Carlos and you were in love for a long time, really long time. You were childhood friends, over time you grew apart a little, but when you got back in touch it was like fate, you got closer and fell in love again. He was your first love and you were his first love. In three years together Carlos got down on one knee and asked you to marry him. You accepted, there was no other answer option, not when the love of your life is on one knee in front of you.

You know that getting married and having children was one of Carlos' dreams since he was little, after all he loved children, you want to make his dreams come true. You and him had been trying for two years, but it just wasn't happening.

Until that night in Italy, a bottle of wine and love without worry, you weren't doing it to make a baby, you were doing it because you loved each other.

Then a month later, it happened, you knew it. When you woke up the morning of the Spanish GP at your house, when you ran to the bathroom and threw up, you knew. The pregnancy test just confirmed this. You were radiantly happy, your husband had taken pole position in his home race. But you knew you had to wait until the race was over to tell Carlos, he couldn't be worried about you when he was in the car.

Carlos had the race of his career, he won at home, for the first time he won at home. He jumped out of the car and ran to the grandstand, he ignored the engineers, the reporters, the FIA staff, he ran to you, lifting you in his arms while kissing you.

“I WON!” he spoke in a loud tone, super happy, tears of happiness in his eyes. You knew now was the right time to share the new news.