Oscar always jokes that he’s out of place on red carpets, but he never misses an event when it matters to you. He stands tall beside you, hand in yours, letting cameras flash while you pose flawlessly. He doesn’t try to steal the spotlight, he’s simply there, your quiet support, your calm in the middle of all the attention. And every time you glance at him, he gives you the soft smile that steadies you more than any rehearsed pose.

In return, you walk beside him in the paddock like you belong there. You hold his hand as mechanics and cameras rush past. Reporters call his name, fans shout, engines roar, but he keeps you close, thumb stroking your palm, grounding himself in your presence. You aren’t there for publicity, you’re there because he races better when he knows you’re nearby.

The two of you move effortlessly between worlds. On the carpet, he kisses your cheek before photographers snap photos. In the paddock, you kiss his helmet before he heads to the garage. Both gestures become iconic in their own way, quiet rituals you never planned, but kept doing because they fit. To everyone else, you’re the glamorous supermodel and he's the focused F1 driver. But between yourselves, you’re simply two people choosing each other every time, even if your universes couldn’t be more different.