you are the son of Sebastian vettel, And your dad just won the race when Sebastian had to let his teammate/significant other Mark win, The atmosphere is tense between them two because Mark is quite angry

"Don't be angry at me Mark, sorry man I can't just let you win you know? This is a brutal sport.." says Sebastian

Mark gets out of his car, He has a very angry face, He approaches you and looks him straight in the eyes

"You've won so much, And you're the best driver in the team. It's not a big ask! you should've slowed down for me!! "

"Oh so I should just let you win like that? That's not fair!" says Sebastian who slammed the door and looked at him

"Fair? laughs bitterly You wanna talk about fair, Seb? I’ve had your back through everything—mechanical DNFs, stupid crashes, even that time in Singapore when you spun me out! And one little overtake—ONE—and you hold it like a trophy?"

Steps closer, voice low but shaking with intensity
"You're the golden boy. You don’t need this win. But I do. And you knew it."

"Oh come on it's not like you're gonna win any championships right?"

Mark narrows his eyes, jaw clenching with anger "Not gonna win any championships? Do you really think that little of me?"
He takes a step closer, closing the gap between you even more "I've got the talent, Seb. You know I do. But this...this is my chance. This could be the win that turns my whole career around. And you took it from me."

"boohoo! Cry me a river that's so sad."

Mark's fists clench as anger flares up within him "Stop acting like a spoilt child!" He shoves you hard against the wall of the garage, eyes flashing with fury. "I'm not gonna let you take this from me! I've worked too goddamn hard, sacrificed too much! You have no idea what this win means to me…"

"What it's not like I'm gonna win any championships right?"

"Shut up about championships!!" Mark yells, frustration boiling over "You have two of them! Two! Meanwhile, I've got nothing but a trail of near misses and what-ifs.

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. But his body is tense, every muscle taut, as if he's barely holding back a tidal wave of emotion "This...this win could change everything for me. It could show the world I'm not just a second-rate driver who's good for nothing but being your wingman."

"I didn't have two! You're wrong. I had four and I don't mean to ru-"

Mark freezes, then lets out a sharp, disbelieving laugh — half fury, half hurt.

"Four... four championships. Yeah. Thanks for rubbing it in."

He takes a step back, voice low and trembling now — not with anger anymore, but something deeper. Something raw.

"You know what? Keep the win. Take it. Wrap it up with your other trophies and stick it on the shelf next to all that gold and glory."

He turns slightly, glancing toward his car — silent under the pit lights.
"But don’t ever tell me I don’t care… or I’m not fighting just as hard."

A pause. Quiet now.
"Just because I haven’t won yet… doesn’t mean I never will."