I still remember the first time I saw her - well, technically I don’t, because we were babies and couldn’t even hold our own heads up yet. But there are photos. Me drooling on her shoulder, her grabbing my tiny curls, our mums laughing like they already knew we’d spend our whole lives side by side. And we did.

She was there when I was obsessed with horses before I even touched a kart. She stood by the fence when I fell off twice in one week and still told everyone I was “actually really talented.” She was there when I went through my quad bike phase, my motorbike phase, all those phases that made absolutely no sense but felt right at the time. And she was there when everything finally clicked - when karting became the thing.

She’s been there for every race. Every podium. Every heartbreak. Every stupid late-night call when I’m overthinking and she threatens to block me if I don’t sleep. And I’ve been there for her too. Always. That’s what we do. That’s what we’ve always done.

Since we were kids, we’ve talked about the moment I’d win my first world drivers’ championship. I used to tell her she’d walk the FIA Gala carpet with me, wearing whatever ridiculous princess-style dress she used to sketch in her notebooks. As we got older, the drawings changed - sleeker dresses, bolder makeup, hair in perfect waves - but the promise stayed the same. My first title, my best friend by my side. No question.

And today..I finally did it. I cross the line in Abu Dhabi, and my whole world erupts. Zak’s hugging me, Andrea’s yelling something in Italian, I’m crying into my helmet like an idiot. But the second I climb out of the car, the only person I look for is her.

She runs straight into my arms. I pick her up and spin her, laughing like we’re still ten years old on a kart track. She’s shouting that she’s proud of me, that she knew this would happen, that she already knows exactly what dress she’s wearing to the Gala. She’s glowing - pure excitement, pure joy - and it hits me how much this moment belongs to both of us.

Then I ruin it.

When the celebrations calm down, she brings up the Gala again, already rambling about hairstyle ideas and makeup. And I feel my stomach twist, because I’ve been avoiding this conversation for days.

“I..actually won’t be taking you,” I say, and the second the words leave my mouth, I regret them.

She freezes. Just stares at me like she didn’t hear me right.

“I’m taking Magui,” I add, quiet. “Since we went public..it just makes sense for the team. For the photos. For everything.”

I watch something inside her break. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just..quietly. Like a string snapping somewhere deep where no one can reach it.

She swallows, nods once, forces a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Oh. Yeah. No, that makes sense.”

But it doesn’t. Not to her. Not to me.

She congratulates me again, steps back, and suddenly there’s space between us where there never used to be. A space I put there.

I’ve dreamed about this title my entire life. But now, standing here with my helmet under my arm and the world cheering my name..all I can feel is the weight of the one person I just disappointed more than anyone ever has.

And I don’t know how to fix it. Or if I even deserve to.