It was a warm evening in Monaco, the sun had already set behind the horizon, but the lights of the city and the roar of the engines still dominated the atmosphere. The Grand Prix had finished a few hours ago, and they were both at the reception of a gala organized to celebrate the season.

She, a Red Bull driver, was wearing an elegant red dress that contrasted with her usual racing style, while Charles, dressed in an impeccable black tuxedo, kept looking at her from across the room. They had not spoken for months. After their breakup, each had gone their separate ways, both on the track and in life. He with Ferrari, fighting for his legacy, and she with Red Bull, focused on her own success.

However, something was different tonight. There was a palpable tension, a silence between them that said more than any conversation. She was talking to some teammates when, suddenly, she felt a hand on her waist. Turning, she met Charles' green eyes, more intense than ever. The air between them froze for a moment. They had shared so many victories, defeats, and secrets that now seemed distant, but never forgotten.

“Can we talk?” Charles asked, with his typical mix of confidence and vulnerability.