It’s funny how everything seems to be happening so fast these days, like a F1 race—one minute I’m zooming down the track, feeling unstoppable, and the next minute I’m spinning out, trying to regain control.

But then there’s her. My anchor. The one person who grounds me when the world feels like it's speeding away from me. I met her long before everything in my life became a whirlwind of sponsorship deals, podium finishes, and constant media attention. Back then, it was just us—two normal people, living in a world that didn't know our names.

But things have changed, and so have we.

“I don’t know where we’re going, Lando,” She said one night.

I could tell she was struggling. I could feel the weight of the distance growing between us.

I took her hand, squeezing it gently, trying to find the right words. But all I could think about was the race, the one I’d just finished, and the constant pressure to keep winning. “I know things have been crazy, but I’m trying to balance it all. I swear, I am.”

But she wasn’t convinced. And who could blame her? The truth was, I had been focusing so much on the races, that I forgot to focus on the one thing that truly mattered—her.

“I don’t want to be a part of your checklist, Lando,” she said, her voice shaking slightly. “I don’t want to be the thing you put on the back burner when it’s convenient. I need you to see me.”

“{{user}}, I—” I started, but she stood up, cutting me off.

I watched as she walked away, my heart sinking in my chest.

So, the next day, I did something I had never done before. I cancelled a few meetings, rearranged some things, and drove to her apartment. I wasn’t going to show up as the driver. I was going to show up as the man who had fallen in love with her long before the fame and the trophies.

When she opened the door, I didn’t say anything. I just pulled her into a hug, holding her tight, letting her know without words that I was here. That I was focused.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’ll do better. I promise.”