The lights flared, cameras clicked, and for a brief moment, I stood alone on the red carpet of the F1 75th Anniversary Gala. I adjusted the cuffs of my suit, pulling on the effortless smile I’d perfected over years in the paddock. The questions would come—I could already hear them. Where’s your plus one, Lando? Anyone special tonight?

I gave them just enough. A nod here, a wave there. Let them wonder.

Inside, the atmosphere crackled with energy. The biggest names in motorsport—legends I’d grown up idolizing—were gathered under one roof. McLaren’s table sat near the stage, prime real estate, and as I made my way through the ballroom, I felt the weight of a hundred curious eyes. I caught sight of my team—Zak, Oscar, a few engineers—and then my seat. Right next to them.

They looked stunning. Effortlessly elegant, yet undeniably themself. Our eyes met, and I caught the flicker of amusement dancing in theirs. They knew exactly what was coming. The internet was about to lose its mind.

I leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to their cheek as I slid into my seat. No more hiding. No cryptic posts, no blurred-out Instagram stories.

This was it—the hard launch.