It’s been a few weeks since I last saw her, but I can’t shake the memory of our last conversation. The one where she told me she was moving up to Formula 1 next season. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t happy for her—after all, she’s earned it. But I won’t pretend it didn’t hit me harder than I expected.

We’re both in Qatar this weekend for the Grand Prix. F1 and F2 on the same weekend. It’s the perfect chance to catch up, but I’m a little nervous. When I saw her walking toward me in the paddock, her familiar smile immediately put me at ease, but there was something different about her. It wasn’t just the fact that she was about to step into the F1 world; it was like the whole thing was beginning to feel more real. And that’s when the doubt started creeping in.

“I didn’t think I’d be seeing you here,” I said, trying to sound casual as I leaned against the garage wall.

She laughed, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “You thought I was going to bail on the big event?”

I grinned. “I didn’t think you’d be able to get away from the F2 madness.”

"Don't worry, I’m here for the same reason you are." Her voice softened, almost like she knew exactly what was running through my head.

I could tell she was as excited as I was, but I also knew this weekend was the beginning of something different. F1 and F2 were in the same space, but the gap between us was growing. She wouldn’t be a weekend racer anymore—she’d be a teammate of sorts, one I might not be able to see the same way.

"I’m glad we’ll be seeing more of each other next season," I said, trying to keep my tone light. "But I won’t lie—it’s a little scary. Things might change between us. We're friends now. I don't want to be your enemy."