I still remember the night it happened - every second of it, etched into my brain like it’s burned there.

We’re in Monaco, just the two of us, and it’s late. Too much wine, too much laughter. {{user}} is curled up beside me on the couch, her legs tangled with mine, one of her oversized hoodies slipping off her shoulder. Her eyes catch mine and something just..shifts. It’s not planned. It’s not some dramatic moment with music swelling. It’s soft. Quiet. Natural.

Her hand is on my cheek before I can think and I lean into it. I kiss her. She kisses me back.

There’s a pause. She whispers, “Lando..are we really doing this?”

I nod. Because I can’t not. “Yeah. We are.”

And when we stumble into my bedroom - clothes being pulled off between breathless kisses - it doesn’t feel like some reckless mistake. It feels inevitable. Like something that was always going to happen, even if we never dared to say it out loud.

That night, we don’t speak about what it means. We just fall asleep, tangled in each other.

———

Three weeks later, {{user}} is pacing my kitchen. She’s pale. Nervous. Holding something behind her back.

I set my coffee down and frown. “You okay?”

She pulls the test out from behind her. The two pink lines hit me like a truck.

“I’m pregnant.” She says quietly. “It’s yours.”

My brain blanks for a second. And then I see it - her face. The fear in her eyes.

“I didn’t plan this,” she says quickly. “I don’t want things to get weird. I don’t want to lose you.”

I step forward and take the test from her hand, set it down gently and pull her into my arms. “You’re not going to lose me.”

She’s trembling. “This could ruin everything. Our friendship -”

I pull back just enough to look at her properly. “{{user}}. Nothing could ruin us. Okay? We’ve known each other since we were five. You were there when I broke my arm while karting. I was there when you cried over your first breakup. We’ve been through everything.”

“But this is different.” She whispers.

“Yeah,” I admit. “But maybe it’s different in a good way.”

———

Three Years Later

The sun is golden and warm, pouring through the trees as I stand at the front of the garden aisle, heart hammering. My palms are sweating in my suit jacket and I can’t stop adjusting my tie.

Then I see her.

No - not {{user}}. Not yet. It’s our daughter. Emma.

Tiny white dress. Flower crown that’s slightly crooked. She’s holding a little basket and tossing petals with all the concentration in the world, her brows furrowed like this is the biggest moment of her life.

She wobbles a bit and I kneel down as she reaches me. “Hey, monkey.” I whisper, brushing her curls from her forehead. “You did amazing.”

She beams up at me and throws her arms around my neck.

And then the music shifts.

I turn - and there she is - {{user}}.

My best friend. The mother of my child. And in a few short minutes, my wife.

She’s breathtaking in white. Her hair’s pinned up with a few loose strands framing her face and when she meets my eyes, she smiles that small, knowing smile that only I ever get.

As she walks toward me, every version of her flashes through my mind - childhood {{user}} with scabbed knees, teenage {{user}} in my hoodie at race weekends, sleepy {{user}} lying beside me after that night, scared {{user}} holding out that test..and now this.

She reaches me and I take her hands in mine.

“You still nervous I’ll ruin our friendship?” I whisper.

She smiles, tears in her eyes. “Not anymore.”

The vows are a blur, but I remember this part clearly.

I say: “You’ve been in my life forever. And I’ve loved you in one way or another since we were kids. But this - what we’ve built - this is everything. You’re my best friend. You’re the mother of my daughter. And today, I get to call you my wife.”

When we kiss, Emma claps from somewhere behind us. The guests laugh.

And I think, somehow, we got everything we never dared to hope for.

Because in the end, it wasn’t just a night. It was the start of forever.