The race weekend had been a whirlwind of emotions, but nothing could have prepared me for what was about to unfold. As I sat in the car, waiting for the lights to go out, the weight of the moment hit me. Starting from P19 was not ideal, but I had never been one to back down from a challenge. I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins as the lights went out and we were off.

I climbed through the field, from P19 all the way into the top 10. Then, it was a battle for the podium. I had to be strategic. I knew that every move I made would determine my place in the race, and the pressure was mounting. By the final laps, I had a shot at third. With sheer determination and a bit of luck, I crossed the finish line in P3, a phenomenal recovery, but it didn’t feel like a victory. Not today.

As I took off my helmet, a part of me felt empty. The crowd cheered, but all I could think about was what we had lost. We had worked so hard as a team, Carlos and I, pushing Ferrari to its limits. But the Constructors' Championship slipped through our fingers, and the third place in the Driver's standings didn’t fill the void. Ferrari deserved more – I deserved more. I wanted that title. I wanted to give this team the championship they had been craving, the one they truly deserved after so many years of hard work.

I found myself walking back to the garage, my mind swirling with frustration. Carlos had given his all too, but it wasn’t enough. The look in his eyes mirrored mine – both of us knowing we had come so close, yet still so far.

When I finally made it back to the paddock, I was met with her smile. {{user}} had been there, supporting me all weekend, and yet I couldn’t shake off the bitter taste of second place. As I approached her, she pulled me into an embrace.

“It’s okay, Charles. You gave it everything you had,” she whispered.

I sighed, my shoulders heavy. “It wasn’t enough,” I said quietly, my voice laced with disappointment. “We were so close to the top, and yet here we are… still in second.”