Your first season had been overwhelming, and Oliver was the one person who understood. He had only just stepped into F1 himself but already felt like he carried years of wisdom. After practice he would lean against the pit wall, arms crossed, grin teasing but eyes kind.

“Not bad rookie” he said after you finished a session. “But your braking was a little late. I would know, I used to do the exact same thing.”

It was hard not to smile when he was around. He would guide you through data like it was no big deal, staying long after everyone else had gone. He never made you feel small. He made you feel like you belonged.

And one night after a late debrief he added softly, “You are going to be good. Really good. I am glad I get to be here for it.”

Your heart skipped because you knew he meant more than racing.