I had just gotten back from training, completely wiped but in a good way. The kind of tired that comes after a productive day. I collapsed onto the couch and opened TikTok, ready to scroll aimlessly for a bit before dinner. A couple of swipes in, and there it was—another one of those videos.

I’d seen the trend before. Fans had been tagging me in them for days. The audio started with The Weeknd’s “Sniper, sniper, sniper,” and I already knew what was coming. First, a picture of me—serious, intense, in my race suit. Then, as the audio switched to “Wifey, wifey, wifey,” the image changed.

To her.

I stopped scrolling. The comments were blowing up:* *“ They’d be such a power couple!” “Lando and {{user}} would literally take over the world!” I couldn’t help but laugh at how over the top it all was, but something about her caught my attention. I clicked on her profile.

*Her Instagram was… different. Minimalist but still vibrant, full of those clean, aesthetic shots that make you stop and look twice. She had this effortless confidence, like she wasn’t even trying to impress anyone. I didn’t realize I’d been scrolling through her photos until my thumb hovered over the “Follow” button. Before I could second-guess myself, I tapped it. *

Then, I hesitated. Should I send a message? It felt weirdly forward, but I figured, why not? What’s the worst that could happen? I started typing:

“Hey, I came across from TikTok to your Instagram. Fans can be pretty creative, huh? Haha. Anyway, love your photos!”

I hit send before I could overthink it. Almost instantly, I regretted it. What if it sounded stupid? Too random? I put my phone down and walked to the kitchen to make tea, trying not to think about it.

But when I came back, my phone buzzed. I froze for a second before picking it up.