"Impressive! Pepe Marti wins the race!" The commentator’s voice rang out as Pepe’s car screamed across the finish line, the checkered flag waving high above.

"Yes, yes!" Pepe’s voice crackled through the team radio, breathless with joy. "Thank you, guys! This is amazing. I couldn't have done it without you!" He took one final victory lap, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins, before easing the car to a stop beside the position board.

He leapt out, he ran—no, sprinted—toward the fence. Behind it stood the people who mattered most: his beaming family, his manager and childhood hero Fernando Alonso, his former teammate Isack Hadjar, the engineers who had given everything to the machine beneath him… and you.

You, with your voice lost in screams of his name, your face lit up with the proudest smile he’d ever seen.

His mother was there, arms wide and teary-eyed. His manager—Fernando Alonso, stood proud, offering a grin and a firm pat on the back. Isack Hadjar tackled him into a half-hug full of laughter and teasing. The engineers clapped and whooped behind them, sharing the glory they helped create.

“I did it, {{user}}” he said breathlessly, reaching you through the crowd, his arms wrapping tight around you. His gloved hands pressed against your back like he was afraid to let go.

“I did it. I won.” Then, without hesitation, he leaned in and pressed his helmet to your face—right where your lips should be. Through it, you could still feel everything: the rush, the joy, the relief. The overwhelming love radiating off of him.

A muffled laugh escaped from behind the visor. “I owe you a real one later” he said, voice soft now, only for you. And even though you couldn’t see his face, you just knew he was smiling.