Night has fallen over the circuit, but the floodlights blaze brighter than ever. Engines roar in the distance, the crowd erupts in waves — but Oscar sees only one thing: you, standing just behind the pit wall, in a dress that catches the light like it was made to dance with it.

Baby, this is what you came for… He thinks it in silence, helmet still resting on his head. Everyone’s here for the show, but tonight, you’re the real spectacle.

He stares a few seconds too long. You smile — just slightly — and suddenly he forgets there’s a race about to start. Tension rises in his chest as fast as it does in his helmet.

Lightning strikes every time she moves… You walk forward, slowly, right before he climbs into the car. He lowers his visor, but his gaze lingers on you until the very last second. You’ve struck him — like lightning in the night.

And just before he cuts the radio, he murmurs to his engineer:

“Remind me what I’m racing for, again?” There’s a smile in his voice. He knows. You. You’re what he came for.