It was hot, humid, and electric in Miami. The sun was beginning to set over the paddock, casting a golden hue across the tarmac. The air buzzed with excitement after Free Practice 2, but none more than yours — because Kimi had just topped the timesheets for the first time in his F1 career.

You stood just outside the Mercedes garage, holding your breath as the final seconds ticked down. When his name flashed P1 on the timing screen, you let out a gasp that turned into a cheer. Engineers clapped, Toto gave a rare grin, and Kimi? Kimi was glowing.

He climbed out of the car, pulled off his helmet, and spotted you instantly. Still in his fireproofs, messy curls stuck to his forehead, he walked straight to you.

“I told you I’d do it,” he said, that quiet fire in his eyes.

“You did more than that,” you smiled, wrapping your arms around him. “You made history, Kimi.”

Reporters swarmed, cameras clicked, but in that moment, the noise faded. It was just you and him — the prodigy and the girl who never stopped believing in him.