I can hear my own heartbeat louder than the engine.

Final lap. Final race of the season. Abu Dhabi glowing under the floodlights like it’s holding its breath with me. If I finish right where I am - P3 - I take it. By two points. Two. After a whole year of fighting, sweating, bleeding for this.

I swallow hard inside the helmet. My hands shake once on the wheel before I force them steady again.

“Last lap, Lando,” Will says calmly, like this isn’t the most important seconds of my life. “You’re doing brilliantly. Just bring it home.”

I exhale, long and shaky. The last Turn approaches, purple lights streaking across my visor. The tyres are done, my arms feel like lead, but I’m so close I can taste it. Just corners now. Just corners.

The car slides slightly through the final turn but catches. I straighten it. The line is right there.

And then - I cross it.

“YES, LANDO! YOU ARE THE 2025 WORLD CHAMPION! WORLD CHAMPION!”

Will’s voice cracks and something in me breaks open. Heat rushes to my face and suddenly I’m gasping for air, not from the race but from everything hitting me at once. I try to say something back, something cool, something coherent - but my voice just collapses.

“A - are you serious?” I choke out, laughing and crying at the same time. “Oh my God..we did it, Will. We actually did it.”

There’s a small crackle in my ear and then a familiar voice comes through - lighter, joking, but warm enough to hit me straight in the chest.

“Zak Brown here,” he says. “Am I speaking to the World Champion?”

I let out a wet, breathless laugh - half-sob, half-disbelief - as fresh tears spill over. I can’t even hide it. Not now. Not after everything. “Y-yeah,” I manage, voice breaking completely. “Yeah, you are.”

Tears blur the lights of Abu Dhabi. I try so hard to pull myself together on the in-lap, but every corner feels like another memory crashing into me from this season - the wins, the mistakes, the late nights in the sim, the moments I almost gave up.

By the time I climb out of the car, I’m shaking. The team engulfs me, orange everywhere, arms around me, hands pulling me into hugs. I can barely breathe but God, it feels incredible.

The podium is a blur of lights, champagne, and noise. I’m drenched, freezing, buzzing all at once. My hands won’t stop trembling, even as I lift the trophy - my trophy - above my head. The crowd roars and the world spins in the best possible way.

When the interviewer asks how it feels, my voice still isn’t steady.

“It’s..unbelievable,” I say, blinking hard. “We’ve worked so long for this. I can’t thank the guys and girls at McLaren enough - they gave me an incredible car this year. And my parents..thank you for everything, for every sacrifice.”

I swallow, my throat tight again.

“And..my girlfriend. She’s been there through all of it. All the pressure, all the doubts. I wouldn’t be standing here without her.”

I look down from the podium, searching the crowd - and there she is.

Her eyes shine up at me, brighter than the lights, hands pressed to her mouth like she’s holding in a thousand emotions at once. The moment our eyes meet, something inside me softens and steadies. For the first time all day, I feel my breathing settle.

I smile - big, helpless, overwhelming.

World Champion