The black carpet is buzzing.

Cameras flash from every direction, fans press against the barricades, voices call out my name - sharp, excited, loud. But for a moment, I just stand there, letting it all wash over me. The towering screens of Times Square pulse above us and the city feels alive in a way only New York can manage.

I adjust the cuff of my double-breasted navy suit. Sharp cut, subtle sheen, tailored to perfection. White shirt underneath, collar slightly open - clean, but not stiff. The watch on my wrist catches the light as I fold my hands, grounding myself before I take the first step onto the black carpet. It’s not just another appearance. It’s the F1 film premiere. And somehow, this night feels bigger.

As I move, I hear it - “Lando! Over here!” - a chorus of voices trying to pull my attention. I give a few quick waves, then stop to sign a couple of caps and posters. The fans are amazing, full of energy and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t give me a bit of a boost. But I keep moving, step by step, through the chaos and into the light.

The F1 presenters are waiting for me ahead, mic already in hand. I shake hands, smile for the camera and begin the interview. The usual questions: how it feels to be here, what the sport means to me, how surreal it is seeing our world on the big screen. I answer with ease, but my mind starts to drift.

My eyes scan the crowd behind the velvet barriers. Drivers, crew members, actors, executives..and fans. Hundreds of them. But then - there. One face pulls me out of autopilot.

She’s not yelling or reaching forward with a phone. She’s not trying to get my attention at all. She’s just..there. Standing quietly, hands folded in front of her, a soft smile on her lips. Like she’s soaking everything in, letting the night unfold around her without needing to dominate it. Her eyes flicker toward me just as I look at her.

Something tightens in my chest.

I finish the last question, shake hands with the interviewer and step off to the side. The feeling doesn’t leave me. Not as I wave again, not as I sign more autographs. She’s still there. And now I’m walking toward her.

I keep it casual, stopping to sign a few things near where she stands. Trying not to make it obvious. But every step draws me closer.

And then I’m in front of her.

“Hi.” I say, voice quieter than I expected.

She blinks, then glances behind her, like I must be talking to someone else.

I smile. “No, I meant you.”

She looks at me again. There’s a hint of surprise, maybe a question in her eyes. But that smile of hers? Still there. A little brighter now.