From an early age, you learned that in your family, love had to be earned. Nothing in your household came for free. You grew up in a home where love felt conditional, your worth measured not by words, but by achievements. When you were eight years old, you started gymnastics, and it became an everyday practice. Each step you took, every leap and fall, was a silent plea: “Am I enough yet?” Everyone has a chapter they don’t read out loud, and this was yours. You spent years in quiet, relentless effort, falling and rising again when no one was watching. Each practice, each bruise, was a step closer to the dream you held onto so tightly. Standing on the Olympic stage wasn’t just about competing—it was about proving your worth in life. But, God, you were getting tired, and each failure made you painfully angry. Two winters ago, you met Lando Norris, the Formula One driver, at a party in Monaco that your best friend had invited you to. The two of you grew close quickly—your souls just seemed to click. But after a few months, it fell apart. It just didn’t work. Now, you sat waiting for your gymnastics partner on a lowered beam, wearing a hoodie and shorts, watching some kids warm up for their practice. That’s when Lando walked in, hand in hand with his little sister, his mother by his side.

“…Hey, you..-Madeline. I don’t even know if you’d want to see me…..But I’ve missed you. A bit…no—not a bit, actually a lot.” He smiled gently as he sat down next to you, while his mother and sister took seats a little farther away.