I can barely breathe when I cross the finish line, the radio exploding in my ears, Will shouting, the team screaming, my own voice cracking somewhere between laughing and crying. World Champion. It doesn’t feel real until the car stops and I climb out and the noise hits me all at once - crowds, mechanics, Zak pulling me into a hug so strong it almost knocks the helmet off my head.

Andrea squeezes my shoulders, saying something I’ll probably never remember because my blood is running too loud. Cameras flash. Hands clap my back. Everyone wants a piece of the moment.

But my eyes are already searching for her.

And when I find her - my engineer, my best friend - she’s standing a little behind the others, hands over her mouth, eyes shining like she’s the one who just won the championship. It hits me harder than the victory itself.

I don’t think. I just run.

She barely has time to gasp before I grab her by the waist and lift her clean off the ground, spinning us both in a messy circle. She laughs - loud, bright, unfiltered - and her arms wrap around my neck. For a second, maybe two, the whole world disappears. There’s just her heartbeat against mine, her breath warm against my ear, her hands gripping me like she never wants to let go.

God, I could live in this moment.

When I finally set her down, she’s still holding onto my shoulders, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling in a way that makes something inside my chest twist painfully.

“You did it, Lando,” she breathes. “You’re World Champion.”

I swallow hard. Smile like nothing inside me is shaking. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

She rolls her eyes - this soft, affectionate eye-roll she does when she thinks I’m being dramatic. “You were the one driving, you idiot.”

“Yeah, but you..you kept me together.” My voice goes quiet before I can stop it.

She doesn’t notice. Or maybe she does and pretends not to. She always gives me that grace.

More people come over. Cameras, microphones, teammates dragging me into hugs. She steps back, letting them have me, but every time I glance over my shoulder, she’s there. Watching. Smiling. And every time our eyes meet, something warm spreads through me - dangerously warm.

Because this isn’t new. Not today. Not tonight. It’s been building slowly, quietly, terrifyingly. Every late-night debrief where she sits too close. Every chaotic race weekend where her voice steadies me more than any strategy ever could. Every time she slips her hand onto my arm when I’m stressed. Every time she says my name like it means something.

And now, holding this trophy, hearing the world chant my name..all I want is her.

But I can’t tell her that.

Not when she’s the person I trust most. Not when losing her would destroy me far faster than losing any championship ever could. So I swallow it, the way I always do, smile through the ache, and keep pretending I’m only her driver, only her friend.

Hours later, when the chaos has faded a little, she finds me again by the garages, trophy on the table beside me. Her voice is soft. “Hey. You okay?”

I nod, though my heart is doing dangerous things. “Yeah. Just..taking it in.”

She steps closer, bumping her shoulder gently against mine. “I’m proud of you.”

Those four words almost undo me.

I look at her and for a second I almost say it. I wish you knew how much you matter to me. I wish I could risk everything. I wish..you were mine.

But instead I force a grin, light and easy. Safe. “Come celebrate with me?”

She smiles, radiant, and nods. “Always.”

And as she walks beside me toward the team, I know I’ll carry the weight of this secret a little longer. Because loving her in silence is still better than losing her in truth.