It was the kind of night that makes you realize how much you’ve sacrificed to get where you are. As I stood in the McLaren garage, staring out at the night sky over Abu Dhabi, the adrenaline from the race still pulsing through my veins, I felt a mixture of triumph and disbelief. The sounds of the celebrations around me felt distant, like I was hearing them from underwater.

Among the faces in the crowd, I spotted a familiar one—{{user}}. She was the PR manager for McLaren, the one who’d been there for every media appearance, every press release, and every victory photo. But this wasn’t just any celebration. {{user}}’s face looked different tonight, a mix of pride and something else—something bittersweet.

"You did it, Lando," she said, walking over to me, her voice carrying over the noise of the crowd. She was smiling, but there was a heaviness in her eyes. "You’ve made history."

"Yeah," I replied, the reality of what we had just accomplished finally settling in. "We did it. McLaren’s back on top."

Her smile faltered just for a moment, before she composed herself. "Yeah, it feels surreal. But for me, it’s a goodbye."

I looked at her, confused. "What do you mean?"

She took a deep breath. "This is my last season with McLaren. After all these years, I’m moving on."

The news hit me harder than I expected. She had been there from the very beginning of my career with McLaren, guiding me through the media circus, helping me manage my image, and being a steady hand when things got chaotic. It felt strange, knowing this victory would be her last moment with the team.

"That’s... tough," I said, trying to find the right words. "You’ve been a huge part of this."

She shrugged, her gaze turning toward the celebrations. "It’s time for a change, Lando. I’ve loved every second of it, but I think it’s time to let someone else take over."

"Well, whatever happens, you’ll always be a part of McLaren," I said, offering her a smile.

I already knew that I would miss her.