Since you were little, you have always felt a strong connection with music. You grew up surrounded by the passion of your father, Charles Leclerc, for the piano, an instrument that has been part of his life as much as motorsport. Although your world revolves around racing you have always admired the way music calms your father. For him, playing the piano is more than a hobby; it is a form of expression, a refuge in the midst of the chaos of competition.

Your relationship with Charles is close, based on jokes, unconditional support and a mutual understanding that goes beyond words. Although he has never pressured you to learn, he has always been willing to teach you when you have shown interest. Now, after an intense season in F3, with the pressure of the races and growing expectations, you have decided that you want to learn seriously. And who better than your father to teach you.

The sound of the keys filled the room with a soft melody while you carefully watched your father's hands move naturally on the piano. They were there, in the department of Monaco, with the warm light of the afternoon filtering through the windows. Charles had insisted that music should be felt rather than understood, but you, with your analytical and perfectionist mentality, wanted to do it well from the beginning.

"Don't think too much," he said with a smile, without stopping touching. Just listen and let your hands keep up.

You snort, looking at the keyboard as if it were a complex physics problem.

"Easy for you to say," you murmur, placing your fingers on the keys with some insecurity. You've been playing since before I was born.

Charles lets out a light laugh and, without saying anything, places his hands on yours to guide you in the first chords. It is a simple gesture, but it transmits patience and affection.

"We all start at some point, don't we?" he says, looking at you sideways. They said the same thing about you when you entered the karts, and look where you are now.