I see her before she says a word.

She’s standing by the railing at the harbor, fidgeting with the strap of her bag, looking like she’s debating whether to come over or not. I’m used to being recognized - it comes with the job - but something about her hesitation feels different. Not like the usual fan moment. There’s weight behind her eyes. A kind of nervous bravery.

When she finally walks up, she’s quiet for a second. “Hi.” She says, voice soft. “Sorry. I don’t want to bother you.”

“You’re not.” I say, offering a smile. “What’s your name?”

“{{user}}.”

She takes a breath, like she’s steadying herself. “I just wanted to say… thank you.”

I tilt my head, unsure. “For what?”

She glances away, then back at me. “For everything. You don’t know me, but you’ve been in my life in ways that actually saved me. There was a time when everything felt too heavy. Like I couldn’t breathe properly, couldn’t care about anything. And then..I started watching races. Interviews. You.”

I blink. “Me?”

“You made me laugh when nothing else could.” She says. “Somehow, your energy pulled me out. You reminded me what passion looks like. And that maybe, things could get better.”

I don’t know what to say. I’ve heard fans say thank you before, but this - this is something else entirely. It’s humbling. And overwhelming.

“{{user}}..” I say slowly “I don’t even know how to respond to that.”

She smiles, eyes glassy. “You don’t have to. I just needed you to know.”

For a moment, we just stand there. No cameras. No noise. Just a quiet connection in the middle of a busy world.

“I’m glad you’re still here.” I say finally.

And I mean it when I say. “You’re braver than you think.”