The race starts nearly dry, but it never feels calm. Even before the lights go out, chaos strikes - Isack Hadjar crashes on the formation lap, delaying everything. The tension in my chest refuses to settle.

When we finally get going, Max immediately lunges past Oscar, and from there, it’s survival. Jack Doohan crashes on Lap 1 - Safety Car. A breather? Not really. Under caution, Carlos Sainz loses it and slams into the barriers. Another DNF.

The race is brutal. It’s stop-and-go, one incident after another. Fernando Alonso’s crash sends debris flying, forcing yet another interruption. One by one, cars drop out. By the time we reach the closing laps, only 14 are left standing.

And then the sky betrays us.

The first raindrops hit my visor with just a few laps to go. Light at first. Then heavier. The track turns slick, grip vanishing beneath me. My heart pounds. Not now. Not when I’m this close.

Max is relentless. He’s in my mirrors, hunting me down. Every corner, I feel him closing in. The rain makes everything a gamble - I can’t push too hard, but if I back off even slightly, he’ll have me.

Final lap. My tires are screaming, the car fighting me with every twitch of the wheel. Max is right there. DRS range. The gap shrinks. My hands are tight on the wheel, my breath locked in my chest.

Final few corners. One mistake and I lose. The car slides, but I catch it. Max is practically on top of me now. One more turn. Hold it.

The checkered flag. I cross the line.

P1.

By less than a second.

The radio explodes. My body is shaking. I did it.

I barely register the celebrations as I climb out. Rain drips from my suit, my helmet, my hands. The team engulfs me, voices shouting, arms grabbing. But through the chaos, I see her - {{user}}. She’s soaked, but nothing else matters.

She smiles, and I finally breathe.

I won.