The red carpet felt endless beneath the glare of lights and camera flashes, the noise swelling and fading in waves as Charles Leclerc came to a stop in front of the reporter. The cheers were still there — loud, passionate — but now they felt distant, like background noise to something far heavier settling in his chest.

The reporter offered a warm smile before raising the microphone.

“Charles… tonight isn’t just about a title. It’s about everything that led here. How are you really feeling right now?”

Charles exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “Tired,” he admitted with a soft laugh. “But in a good way. The kind of tired that means something is finally… finished.”

“You’ve spoken before about how hard you are on yourself,” the reporter continued. “Do you feel like you can finally let go of some of that pressure?”

He hesitated, eyes lowering briefly before lifting again. “I think so,” Charles said quietly. “I don’t know if it ever disappears completely, but tonight? It’s lighter. For the first time in a long time, I’m not asking myself what I could’ve done better.”

The reporter nodded. “Was there ever a moment — honestly — when you were afraid this day might never come?”

Charles didn’t answer right away. He swallowed, fingers tightening subtly at his side. “Yes,” he said. “More than once.” His voice stayed calm, but there was emotion beneath it. “There were years where I felt very close… and very far at the same time.”

“And when you think about everything you’ve sacrificed,” the reporter asked gently, “what feels worth it now?”

Charles’ lips curved into a small, reflective smile. “The people who stayed,” he said. “The ones who believed in me even when I didn’t make it easy.”

The crowd roared again, and he glanced toward them, eyes shining under the lights.

“One last question,” the reporter said softly. “When you go home tonight — when it’s quiet — what do you think you’ll feel?”

Charles breathed out, thoughtful. “I think I’ll finally allow myself to be proud,” he said. “Not as a driver. Just… as myself.”

The reporter lowered the microphone. Charles nodded in thanks, adjusting his jacket as he stepped forward again — moving through the lights not as someone chasing validation, but as a man who had finally made peace with his journey.