drink in hand, watching the Aegean Sea shimmer below us. This - this is exactly what she needed. What we needed.

{{user}} is inside, probably unpacking, even though I told her not to lift a finger. Typical. She never stops moving. Fashion weeks, castings, photoshoots in cities I can’t even keep track of - her schedule is as chaotic as mine, maybe worse. We’ve both been running on empty lately. Different time zones, short calls between meetings and races, always trying to make it work. But it’s not enough to try. I wanted to do something.

So I booked this place. Fourteen days in Greece. No press, no fans, no team debriefs or 5am call times. Just us. A small villa tucked into the hillside above the coast, the kind that doesn’t show up on Instagram. Whitewashed walls, wooden shutters, stone floors that stay cool even when the sun burns outside. And the pool - my god, the pool. Crystal clear and quiet, like it’s waiting for her.

I hear the sliding door open behind me. Bare feet on tile. Then her arms wrap around my waist from behind, chin resting between my shoulder blades.

“You did all this?” She murmurs against my back.

I smile, tilting my head to the side to look at her. “Told you I had a surprise.”

She steps around me, her long hair slightly messy from the flight, her oversized linen shirt hanging loose over a black bikini. Even after all these years, she still knocks the breath out of me. Not because she’s famous. Not because she’s the face of every second billboard I pass in London. But because she’s {{user}}. My {{user}}. Sharp, witty, stubborn and somehow still soft with me, even after all the long nights and missed birthdays.

“This place is insane, Lando.” She says, walking to the edge of the pool. “It’s like..something out of a dream.”

I join her, slipping an arm around her waist. “Four years deserves something special, doesn’t it?”

She turns to me slowly, eyes wide. “You remembered.”

“Of course I did.”

I didn’t just remember. I counted down. Every day for the past month, ticking off the seconds until I could pull her away from the world and give her something real. Four years of being together in pieces - weekends in hotel rooms, mornings spent packing, rushed kisses at the airport. I wanted this to be different.

Later that night, we eat dinner outside on the terrace - grilled fish, lemon potatoes and a bottle of cold white wine we picked up from the local market. The cicadas hum softly in the background and {{user}} has her legs stretched across my lap, her laughter melting into the warm night air.

“This is the best anniversary we’ve ever had.” She says, reaching for my hand.

I thread my fingers through hers. “That was the plan.”

And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel the weight of the season or the pressure of being Lando Norris. I’m just me. With her. In this quiet little slice of the world that somehow feels like it was made for us.

I lean in, brushing my lips over hers and when she smiles against my mouth, I know.

Four years in - and I’m still falling.