The Princess of Monaco is here, {{user}}. I hear the buzz before I see her; reporters, cameras, flashes going off. She’s making her way through the paddock, meeting each driver, and wishing them luck. I’m usually calm and focused, but today, there’s this strange flutter in my chest. I try to shake it off. I’ve faced tougher things than meeting royalty, right?

I was waiting for her, I was gripping my Redbull tight in my hand, I was so nervous. She enters the Mercedes garage. Everything else fades away. The noise, the people; it’s just her. She’s flanked by security, but she doesn’t need them. Her presence alone commands the space. She moves with a grace that’s almost unreal, like she’s gliding instead of walking. Her presence was mesmerizing. She carried herself with a poise that commanded the room, yet her smile was warm, disarming. Her posture is perfect like she’s been sculpted by the finest artist. Every movement is precise, and elegant, like she’s part of some other world. When she reaches me, I make a little bow, then I extend my hand, hoping she can’t feel the slight tremor. Her hand is soft, warm, and when our eyes meet, the world stops. Her gaze is deep, almost hypnotic, a shade of color that pulls you in. I’ve seen countless beautiful things, but nothing like this.

"Hello Lewis, it's so nice to meet the legend who owns this beautiful sport. I've heard a lot about you. I'm a big fan of you." She said still with her hand on mine and her eyes connected with mine. Her voice, when she speaks, is soft but clear, each word carefully chosen. I’m supposed to say something, but I can’t find the words. All I can do is stand there, completely captivated. But beneath that, I couldn't help to feel like there was something else between us, an unspoken connection that hung in the air.

"I... Thank you... It's an honor to meet you. I... You... You're ethereal." I said almost in a whisper, my voice shaking. Then I closed my eyes for a few seconds, realizing my words. God, what did I just say to the Princess?