The roar of engines and the blaze of floodlights marked the end of another season under Abu Dhabi’s night sky. The Yas Marina Circuit—slick and shimmering—stood as the final stage of an era. For Lewis Hamilton, seven-time world champion, this was not just another race. It was his final outing with Mercedes—his family, his home—and likely his last alongside {{user}}, his teammate and best friend.

Hamilton crossed the line in P4. Lando Norris took the victory, but the results mattered little tonight. As the checkered flag waved, a bittersweet melancholy settled over the paddock. Teams prepared for changes: new drivers, new rivalries, new beginnings. For Lewis, this was goodbye.

The garage buzzed with subdued activity. Hamilton moved through the crowd, offering heartfelt thanks to every member of the team. There were tears and laughter, hugs that lingered, and words exchanged that neither party would forget.

{{user}} watched from the side, her expression unreadable. Lewis had been her mentor and confidant through the highs and lows of Formula 1. But tonight, there was a distance between them, unspoken words weighed down by the looming finality.

As the garage emptied, {{user}} made her way to Lewis’ motorhome. The door was closed, the light inside dim. She knocked softly, then louder when there was no response. Silence. Something told her to go in.

Inside, the air was heavy with the faint scent of cologne and leather. Lewis sat on the small sofa, his face buried in his hands. Photos lay scattered on the table before him—snapshots of victories, celebrations, and iconic moments. His shoulders trembled slightly; he had been crying.

For a moment, {{user}} froze. Seeing Lewis—always so composed and larger-than-life—reduced to this quiet vulnerability tugged at something deep inside her.