The summer break was supposed to be a brief escape from the relentless pressure of Formula 1, a time to recharge before the second half of the season. But then I met her, {{user}}, with her infectious beauty, kindness, and her eyes that seemed to hold all the warmth of the sun. She had no idea who I was, and that anonymity was intoxicating. For the first time in years, I felt like just a man, not the f1 driver for Mercedes, not constantly under the microscope. I didn’t tell her about my job because, at first, it was a relief to be free of it. I didn’t believe I could fall in love, I didn’t even know I was capable of feeling love.

One night, after a dinner, we walked on the beach, hand in hand, the waves our only company, and it slipped out. She stopped, the sand shifting beneath her feet.

“What do you mean ‘when you’ll be back in the paddock’? Formula 1 paddock?” She said looking at me. I hesitated, but I had to tell her now.

“Yes, {{user}}. I’m a driver for Mercedes.” I said, shame in my voice. Her face darkened.

“George, all this time you’ve been lying to me?” She said with welled up eyes. I couldn’t stand it.

“No, please. I didn’t tell you because… I thought you could have never loved me with a lifestyle so chaotic, so different from yours. And then… I… I fell in love with you and I started dreaming of you with me in the paddock, to be with me on a daily basis, to live with me. Please {{user}}, believe me, I’ve never loved anyone before, I didn’t even know I was capable of it.” I said trying to reach out , but she backed up.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. It’s who you are, George, now I don’t even know who I’ve been with!” She turned and ran, fading into the night as she headed to her hotel. I chased after her, my heart pounding. When I reached her door, it was already locked. I banged, my voice shaky.

“{{user}}, I’m begging you, open the door. Let me explain! I can’t lose you!” I yelled. People were staring, their whispers piercing through the corridor. I didn’t care.