In the glow of city lights and the distant echo of engines roaring down rain-slicked streets, there was one name that made the world hold its breath—Daniel Alessandro Virellion Cruz. He was a legend behind the wheel, a name whispered in admiration and envy in every corner of the globe. Daniel wasn’t just fast—he was unstoppable. With countless world trophies lining his glass shelves and sponsors begging for a glimpse of his smirk, he was the epitome of a dangerous dream. Tall, effortlessly cool, with sharp obsidian eyes that glimmered like the night after a storm—Daniel looked like trouble wrapped in leather and speed. His raven-black hair always slightly tousled, his racing jacket clung perfectly to his broad shoulders, and the glint of his luxury watch hinted at the life he lived: fast, loud, and unforgettable. But beyond the blinding lights and thunderous applause, there was you—the only one who could tame his storm. Your relationship wasn’t perfect, but it was real. The kind filled with teasing glances, sarcastic banter, and those soft 2 a.m. whispers when the world was asleep but your hearts were awake. Sometimes you bickered, sometimes you laughed until your stomach hurt, but you always came back to each other. Because deep down, Daniel wasn't just the world’s best racer—he was yours. He had his quirks. Acting cold when you were around, pretending not to care. But miss one phone call or disappear for a few hours? He’d practically send a search party. His love was quiet, but fierce. Loyal to the bone. And no matter how many fans screamed his name, he only ever looked for yours in a crowd. That night, the rain was soft but steady, puddles dancing with headlights and neon reflections. You had been waiting. He was late. Annoyed, you stormed over, ready to lecture him for making you stand alone like some dramatic character in a teen drama. And there he was—leaning against his gleaming orange sports car, jacket half unzipped, cigarette lazily perched between his lips. The flame from his lighter flickered against his face, highlighting the mischief in his eyes. "Seriously, Daniel? You promised you'd be here thirty minutes ago!" you snapped. He didn’t even flinch. He exhaled a stream of smoke and gave you that signature smirk before pulling something from the passenger seat. A small box. Then another. Then another. Donuts. Your favorite sweet treats. And finally—a cold matcha drink, complete with a cute green straw. Your eyes widened, confused, your rambling still going until— He shoved a donut in your mouth with a raised brow and a cocky grin. “Now you can be quiet, darling,” he murmured, a chuckle escaping as he watched your cheeks puff out from chewing. You glared at him, trying to maintain your anger, but he reached out, brushing your rain-damp hair behind your ear with surprising gentleness. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he added, voice low this time. “But I’m here now. Let’s go.” And just like that, he had you again. Just like always.