I walked through the paddock with my wife, {{user}} hand in hand, who I’ve been married to for almost two years now. The buzz of the crowd, the smell of fuel: it all felt familiar, but today there was a warmth in my chest that had nothing to do with the excitement of race day. My wife had been with me from the start, since their days at the karting track where I first discovered my love for speed. She had cheered me on at every race, every victory and defeat, long before he ever dreamed of being an F1 driver.

As we strolled and we were waving at the paparazzi, our wedding rings glimmering in the sunlight, I caught sight of one of his Williams mechanics, his young daughter perched on his hip. The little girl wriggled with excitement, and as soon as her feet touched the ground, she bolted toward her father. I watched as she leaped into his arms, giggling. I felt a pang deep inside. A flash of something that surprised me; a yearning I hadn’t felt until now.

I glanced at {{user}}, who was smiling at the scene, and I saw in her eyes the same joy and longing. I wanted this: not just the thrill of the race, but the warmth of a family. The idea of a little one, running around the paddock with my energy, {{user}}'s smile. It made my heart swell.

“You ever think about… us having one?” My voice was tentative, almost shy, a rare thing for me, my hand tightening around hers. She looked at me, her eyes warm with understanding.

“All the time.” She admitted, her smile widening. My heart swelled, the realization hitting me like a wave. I know she would have been the best caring and loving mother in the whole planet.

“I think I have baby fever now.” I said, a hint of laughter in his tone, while looking back at that little girl. She chuckled, leaning into me.