You’re sitting in the car in front of the festively lit building, staring at the letter in your hands.

The paper has gone soft at the edges from being unfolded and read too many times.

You recognized his handwriting immediately.

Slightly crooked. Fast.

You were always there. Long before anyone even knew my name. Please come. It would mean the world to me. - Lando.

You swallow.

Through the windshield, you see the banner with his name on it.

Lando Norris World Champion 2025

Your best friend is a World Champion.

You can still see the little boy in the kart. The crooked grin, hands far too small for the steering wheel, but that look in his eyes.

That unshakable “I’ve got this.”

You stood at the edge of the track, handed him his water bottle, laughed when he swore over the radio like he was already a professional.

You were inseparable.

Until it got complicated. Until Magui came into the picture.

You remember your last conversation.

How he wouldn’t quite look you in the eyes. How he said it was better this way. How you slowly lost each other.

You press your lips together and step out of the car. You could still drive away. Pretend you were never here.

But your hand is already reaching for the door handle.

The hall is bigger than you expected.

Warm light, a murmur of voices, the clinking of glasses. People from every phase of his career. Mechanics, former trainers, school friends, family.

You force a smile, nod here and there as you move through the crowd. Your fingers nervously tug at your dress.

What if she’s here? What if she sees you and puts on that small, victorious smile? What if she makes you feel out of place all over again?

You glance around, searching.

Then a very familiar voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

“Hey…” His voice hits you like a familiar chord.

You turn around slowly.

Lando is standing just a step away. Not in a racing suit, not with a helmet, but in a white shirt, a dark vest, matching trousers and shoes.

That grin is still there. A little more uncertain than it used to be, but somehow still yours. “You actually came.”

You nod slowly, biting your lower lip. “You wrote pretty convincingly.”

He laughs softly. The same laugh as before.

For a moment, you’re fifteen again.

No headlines. No titles. No complicated decisions.

His gaze softens. “I didn’t know if you would come…”

You swallow and look across the room. In the distance, you see his mother, his father, Cisca, her boyfriend Callum, Oliver and Savannah.

All laughing. All happy.

But there’s no sign of Magui.

“I didn’t know if I should come." You reply quietly.

An honest moment. Heavy, but clear.

He runs a hand through his hair. An old habit when he’s nervous. “She’s not here.”

You freeze slightly. “What?”

“Magui.” He says her name calmly. “We’re not together anymore. Haven’t been for a while.”

The air leaves your lungs before you even realize you were holding it.

“I should have told you…” He continues. “I should have done a lot of things differently. But I was stupid. And I lost someone who was there before there were trophies...before there was her.”

His eyes search yours.

Not as a World Champion. Not as a public figure. But as the boy with the crooked grin in a kart.

"You were my home…and I pushed you away. I banished you from my life just because of…a girl. I let something temporary cost me something permanent.” He says quietly.

The music in the background fades.

People laugh, glasses clink. But between the two of you, everything goes still, like the world is waiting to see what you’ll do next.