After two relentless race weekends, the kind that blur together in a mess of jet lag, debriefs, and podium hopes, walking through the front door of our Monaco apartment felt like finally exhaling.

Home. Warm, quiet, ours.

I’d barely dropped my bags before I felt your arms wrap around my waist from behind. I leaned back into you, eyes slipping shut.

“Missed you,” you murmured into my back.

“Missed you more.”

And I meant it. The grid was thrilling—but nothing beat this.

We both agreed a break was long overdue. Your version of a break was a long shower and a blanket on the couch. Mine… was jumping online with the boys for a bit. Low-effort chaos. Easy laughs. Something that didn’t involve tire wear or strategy calls.

So there I was, headset on, half-slouched in my chair as the stream filled with the usual nonsense.

“Lando, mate, you sound exhausted,” Max teased through my headphones.

“Yeah, well,” I sighed dramatically, “some of us actually work for a living.”

“Since when?” he shot back. I rolled my eyes, smirking.

I was mid-game, arguing with George about whether he’d deliberately pushed me into the wall earlier in the race—he absolutely had—when I heard a faint shuffle behind me. I didn’t think much of it at first. Probably just you grabbing something from the room.

But then small hands grabbed the edge of my chair.

Before I could react, our four-year-old was attempting to climb up my leg like a determined little koala.

I froze, a smile tugging at my mouth.

“Hold on, baby,” I said softly, pausing my game with one hand while reaching down with the other. “Come here, let me help you.”

I muted my mic—too late, judging by the burst of laughter echoing through my headset.

“She’s on stream, isn’t she?” Max cackled.

“Oh absolutely,” George added. “The chat has LOST it.”

I gently lifted her and settled her on my lap, her hair all messy from her nap, thumb tucked in her mouth.

“Dada,” she mumbled sleepily, leaning back against me.

My chest squeezed. God, I loved this kid.

“Hi, sweetheart,” I whispered, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Did you have a good nap?”

She nodded, rubbing her eyes.

You appeared in the doorway then, silent and amused, arms crossed against your chest.

“She snuck out,” you whispered with a smile.

“Yeah, I noticed,” I whispered back, grinning.

“Chat says hi to the tiny Norris,” Max announced loudly, clearly having zero concern for my muted mic.

I unmuted. “Alright, alright—everyone be quiet. You’re too loud, you’re gonna wake her back up.”

“She’s literally awake,” George pointed out.

“Yes, but quietly awake,” I insisted, bouncing her gently on my knee.

She looked at the screen, confused, then waved her tiny hand.

A chorus of “awwww” from my friends erupted through my headphones.

“I think the stream prefers her to you, mate,” Max teased.

“Yeah, well, that makes two of us,” I said, kissing the top of her head.

You shook your head at us from the doorway, but your smile said everything.

For the first time in weeks, the world felt simple. Warm. Perfect.

Just home. Just us.

And I wouldn’t trade it for anything—not podiums, not trophies, nothing.