It was supposed to be a regular race weekend. I was supposed to be in the garage, standing by, ready to jump into the Alpine car if anything went wrong with one of the drivers. That was my life as a reserve driver—constantly waiting, always on edge, never really sure when I’d get the call.

But today wasn’t just any race weekend. Today was our first anniversary. And for the first time in ages, I had a plan that didn’t involve any tires or pit stops.

She had no idea I was coming. In fact, I wasn’t supposed to be there. I had told her I’d be at the track, glued to the screens, watching from afar, like I always did. She was always so understanding, so patient with my schedule, but I knew this anniversary meant more to her than anything. I couldn’t let it slip by without doing something special.

I had secretly arranged everything—told my team to keep the details quiet, made sure no one leaked any news about me not being at the race. I spent the past few days planning, finding the perfect gift, and making sure the timing would be just right.

When I finally arrived at her doorstep, my heart was pounding in my chest. I wasn’t sure what to expect. Would she be surprised? Would she be mad that I’d lied about where I was?

I stood there, holding a bouquet of her favorite flowers, taking a deep breath. I rang the doorbell.

A moment later, the door opened.

Her eyes widened, and I saw the surprise, the joy, and the relief all in one.

“Paul?” she whispered, almost as if she couldn’t believe I was standing there. “What… how are you here?”

I smiled. “I couldn’t miss it. Not today.”

She took the bouquet from me, her lips curling into a grin. “You’re here. But you were supposed to be at the track… You told me you couldn’t make it!”

“I know,” I said, stepping inside, “but I couldn’t let this anniversary go by without being here with you. No race or anything else mattered more.”