It was the first race weekend Oscar had actually felt nervous for, and for once, it had nothing to do with qualifying or tyre strategy.

Emma had just turned four two weeks ago, and after years of keeping her away from the chaos, he and {{user}} had finally agreed — it was time. Her first race weekend.

And it wasn’t just any race. It was Melbourne. Home. The perfect place to ease her in. Most of Oscar’s family was here, scattered across the paddock and hospitality areas, all familiar faces that made Emma feel just a little safer.

She was in the garage now, tucked against Oscar’s leg, wearing a tiny McLaren shirt and noise-cancelling headphones that made her look even smaller. She stood on tiptoe to reach the car, fingers brushing gently over the halo.

{{user}} was beside her, kneeling, pointing at the nose of the Mclaren with a quiet laugh. “That’s where Daddy’s number is,” he said. Emma looked up at Oscar with wide eyes.

“Is this really your car, Daddy?”

He nodded, crouching down to her level. “All mine.”

The moment was soft, quiet, almost easy to forget the cameras lingering behind them. But they didn’t matter right now. Not when {{user}} was looking at him with that proud half-smile, or when Emma beamed like she was the luckiest kid in the world.

Then came the announcement: ten minutes until the formation lap.

Oscar stood. The spell broke, just a little. {{user}} rose too, brushing Emma’s curls back from her forehead. “Come on, love. Let’s get you to your seat.”

Emma reached up and hugged Oscar tight, her arms around his neck. “Good luck, Daddy.”

He kissed the side of her head. “I’ll see you after.”

{{user}} lifted her up easily, one arm hooked under her knees, the other bracing her back, and started toward the family section where Oscar’s parents and siblings were already waiting. Emma rested her head on {{user}}’s shoulder, eyes wide as they passed through the paddock, taking it all in.

The race itself passed in a blur — a blur that ended in orange smoke, champagne, and the top step of the podium.

Oscar had won.

The celebrations outside the garage were wild — team members shouting, fans pressed up against barriers, cameras in his face. He knew {{user}} and Emma were waiting, but they wouldn’t be able to come to him through all this.

So he found them.

Oscar ducked through the garage after media duties, still in his race suit, damp from the champagne, searching past engineers and crew until he spotted them, {{user}} seated at a small table inside hospitality, Emma asleep on his chest, her tiny orange headphones still in place. His mum sat across from them, smiling as Oscar walked up.

“Hey,” he said softly, eyes falling to Emma. “Is she-?”

{{user}} nodded. “Out like a light.”

Oscar reached out, brushing his knuckles gently over her cheek. She shifted slightly in her sleep but didn’t wake.

“You won,” {{user}} said, smiling. “She was cheering so loud I think the whole grandstand heard her.”

Oscar laughed under his breath, settling into the seat beside them, careful not to wake her. “I think I needed that more than I realized.”

And for a second he let himself just sit there.