“Promise you’ll be with me forever, no matter what.” I told {{user}}, my best friend. We were seven, a pinky promise shared under the shade of an old oak tree. She smiled and intertwined her pinky with mine.

“Always Charles.” She replied. We’ve been inseparable ever since. From childhood friends to high school sweethearts, and then to a couple since we were 18. Every race, every turn, she was there by my side. Her cheers from the garage were my driving force, her encouragement my fuel.

Today was the day my dream came to life. I won my home Grand Prix. As the checkered flag waved, and the roar of the crowd engulfed me, all I could think of was her. After the podium celebrations, the cheers, and the champagne showers, I sprinted toward the box.

The mechanics grinned knowingly. I’d been planning this for months. One of them handed me a small velvet box as I entered. My heart pounded as I approached her. Her eyes sparkled with excitement and pride, just like they always did when she watched me race. As she was about to say something, I cut her off. Taking a deep breath, I knelt on one knee before her. The world seemed to blur, the roar of the crowd faded into a distant hum. All that mattered was the look in her eyes. I grabbed her hand, softly caressing it with my thumb.

“We made a promise when we were seven.” I began, my voice trembling slightly. “You’ve been with me all my life. Will you continue this journey with me, but as my wife?” I added with eyes filled with tears and my shaky hand.