The race had just ended.

You were still sitting on the edge of your bed, heart pounding, eyes glued to the screen as the checkered flag waved over the Miami circuit. Your F1 TV stream showed the post-race coverage, but your phone buzzed suddenly—FaceTime: Dad’s friend calling.

Weird timing, you thought, but curiosity took over. You answered.

The screen opened to the roar of the paddock. Crowds moved in the background, and he was grinning ear to ear.

“Hey! Guess who just won? Oh wait, you already know,” he laughed, clearly buzzing with excitement. “But I’ve got someone here who wants to say hi…”

You barely had time to process his words before he turned the camera.

And there he was.

Charles Leclerc.

Still slightly sweaty, race suit half unzipped, hair a little messy from the helmet—but smiling. At you.

“Ciao,” he said, with that unmistakable Monegasque accent, and a friendly nod.

Your brain short-circuited.

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t move. Was this a dream? No way. Charles Leclerc—your favorite driver since 2020, the one you’d watched, supported, and dreamed of meeting—was on a video call. Looking straight at you.