You’re there, just outside the garage, watching the screens with your heart in your throat. The session didn’t go the way Charles wanted. The timing sheets don’t reflect the effort, the talent, or the fire he carries in his chest. You know it. You’ve seen it too many times now—how he gives everything and more, even when the car fights against him.

When he walks in, helmet in hand, eyes down, you don’t wait for him to say anything. You step toward him, reach out, and gently take his hand. Your fingers curl around his, grounding him, reminding him that he’s not alone in this. That no matter the result, your pride in him never wavers.

“I’m proud of you,” you whisper, just for him. “You always give your all. That’s more than enough.”

He doesn’t speak right away, but you feel the way his hand tightens around yours. That’s all you need.