#f2 ff

For as long as you could remember, you had noticed that love wasn’t always the kindest towards you. From one-sided crushes to having your heart crushed entirely by your ex, you honestly don't understand why the universe could be so cruel. That was until you met Paul.

As one of the social media managers for the Formula 2 grid, you handled posts and updates throughout race weekends. Being around the same age as most of the younger drivers, you got along with them pretty easily.

But none of them caught your attention quite like Paul Aron.

You’ve always noticed Paul. It’s hard not to, really. He’s the kind of person who effortlessly draws attention with his charm, his smile, and the way he carries himself—like he’s not just a talented racer, but someone who genuinely enjoys life, which made him one of the highlights of your first season on the grid as well.

His presence lights up a room, and though you’ve crossed paths a few times during FIA events or networking opportunities, you’ve never had the chance to talk to him. But every time you see him, something about him draws you in, leaving you with a flutter in your chest that you can’t quite explain.

It happens again one evening, at a Porsche networking event. You’re standing near the refreshment table, trying to stay calm as you check your phone, making sure everything’s ok for your blog post the next day. Then you hear a voice, smooth and warm, cutting through the chatter.

“Is the Wi-Fi in this place always this spotty, or is it just tonight?” Paul says, his tone light and friendly.

You glance up, slightly startled. His smile catches you off guard, as if he’s genuinely amused by the moment, not just making small talk. He’s standing a few feet away, holding a drink in one hand, his other hand casually resting on the edge of the table.

You laugh softly, trying to steady your nerves. “Honestly, it might just be this place. I’ve had worse reception at airports.”

He chuckles, a sound that’s easygoing and somehow puts you at ease. “I swear, Wi-Fi is the real race here. Always competing with my connection.”

You can’t help but smile at the way he talks, as though you’re both sharing a private joke. The conversation stays light, but it’s easy. There’s no awkwardness. He listens as much as he speaks, and you feel like, for a few moments, the world narrows down to just the two of you. But then, just as quickly as the moment began, it’s over. 

Paul nods, excusing himself to chat with someone else, leaving you standing there, feeling a strange mix of giddy and disappointed.

Over the next few days, you find yourself replaying that brief encounter in your mind, analyzing every word, every glance. Each time you pass him at the track or at another event, you catch yourself lingering, watching him from the corner of your eye, fascinated by the way he interacts with everyone around him.

He’s effortlessly kind, almost too charismatic for his own good, and you can’t help but be drawn to him even more, though you keep your feelings to yourself.

It’s all so easy for him, and you can’t shake the thought that he’s the kind of person who could make anyone feel special. Even if he doesn’t notice you, you find yourself quietly admiring him from afar.

One evening, you’re idly scrolling through social media, distracted by the usual updates and posts, when something catches your eye. It’s a tag in one of Paul’s photos, leading you to a girl’s account. You hesitate for a moment, but curiosity wins out, and you click on it.

You had seen this girl around and recognized her as the new Hi-Tech GP social media intern.

At first, it’s easy to tell yourself that you’re just browsing. After all, it’s just another account, right? But soon, you find yourself diving deeper—scrolling through the posts, the captions, the shared moments between them.

Each photo feels like a glimpse into a world you’ll never be a part of: the vacations, the inside jokes, the smiles exchanged in private moments.

At first, you brushed it off as nothing more than a friendship, but the more you saw, the more it seemed like there was something more. It’s all perfectly curated, as if everything about their relationship is designed to be seen, to be admired.

Before you even knew it, you find it. A highlight that’s pinned at the top of her profile—a video of Paul looking at her with such tenderness in his eyes.

The way he smiles, so genuine, so in love, sends a sharp pang through your chest. You swallow hard, the weight of the moment settling in. He’s taken. And there’s nothing you can do about it.

As you sat there, staring at more photos of them smiling, traveling, and sharing intimate moments (there were even photos of her with his family and you almost felt like throwing up), the weight of it settled on you.

It hit you all at once—the reality that Paul wasn’t just out of reach, but he was with someone else. And in that moment, the pain was sharper than you expected. You’d been holding onto a hope that was never yours to have, and suddenly you’re reminded of why you never pursued a connection, until now.

Another rush of emotions hit you like a bus—jealousy, sadness, and a crushing sense of inadequacy. You couldn’t help but compare yourself to the girl in the photos, wondering if you were ever enough or if you’d ever measure up to what Paul seemed to have with someone else.

It seemed impossible, especially when you were just a regular girl, whilst Paul’s girlfriend looked like she modeled during the off-season.

It didn’t make sense, you knew that. After all, you had no claim over him. But the feelings didn’t care about logic. The more you thought about it, the more it hurt—you couldn’t shake the sting of seeing them together, knowing you weren’t ever meant to be part of his story.

It felt like a cruel reminder that no matter how much you’d hoped, love was always just out of reach. The realization hits you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you can’t bring yourself to look away.

It is now the present and you feel better, but you haven’t fully healed from the trauma just yet. You were so determined to distract yourself from the pain that you had thrown yourself into work and your blog that you had created as an escape from the world.

The rhythm of curating content helps clear your mind, and you even rediscover hobbies you had set aside for too long in the midst of it all. You hadn't given up on love entirely but forced yourself to keep your mind occupied so that the pain would be the least of your worries.

Whenever the emotions and stress of work start to overwhelm you, you lean on your friends, finding comfort in their support and understanding. It’s not a perfect fix, but it helps you push forward, one step at a time.

Ever since you decided to swamp yourself with work, you started to find new friendships with the other rookies and drivers on the grid.

Pepe Martí is someone you’ve seen around before, but you’ve never really interacted with much. You were always mostly with Paul or Ollie, sometimes Isack, Pepe’s teammate, but you barely crossed each other’s paths unless it came to media or updates regarding the F2 socials.

Unexpectedly, as you start to bump into him more often, you start noticing his presence just a bit more. At first, it’s casual—a quick hello in passing, a smile shared before he goes on his way. But soon, it feels like more.

You start to notice how often your paths cross, as if the universe is aligning in subtle ways, but you digress, since you were way too focused on yourself and work to even think about anything else.

Soon enough, you find yourself hanging around the Campos Racing garage during the next few races. What catches you off guard is how warm and attentive Pepe is whenever you’re there to have a casual chat or just to relax before they get on track.

In every conversation, whether it’s about racing or something completely unrelated, he listens with genuine interest.

There’s no rush, no forced small talk. It’s as if he cares about what you’re saying, and that’s something you didn’t realize you’d been missing.

You first notice it one afternoon when you’re at the F2 paddock, buried in your phone and laptop as you work on a new blog post. A familiar voice interrupts your focus.

“Hey,” Pepe says, leaning against the fence next to you with a casual smile. His presence is relaxed but unwavering, as if he’s just always there. “I saw your latest post about the Monaco Grand Prix. That was pretty solid. You have a real way with words.”

You glance up, a little surprised by the compliment, but you return his smile. “Thanks,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’ve been diving into the details a bit more lately.”

You weren't used to compliments on things like your blog, but when someone notices how much work you put in, you can’t help but feel bashful.

Pepe nods, clearly interested. “I can tell. I didn’t realize you knew so much about the strategy behind it all.”

“F1 is a lot more than just the race itself,” you explain, feeling a spark of excitement. “It’s the stories, the tactics, the behind-the-scenes stuff that gets missed.”

He seems genuinely engaged. “You should do a piece on how the strategy changes with the weather conditions next time. It’d be interesting to see your take on it.”

You blink in surprise, almost speechless. “That’s a great idea, actually,” you admit, a little flustered.

Pepe grins. “Glad you think so. I’ll be reading it when it’s up.” He straightens up, giving you a wink before walking away, leaving you both flattered and puzzled by his sudden interest.

‘Lock in, Y/n. God, now is not the time to be flustered because of a guy,’ you try to shake off the feeling but can’t help but feel a newfound sense of appreciation towards Pepe.

Over the next few days, you notice Pepe around more. It starts with small things—asking for your opinion on the latest race results, asking if you’re going to any of the after-race events, or simply offering a casual “Hey, how’s the blog going?” when he sees you walking between the pits.

Each time, his words are light but thoughtful, as though he’s genuinely interested, not just making small talk. There’s no rush to any of his actions, no pressure—just a quiet confidence that feels both comforting and intriguing.

One evening, after a long day of racing, you find him sitting in the garage and staring out at the grandstand as he is looking up at the sunset. You walk over, hesitant but curious.

“Mind if I join?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looks up, his smile warm and easy. “Not at all. The view’s better with company, anyway.”

You sit down next to him, and for a few moments, there’s just the hum of the distant engines and the warmth of the setting sun. Then, quietly, Pepe turns toward you.

“I like how you see things,” he says, his voice sincere. “The way you talk about the races, the details... it’s like you bring a whole new perspective to it. Not many people see it the way you do.” You look at him, surprised by his words.

“I’m just... trying to share the side of it people don’t always notice. You know, the stuff that’s hidden.” Pepe nods slowly, as if processing your words. “Yeah, I get that. You have a way of making the unseen things feel important.”

For a moment, you both sit in comfortable silence, the connection between you growing deeper with each passing second. He doesn’t push. He doesn’t rush. He’s just there, a steady presence, showing up when you least expect it.

And slowly, it starts to feel like maybe this quiet, consistent attention is something more than just friendly banter.

It wasn’t noticeable at first—mostly small gestures that you brush off as coincidence.

One morning, after a particularly tough day at the track, you’re buried in your laptop, trying to finish up a blog post, when you hear footsteps behind you.

You look up to find Pepe standing there, holding out a Red Bull can in your direction with a small smile.

“Figured you could use this,” he says, his voice casual but thoughtful. “You looked like you could use a pick-me-up.”

You blink, surprised by the gesture. Energy drinks weren’t exactly your choice of drink when it came to caffeine, but you were grateful for the drink. “Thanks, I really appreciate it.”

Pepe shrugs, a playful glint in his eyes. “No problem. I’ve been there—long days, late nights. Thought a Red Bull might help since I don’t really like coffee.”

You accept the drink and open it, feeling a warmth spread through you—not from the Red Bull, but from the kindness in his eyes.

It’s not the first time he’s done something like this. The more you think about it, the more you realize that, over the past few weeks, he’s been going out of his way to make sure you feel seen—whether it’s checking in on how your day’s going or making sure you’re okay during hectic moments.

As the days pass, he starts sharing stories about his own struggles in racing—how he’s dealt with pressure, the challenges of balancing his personal life with his career (not to mention the shitty luck he’d been having lately).

His openness catches you off guard, and you find yourself listening intently, feeling a connection you didn’t expect.

“You’d be surprised how much racing can mess with your head sometimes,” he says one afternoon, leaning against a wall as he talks. “But you have to push through, even when everything feels off.”

His words linger with you long after the conversation ends. And for the first time, you see him in a new light—not just as someone who’s kind and attentive, but as someone who truly understands the ups and downs of life, someone who knows how to make you feel special without even trying.

Despite Pepe’s kindness lately, you hesitate. Every time he goes out of his way to make you feel special, you can’t help but feel a flutter in your chest, but something pulls you back.

Your mind still lingers on Paul—the way he smiled at her, the way his presence felt so magnetic, even from a distance. It’s like an anchor you can’t shake, a feeling you’re not ready to let go of.

One night, unable to sleep, you find yourself texting your closest friend, Marina. You vent about everything—how much you’re drawn to Pepe’s attention, but how you feel stuck on Paul, unable to move past the crush that was never meant to be.

Your Marina’s reply comes almost immediately. "You’re holding onto something that wasn’t yours to begin with. Paul is in a relationship, and no matter how much you wish it were different, you deserve more than just hoping for a chance."

The words hit harder than you expect, and you feel the truth in them—like a weight lifting off your chest. You pause, staring at the screen, then take a deep breath. "I know," you text back. "I’m just scared to let go."

Your friend’s response is simple but reassuring: "Letting go doesn’t mean forgetting. It just means making space for something that’s actually real."

You close your eyes for a moment, letting those words sink in. And for the first time, you feel the weight of holding onto Paul begin to lift, replaced by a quiet sense of clarity. Maybe you’re ready to move forward.

It’s late one evening, and you find yourself talking to Pepe again, this time in the quiet of a nearly empty garage after a long day of media and racing.

The conversation starts off light, but as the hours pass, something shifts. You’re sitting across from him, both of you exhausted but not ready to call it a night.

Without warning, Pepe looks at you, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something more earnest.

“You know,” he says, his voice softer than usual, “I really admire how you handle everything. I’ve seen the way you juggle work, racing, everything. You’ve got this strength about you that’s... rare. It’s not just about how you push through tough times, but the way you stay true to yourself, even when everything feels impossible.”

You blink, caught off guard by the sincerity in his words. “I... don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he replies, his gaze steady. “I just think you’re incredible. And I don’t think enough people tell you that.”

His words catch you off guard, and something inside you stirs—a warmth, a flutter of something new. The walls you’ve carefully built around yourself begin to crack, just a little.

It’s not just the compliment itself, but the way he says it—without any expectation, no hidden motive. Just pure, honest admiration.

You look at him, really look at him, and for the first time, you begin to see him in a new light. He’s not just kind and attentive—he’s genuine, and that genuineness makes everything about him feel different, something you didn’t expect.

You sit in silence for a moment, letting his words settle in. The weight of the day, the pressure of expectations, and the uncertainty that’s been following you around seem to melt away, if only for a brief second.

You didn’t realize how much you needed to hear that—to be seen, really seen, for who you are and not just what you do.

Pepe shifts a little, his gaze still warm and steady. “I know and understand that it’s not easy. I’ve seen how much effort you put into everything you do. But don’t forget that you deserve to have someone see you for the amazing person you are, not just for what you’re capable of.”

You swallow, blinking away the unexpected emotion. The vulnerability in his words makes your heart ache, but in a way that feels freeing, like a weight lifting off your shoulders. “I... don’t know if I believe that,” you admit, your voice softer than you expected.

“You will,” he says with a smile that makes your chest flutter. “Because you’re worth it. You’ve always been worth it.”

The sincerity in his eyes, the quiet but powerful way he expresses his admiration—it breaks through the last of the walls you’ve built up around yourself.

In that moment, you realize how much he’s not just seen you, but understood you. And maybe, just maybe, it’s time to start seeing him, too, not as someone in the background of your thoughts, but as someone who could be a part of your future.

Suddenly, you realize that this connection with him could be more than just a passing feeling.

As the days pass, you find yourself spending more time with Pepe—whether it's during work events, casual hangouts, or just those quiet moments where the world seems to slow down. And with each interaction, you begin to notice the little things that set him apart.

It’s in the way he listens when you talk, really listens, as if he values every word you say. He doesn't just hear you; he understands you.

When you ramble on about your latest fashion idea or a new post you're planning for your blog, he’s there, nodding along, offering insights or just genuinely interested in what excites you. He makes you feel like your passions are important, even if they seem trivial to others.

And then there’s the way he encourages you, not just with words, but in his actions. When you doubt yourself, he’s there to remind you of your strength, to tell you that you’re capable of so much more than you realize.

It’s the little things—those quiet words of encouragement when you need them most—that make you feel seen in ways you hadn’t expected.

But perhaps most of all, it’s the care he shows for your happiness. It’s the way he asks about your day, not because he feels he has to, but because he genuinely wants to know.

How your day went, if you’re feeling okay, if there's anything he can do to make things better. It’s a kindness you didn’t know you needed, and slowly, you begin to realize that these small acts—these simple gestures—are what make him someone truly special.

When things aren’t going as smoothly for him, you’re there to support him in the same way. You’re with him through the highs and the lows, whether it’s during a frustrating race where he’s forced to retire early or a weekend where things just don’t seem to click.

After a no-finish result in one of the races, you tell him: “You gave it your all. It wasn’t your day, but I know you'll bounce back.” It’s the small, thoughtful words that show him you care, even when he’s at his lowest.

Then comes the Azerbaijan Grand Prix. You’re watching the race unfold, and your stomach drops when you see his car lose control and crash.

You hold your breath, your heart pounding, as the screen cuts away. Your thoughts race until you hear an update confirming that he’s okay, but you can’t help but worry. You know he’s going to be shaken up, even if it doesn’t show.

You’re one of the first people to get to the medical bay after the crash. When you walk in, Pepe is sitting on the bed, his helmet off, his face a mix of frustration and exhaustion.

His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, there's a silence between you. He’s still processing everything that just happened.

“Hey," you say softly, approaching him. "You good?"

He gives a small, tired smile. "Yeah, just... it's frustrating, you know? I thought I had it under control, but... things happen. Not to mention the lock up we had the other day,"

You pull up a chair beside him, sitting down without a second thought. "I saw it. But you’re here, and that’s all that matters." You place a hand on his arm, offering a quiet reassurance. "I’m just glad you're okay."

He meets your eyes, his expression softening. "Thanks for being here," he says, his voice sincere. "It means a lot, more than you know."

For a moment, you just sit there together, the chaos of the race weekend fading into the background. And as you talk about the race, his crash, and what’s next, you realize just how much you care—not just for his career, but for him.

The connection you share feels deeper than ever, something solid and real.

After everything—the highs and lows, the moments of doubt and clarity—you find yourself standing at a crossroads.

You think about all the times you’ve hesitated, the moments you almost pulled away, unsure if you were ready to move on, still clinging to a love that never was. But as you look at Pepe, sitting beside you, as present and steady as he’s always been, something clicks.

It’s not just the way he’s supported you, or how he’s always seen the best in you, even when you couldn’t see it in yourself.

It’s how he makes you feel, not just valued, but cherished for exactly who you are—the messy, complex, imperfect you. In his eyes, you’re enough. And for the first time in a long time, you believe it, too.

Pepe’s kindness, patience, and unwavering support have shown you a kind of love that’s not based on fleeting moments or unattainable ideals. It’s real. It’s grounded. And more than anything, it’s filled with hope—a hope you hadn’t realized you’d lost until now.

So, when he looks at you, his gaze filled with something deeper than friendship, you finally allow yourself to take the leap. You smile, a little unsure, but ready. “Pepe, I think I’m ready for this.”

He grins, his eyes lighting up with a warmth that makes your heart flutter. “Me too,” he says, his voice low and genuine. “I’ve been waiting for you to be ready.”

In that moment, you know, with certainty, that you’ve chosen the right path. You’re not just moving on—you’re moving forward, with someone who will walk beside you every step of the way, supporting you, loving you, and reminding you that you’re worthy of all the happiness you’ve been seeking.

Epilogue:

Months have passed since you and Pepe decided to give love a real shot, and life has never felt brighter. His unwavering presence and quiet strength have become your anchor, and the happiness you’ve found together is undeniable.

The laughter you share, the quiet moments together, and the way he looks at you with so much care and love, it all fills you with a peace you didn’t know was possible.

It’s the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix weekend, and Pepe is in peak form. You’re on the edge of your seat, clutching your puppy’s leash as the race unfolds.

When Pepe crosses the finish line in first place, the roar of the crowd barely registers as you’re too busy cheering alongside his parents with all your might.

Later, you meet him in parc fermé, tears of joy in your eyes as he steps out of the car. He doesn’t hesitate, pulling you into a tight hug, his helmet still tucked under his arm.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he whispers, his words meant just for you despite the bustling celebrations around you.

That evening, you’re by his side as the team celebrates his victory. The champagne flows, and the glow of his achievement lights up the room. But it’s the quiet moments you share—when he leans over to steal a kiss and murmurs how much you mean to him—that remind you how lucky you are.

The next day, as you’re strolling through the paddock together, you catch sight of Paul in the distance.

He’s talking to someone, but his eyes briefly flicker to you and Pepe. His expression shifts for just a second—an unrecognizable look you can’t quite place—but you don’t dwell on it.

Pepe squeezes your hand, and your attention snaps back to him. He’s smiling at you in that way that makes your heart race, the way that reminds you of why you chose him. The life you’ve built together is filled with love, laughter, and hope—and you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

With the Australian GP knocking on the door Melbourne filled up with tourists and fans even more than usual. The first time I got to witness it in 2017 was actually scary in a way for someone who didn’t know the city well yet. Getting from one part of the city to another was a hard task already, and all the shouting and crazy fans weren’t of much help when I tried to get some usable info out of them so I could finally get to my destination and get off the streets. It almost held me back from choosing Melbourne’s university, but I had to remind myself that it was just once a year and I shouldn't give up my plans because of it. Melbourne was beautiful and their schools were highly rated, giving me everything for a stable future. Luckily I was never disappointed by my choices as it was easy to get used to the life here and I even found some new friends who helped me every time I felt homesick. It wasn’t the worst usually, as I was truly content with how my life was going, but sometimes it just hit me out of nowhere and in those moments they were always there for me.

It was now the third year when we lived through the race weekend, meaning we finally had a working schedule with which we still followed our usual plans but stayed out of the bigger crowds. Although we were in the middle of the semester we always found time to enjoy the still warm weather and spend most of our free time outside. Usually our choice was the beach for the afternoons as even though it was packed until noon, the tourists never stayed for long. We usually arrived in the late afternoon and stayed well after the sun went down, and the temperature went down a little finally. The water usually stayed comfortable until later in the evening making it bearable for almost a whole 24 hours if you weren’t squeamish. Even if you were after spending a few weeks at the beach, everyone got used to it.

As soon as everyone finished with their lectures we got our things together and took the 5 minutes walk down to the beach. We had a favourite spot which was luckily never taken when we got down there. For a few minutes we just sat down, talking about our weeks. I shared a dorm room with two other girls, but we had a few friends who had their own apartments or lived with their family a bit farther away from our university. We usually had one or two days every week to catch up with them as in between lectures we were either too tired or didn’t have the time to do so. But most of the afternoons were ours fully and we used it the best we could to relax but still use that time to make memories for the few years we’re spending together. We could say it’s gonna stay the same after we graduate but everyone knew we would move to different countries as soon as we weren’t connected to Australia. Even I planned to go home, although I enjoyed living here and getting to be independent without my family behind my back.

“ Are you coming? ” One of the girls asked me, as they were already walking down to the water, while I was still standing around our towels with my phone in my hand. I was in the middle debating which sunset photo I should post from my gallery, but her voice made me look up.

“ Just a second. I’ll catch up. ” I smiled at her before looking back down at my screen. In the end my finger finally tapped the posting button and I pushed it aside while I got the sundress off that was on over my bikini.

Right before I would have ran after the girls, the device was back in my hands so I could check that the picture uploaded without a problem. A smile got on my face when I saw a reaction from one of my family members but as soon as it showed the whole list of the people who looked at my story, it faded away. For the past few months whenever I posted something he was always there in the first few seconds or at least minutes. I couldn’t understand what changed that he showed up in my life again, but I didn't really want to give him space in my thoughts either. It has been almost 4 years since we last talked and could call each other best friends, but I wasn’t about to take the first step and message him after he forgot about me until now. I just dropped my phone back into my bag, closing it and then caught up with my friends so they could make me forget about him again.

We spent quite some time in the water, swimming a few laps back and forth before just standing around and enjoying the last rays of sunshine while we chatted away. My thoughts were already in a different direction thanks to all the different topics that came up between us. Sometimes it was harder to make me forget time and time again, but turns out today I only needed some distraction and everything was set for an enjoyable night. With the sun completely off the sky the temperature dropped quickly and it was getting a bit chilly  for my liking in just a few minutes. When it was truly uncomfortable I gave up and walked back to the shore, sitting down on my own blanket and draping my towel around my shoulders. It immediately brought enough warmth over my body that I stopped shivering and could wait for them until they would get cold too. Until then I just went onto my phone to go through some posts of my friends. Sometimes I looked up to check on them just so they wouldn’t leave me out of something. One of those times I saw a person coming my way and although I didn’t mind too much attention to it, when he continued and there was no one else in my close proximity I felt like he might be coming to me. In the end I was right as he turned right towards me and then stopped just a few steps away from our blankets.

“ Never thought you would exchange our lovely and perfect red stars for ugly white ones. ” He spoke up and I could recognise the voice even though his face was almost unseeable thanks to him standing with his back towards the moon. My jaw dropped immediately and I felt like I grew roots into the ground as I couldn’t move my body. “ If you want me to fuck off, just tell me. It’s okay. I just thought we could maybe talk, and from the pictures I saw that you’re here. Hoped you didn’t go home yet so I could catch you and... ” He started rambling but I was quick to finally push myself up and hug him immediately. I always imagined our reunion with me being angry at him, but somehow I couldn’t get myself to feel that way now that he was standing right in front of me.

“ You idiot. ” I told him not leaving any space for questions and I could feel as he finally relaxed and hugged me back. “ The biggest in the whole world. ” I added with a sigh, closing my eyes as my brain started functioning again and I had an urge to kick his shin at least.

“ I can live with that. ” Marcus let out a laugh and I could feel as my heart jumped a little at the sound. It was something that always reminded me of our home and spending every possible second together. “ I’m sorry for disappearing. ” He let out a sigh, letting go of me only when we realised my wet bathing suit soaked his shirt, although even he didn’t care about it for too long.

“ What are you doing here? I thought F2 wasn't coming here. ” I asked him confused, knowing that we wouldn’t be in this situation if he traveled here for one of the races in the past two years. “ Not like I’m complaining, but I can hardly believe my own eyes and senses. ” I shook my head a little before looking up at him again. He changed, quite a bit since we last met and even though I saw pictures of him it was different in a face-to-face situation.

“ Ferrari invited a few of us so we could gather some experience. The speed I accepted the offer with might have raised some eyebrows. ” Marcus hid his face in his palm, making me chuckle as I could see the situation unfold in front of my eyes like I was there. “ Thought I would DM you and ask if you wanted to meet up maybe. But I realized it would be better offline. ” I had to roll my eyes at his first idea although I knew he wasn’t lying and it for sure went through his brain as a real possibility.

“ You’re lucky you didn’t. I would have blocked you forever I think. My plan was connecting my fist with your face if we ever meet again, right until you showed up here. ” I shook my head with a smile, as I wasn’t proud of what I wanted to do to him. “ I was really angry when you just stopped talking to me. I tried so hard to reach you, but it felt like you didn’t even exist anymore even though they were talking about you almost every week. ” I sighed, sitting back down and leaving enough space for him too.

“ Would have been deserved actually. ” His fingers scratched at the nape of his neck and I could see the tint of purple traveling up his neck. I watched him as he sat down, pulling his legs up and resting his arms onto them. “ I really am sorry. For a part everything got busy with all the training, races and studying, but at the same time I know damn well a message here and there should have been possible. I messed up, everything. ” His eyes shined even in the minimal light of the moon, and I could get myself to look away. Even feeling the burning stares on my back from my friends didn’t get me to turn around.

“ I won’t say that it’s okay, but I accept your apology. How could I not. ” I let out a breath that I realized was still stuck in me since the initial surprise took over my body. “ It feels like we didn’t even skip over like 3 years of each other’s life. Only difference is that you’re finally taller than me, but the baby face’s still there. ” My hand went up to his cheek to pat it gently like my grandma did for him all the time when he came over for lunch. He always hated it but knew that it was a gesture of love from her and a way to show Marcus that she considered him part of our family.

“ Yeah, I guess it’s going to stay forever. ” Marcus huffed, moving his head back a little to avoid my attack, although he failed miserably. “ I almost forgot, congrats for uni. I remember how hard you were studying to get in. Everyone home was ecstatic when I told them about it. ” His hand slapped his forehead, making me laugh with his expression at the slight stinging he caused himself.

“ Thank you, but it’s nothing compared to your second place last year. ” I shrugged a little but as soon as his lips pulled into a slight smirk my eyes rolled on their own. “ Surprise, surprise, I followed your career. Just as much as you followed my life for the past few months. ” I poked him in the ribs with my finger, making him wince for a second before we both started laughing at the little sound he made.

“ Fair. I still hate how Instagram shows who opened your stories. ” He shook his head a little and both of our heads turned towards the water when we realized the background chatting was getting closer and closer to where we were sitting. They were just a few meters away when my eyes landed on their figures and I sensed when Marcus stood up from next to me, making me push myself up too.

I didn’t feel too anxious about him meeting my other friends, although I knew what this meant for my evening at the dorm with them. They would have an immense amount of questions both about him and us, even though I already mentioned him when we were bringing up our past. A few of them even knew about my past feelings about him and how him reappearing on my socials played with my emotions, but they only saw a few photos of him. This was another level and I knew he would be the topic for at least the next week between us, for one reason or another. Depends on how we get on from this point and if we manage to keep in contact when they have to fly away again.

“ Oh, I knew it wasn’t just my imagination. I told you someone was coming here. ” My roommate spoke up as soon as they got close enough to make us out from the darkness. “ You’re Marcus, right? ” She stepped right in front of him, reaching her hand out while introducing herself. I always admired her boldness even in front of strangers.

“ Yes, although I didn’t know so many people knew me from here. ” Marcus let out an uneasy chuckle, looking at me a bit concerned. I just shook my head dismissively, almost telling him that it was just a ‘Girl group’ thing. Relief washed over me though that I didn’t share a lot about him, behind his back.

I watched from the sideline as everyone introduced themselves to him and for a second it felt domestic as all of them shot me a concerned glance towards me. It felt like they would pounce at him if they saw that I was uncomfortable in his presence. While it made me feel loved in a way, I also didn’t want them to really chip on the situation. It was something that better dealt with in private as I felt like we had to talk lots of things through to get back to the friendship we left behind years ago. This wasn’t the setting for a conversation like that.

“ We should probably get home before it gets really late. School won’t wait in the morning. ” I spoke up before any of them could start questioning him. We would never be able to get going then. “ Maybe we can catch up sometime before the race? I’m sure you will have enough to do during the weekend. ” I turned back towards Marcus who looked just as relieved as I did seconds ago.

“ Yeah, that would be better. Maybe lunch, or a coffee in the afternoon? Whenever you’re free of course. ” He nodded a little, still glancing at the girls who were either packing up or staring him down behind me.

“ I’m up for either of those. Surprise me. ” I grinned at him, feeling the pull on my arm when everyone was ready. “ Is your number the same? ” I asked him, already taking a step back, but waiting for his answers.

“ Yes. Never changed. ” Marcus nodded again, a little smile playing on his lips at the idea that we’re going to meet up again probably. At least I hoped so. Why else would he stalk me down and come up to me for a chat?

The Porsche event was buzzing with energy—flashes from cameras, sleek cars on display, and a steady hum of conversation.

You were there for work, capturing social media content, blending into the crowd as much as you could. Paul wasn’t supposed to notice you, but somehow, he did.

It happened when you were leaning over a display, adjusting your camera to capture the perfect angle of a custom car interior.

He caught the glint of your necklace in the light, then the furrow of your brow as you concentrated. Something about the moment made him pause.

“Nice angle,” he remarked, stepping closer.

You turned, startled, only to be met with the unmistakable blonde hair and piercing gaze. “Oh, thanks,” you said, blinking. “Just trying to make this dashboard look like art.”

He chuckled lightly. “Tough job, but I think you nailed it.”

The conversation was brief, polite, and nothing out of the ordinary. But as Paul walked away, he realized he was still thinking about it hours later. Something about your calm focus, your easy laugh—it stuck with him.

Still, he shook his head. He had a girlfriend waiting for him at home, and this was nothing. Just a harmless interaction. Nothing more.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

It wasn’t like the typical interactions he had with people in his world. There was no pretense, no racing politics—just a brief, honest exchange.

Later, as he wandered through the event, his mind kept returning to that moment. He saw you again, a few feet away, scrolling through your phone near the refreshments, and without thinking, he approached you.

You looked up when he tapped your shoulder, a soft surprise in your expression. He couldn’t help but grin.

There was something about the way you carried yourself that was easy, refreshing even.

“You know, I didn’t think we’d run into each other again,” he said, trying to keep the conversation light, yet something in his voice betrayed his growing curiosity.

You laughed softly. “Seems like it.”

He wanted to say more, but the words seemed to get stuck. Instead, he just kept talking, enjoying the flow of the conversation.

You weren’t like everyone else he met—there was no pressure, no awkwardness. Just two people sharing a moment in the middle of an otherwise busy event.

When he excused himself, heading back into the crowd, he felt that same lingering pull, that feeling of wanting to know more about you.

It wasn’t something he had planned on, but it was there, quietly gnawing at him.

Shaking his head, he tried to push it down. It was just a conversation. Nothing more. But as he looked back at you from across the room, he couldn’t ignore the small ache that settled in his chest.

The next few weeks were a blur of race weekends, media duties, and endless travel. But as Paul went from one paddock to the next, there was something that stood out to him more than usual: you.

It started small—a fleeting wave when you passed by in the paddock, a brief exchange as he waited by the media wall. But over time, those small encounters grew.

You’d be walking from the garage, your camera in hand, and you’d make eye contact with him, a smile curving your lips in acknowledgment.

Every time he saw you, he felt a strange sense of calm. Your presence was comforting in a way he didn’t understand.

It was during a rare quiet moment in the paddock, just before the weekend’s first practice session, that you caught his eye again.

He had been talking with his team, but his gaze kept drifting back to where you were standing, casually chatting with a colleague.

There was something about you—your energy, your genuine interest in the world around you—that kept him coming back for more.

“You know,” he said, finally breaking away from his conversation and walking over to you, “I think I’m starting to see you everywhere these days.”

You laughed, a light, airy sound that made his heart skip. “Guess I’m just that hard to get rid of,” you teased, adjusting the strap of your camera bag.

Paul’s lips twitched upward. “Not complaining. It’s just... unexpected, that’s all.”

“I get that,” you said with a knowing look, as if you were sharing some unspoken understanding. “But hey, it’s a small paddock. I’m sure we’ll keep running into each other.”

There was a silence between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt easy, natural. Paul found himself wanting to hold onto the moment longer, to keep talking. But as usual, the bustle of the paddock pulled him away.

“See you around, yeah?” you said, offering him a smile that felt like it lasted longer than it did.

“Yeah. See you,” he replied, before watching you walk off, the noise of the paddock swallowing up the moment.

As the conversation with you wrapped up, Paul felt the familiar pull of the paddock around him—people walking by, the sound of teams running around, and the low hum of engines wrapping up for the afternoon.

He forced his attention back to his team, but his eyes kept flicking to where you stood, now chatting with Ollie and Kimi, the three of you laughing at something Kimi had said.

Paul watched you for a moment longer than he meant to, noting how natural you looked with them, how easily you fit into the rhythm of the paddock.

There was a lightness in the way you moved, a kind of grace that felt unforced, as if you belonged in this chaotic world in a way he hadn’t expected.

Ollie gestured toward the media area, and you turned to say something to him, your smile bright and easy.

As you walked away with them, Paul’s gaze lingered for a beat longer, watching your figure as you disappeared into the crowd.

He couldn’t help the slight pang of something—jealousy, maybe? Or just a sense of loss, the feeling that he was watching something he couldn’t quite touch. He shook his head, trying to shake the thought from his mind.

“Focus, Paul,” he muttered to himself, but the feeling of watching you walk away, so effortlessly at ease with everyone around you, stuck with him, tugging at him in a way he didn’t understand.

He turned back to his team, trying to keep his focus on the upcoming sessions for tomorrow, but it was hard to ignore the weight of that fleeting moment, the quiet ache in his chest that had begun to grow stronger.

The atmosphere at the Austria race was charged with the usual business of the paddock, but something felt different to Paul.

He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it was there—a subtle shift in the air whenever he crossed paths with you.

Normally, you were easygoing, quick to greet him with a smile, a joke, or an offhand comment. But today, you seemed... distant.

When he saw you in the media area, your eyes didn’t light up with recognition the way they used to. Instead, you nodded politely, your focus quickly shifting to your camera and phone, your attention entirely absorbed in your work.

It was during a break, when the noise of the paddock settled just enough for him to hear his own thoughts, that Paul noticed the change again.

You were with Pepe, filming his thoughts on the race but then laughing at something he’d said, your whole demeanor different.

The lightness in your voice, the way you looked at him—it wasn’t something he had seen with you before.

There was something undeniably intimate in the way you two interacted, an ease that seemed to draw you closer together with every passing minute.

Paul stood off to the side, the pang in his chest growing harder to ignore. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much, but it did.

A voice in the back of his mind told him it was none of his business, that he was being ridiculous. He had a girlfriend, after all. He was happy, or at least, he told himself he was.

Shaking his head, he pushed the thoughts aside. He had a girlfriend to focus on, and a podium to celebrate.

As the day drew to a close and people began to trickle off to various parts of the paddock, Paul walked toward his girlfriend, the familiar weight of her presence grounding him. Still, the image of you and Pepe together lingered, a knot in his stomach that refused to loosen.

Trying to push it away, he wrapped his arm around his girlfriend, smiling as they walked off together.

Paul and his girlfriend made their way through the paddock, yet he couldn’t help but glance around, his mind still racing. He tried to focus on the usual chaos of the post-race debriefs, the teams packing up, but his gaze wandered. That’s when he saw you again.

You were walking out of the paddock, talking to Pepe, your head tilted back in that carefree way he had grown used to seeing.

The two of you were so wrapped up in your conversation that you hardly seemed to notice the world around you, the familiar hum of race weekend continuing on without a care.

There was something about the way you walked side by side with Pepe that caught Paul off guard.

The way your shoulders brushed occasionally, the ease in your conversation—it wasn’t the playful, casual interaction he was used to seeing in passing.

This was different. There was a warmth between you two, something deeper, and it hit Paul harder than he expected

He caught himself staring for a second too long, before quickly looking away, focusing back on the path in front of him, his hand tightening around his girlfriend’s.

“You okay?” she asked, noticing the shift in his demeanor.

“Yeah,” Paul replied quickly, his tone too sharp, too distracted. He tried to force a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

He could still feel the weight of the moment—the way you and Pepe moved together, completely unaware of him standing there, and how it made something twist in his chest.

They continued walking, and Paul tried to shake off the unsettling feeling that lingered, but it stuck with him, gnawing at the back of his mind the rest of the day.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to escape the thought of you and Pepe, of whatever was happening between the two of you, and why it bothered him so much.

Over the next few races, Paul couldn’t escape the constant presence of Pepe in your life. It was subtle at first—just little moments here and there.

He noticed the way your eyes would light up when you saw him, the way you shared inside jokes with him during media breaks, your demeanor so easy and warm.

It was almost like there was a secret language between you two, something only you both understood.

At the Hungarian Grand Prix, Paul watched you and Pepe in the media area, standing close to one another, your body language casual yet intimate.

You blushed at something Pepe had said, your hand briefly hitting his arm as you leaned in, a soft, unspoken connection between the two of you.

Paul felt a pang in his chest, something that made him feel uncomfortably aware of the way his stomach tightened whenever he saw you and Pepe interact.

Why did it bother him so much? He tried to shake off the feeling, but it lingered, clouding his thoughts every time he saw you two together.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t know that you had your own life, that you were free to form whatever connections you wanted. But there was something about the way you and Pepe were—so naturally in tune with each other—that unsettled him.

As the races went on, Paul found himself constantly watching for those moments between you and Pepe.

The brief touches—his hand on the small of your back when you moved through the paddock together, the way your eyes seemed to linger a little longer on him than they should. It wasn’t anything overt, but to Paul, it was enough.

He couldn’t stop comparing it to the times he and his girlfriend had spent together, the way things had felt with her versus what he was seeing between you and Pepe.

He tried to push the thoughts away, reminding himself that he had a girlfriend, that he was in a committed relationship. So why did the sight of you and Pepe together leave him feeling uneasy?

Paul couldn’t help but replay those moments in his head as the races continued.

Each time he saw you and Pepe together, something inside him twisted—a feeling he couldn’t place, but one that wouldn’t go away.

He kept telling himself it was nothing, that he was overthinking it, but deep down, he knew it was more than that.

He watched you both interact at the next race, your easy camaraderie, the way you naturally gravitated toward each other. And yet, each time he saw it, a part of him felt... displaced.

It wasn’t jealousy—at least, that’s what he told himself.

He was just a little confused by the depth of the connection between you two, a connection that seemed to grow with every passing race.

When he saw you and Pepe together in the paddock once more, a thought crossed his mind—a thought he quickly dismissed but couldn’t shake. What if you and him were more than just friends?

He caught himself staring, but quickly turned away, focusing on his team, on his race, on anything to push the thought out of his mind.

He had a girlfriend, he was happy with his relationship, and yet... the image of you and Pepe together seemed to cling to him, gnawing at him, reminding him of how easily feelings could grow—how quickly things could change.

Paul’s heart rate quickened as he quietly passed by the Campos garage, the emptiness glaringly obvious. He was on his way back from a quick check-in with his team when the sound of your voice caught his attention.

He stopped in his tracks, not meaning to eavesdrop, but he couldn’t help it. There was a soft vulnerability in your tone, something unguarded.

He didn’t mean to listen, but the words reached him clearly, and he couldn’t stop himself from pausing just out of sight.

“You know,” Pepe said, his voice quieter than usual, “I really admire how you handle everything. I’ve seen the way you juggle work, racing, everything. You’ve got this strength about you that’s... rare. It’s not just about how you push through tough times, but the way you stay true to yourself, even when everything feels impossible.”

Paul felt a strange tightening in his chest. The way Pepe spoke, with such genuine reverence—it wasn’t something you heard often, especially from a friend.

It made the air in the garage feel heavier, like he was eavesdropping on something too private.

You blinked, clearly caught off guard by the sincerity in his words. “I... don’t know what to say.”

Pepe’s response was soft but unwavering, and there was a weight in it that Paul couldn’t shake.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he replied, his gaze steady. “I just think you’re incredible. And I don’t think enough people tell you that.”

Paul’s heart stuttered, and for a moment, he felt as though the world had paused around him.

The warmth in Pepe’s voice was undeniable, and the way you responded, with a slight hesitation, as though absorbing the weight of his words—it stung more than Paul cared to admit.

Without thinking, Paul took a few steps back, retreating from the conversation he’d unintentionally overheard.

The words continued to echo in his mind as he walked away, a feeling of discomfort settling deep in his gut.

‘Why does this matter?’ he asked himself, frustration building inside him. ‘You’re happy. You’ve got a girlfriend. Why does this feel... wrong?’

But no matter how much he tried to dismiss it, that hollow feeling in his chest wouldn’t go away. It stayed with him, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts, as he made his way back to his team.

The Azerbaijan Grand Prix weekend had been intense, and with the red flag out, the pit lane had erupted into a flurry of activity.

Paul, trying to refocus after the interruption, wandered over to the edge of the pit wall, where the teams were waiting for the all-clear. His eyes scanned the commotion, but they paused when he caught sight of you.

You were pacing near the garages, your eyes darting from one side of the track to the other. Paul couldn’t help but notice the urgency in your movements.

Something in his chest twisted as he saw you approach a few crew members, clearly searching for someone.

“Have you seen Pepe?” you asked, your voice light but with an edge of concern.

The words hit Paul harder than he expected. You weren’t just asking for someone—Pepe was the one you were looking for, and your voice held a quiet intensity, a level of care that didn’t go unnoticed.

His stomach dropped. The realization that whatever you and Pepe shared went beyond friendship, beyond casual, hit him like a wave.

Paul could feel the lump in his throat as he took in the scene. You weren’t just looking for him because you cared about him just like any other person would after a huge crash—you needed to see him.

Whatever connection you and Pepe had was real, solid, and deep. It wasn’t something temporary or fleeting; it was meaningful, and it was obvious to Paul now.

The easy way you spoke about him, the subtle gestures of affection, and now this—your clear worry over where he was—made Paul’s heart ache in a way he didn’t know how to process.

As you disappeared further into the pits, Paul felt a surge of frustration. Why was it bothering him so much? He had a girlfriend, he was committed.

He shouldn’t be feeling this way, especially not about someone who wasn’t even his to worry about.

But despite his best efforts to dismiss it, the thought of you and Pepe became more than just a passing observation. It gnawed at him, making the air in the pit lane feel suffocating.

He knew he needed to focus, to get back to the task at hand, but all he could think about was the connection you and Pepe shared.

Something about it felt... different. Real. And it left him with an unsettling feeling that wouldn’t go away.

When the race had ended, the chaos of the track slowly settling into a distant hum, but Paul couldn’t shake the feeling that had settled in his chest.

As the teams started to pack up to make way for the Formula 1 race that afternoon, he made his way toward the paddock, his eyes distracted by the blur of motion around him. But then he spotted you.

You were standing by the pitlane wall, just a few feet away from where Pepe was sitting, his helmet in his hands as he stared down at the pavement.

He looked dejected, frustrated—anyone could see that the race had taken its toll on him.

Without hesitation, you walked over to him, your steps soft but purposeful. For a moment, you simply stood there, your presence like a quiet comfort that seemed to ease some of the tension in his posture.

Then, without a word, you knelt down next to him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

Paul stopped in his tracks, watching as you leaned in, speaking softly to him.

From this distance, he couldn’t hear the words, but he could see the way Pepe’s shoulders relaxed, the way his gaze softened when he looked up at you.

You were there, steady and unwavering, offering him the kind of support that was deeper than mere sympathy.

For a brief moment, you touched his arm, a comforting gesture, before you sat down beside him on the wall.

The two of you sat there for a few minutes, a quiet exchange between you—one that was more than just words.

It was the way you both seemed to draw strength from each other in that moment. Paul couldn’t look away, a strange feeling swirling in his stomach.

There was something so undeniably intimate about the way you were together, something that he couldn’t ignore, no matter how much he tried.

He tried to push the thought away, to focus on his own race, but his mind kept returning to the sight of you with Pepe.

There was a connection there—something Paul hadn’t fully understood until now. You weren’t just friends; there was a deeper bond between you two. And the way you comforted him, like you had been doing this for years, made Paul’s chest tighten.

He quickly turned on his heel, retreating into the crowd, but the image of you and Pepe sitting together lingered in his mind.

It was clear now: whatever he had been trying to ignore, whatever unease had been growing inside him—it was real.

Over the off-season, Paul found himself in Rome with his family. The trip was meant to be a much-needed break—a time to relax and recharge before the next season began.

Rome was beautiful, rich with history, and bustling with energy.

But despite the charm of the city and the warmth of his family's company, Paul couldn't shake the restlessness in his chest.

In the evenings, after dinner, he would slip away from the table, retreating to the quiet of his hotel room.

It was easier to find solace there, away from the laughter and conversation, where he could get lost in his thoughts. That’s when he would inevitably pick up his phone, scrolling aimlessly through social media.

At first, it was just to catch up on messages or check in with his friends. But then, his thumb would always land on your profile.

He didn’t want to look. He really didn’t. But each time, the curiosity pulled him in.

There were so many photos of you and Pepe—casual beach days, dinners out, and snippets of your life together that made it clear how much you two meant to each other.

One photo stood out: you both were laughing on a boat, the Monaco coastline in the background, the sunset painting the sky.

You looked so carefree, so happy, and the way you were looking at Pepe—there was no mistaking it.

The caption was filled with sweet words and inside jokes, the words that only made sense to you two.

Another picture showed you both sitting at a café in Barcelona, the table littered with coffee cups and your faces lit up with smiles.

Paul stared at the screen, his stomach sinking. Each photo seemed to reaffirm the reality he didn’t want to face—that you and Pepe had become something more than just friends.

The truth stung. It felt like a door had quietly closed in his face, one he hadn’t even noticed before.

He tried to push the feeling away, telling himself that he had no right to feel this way. He was in a relationship, after all.

Yet, each photo made it harder to ignore the hollow ache in his chest. You had moved on, and it hurt in a way he couldn’t explain.

Sighing, he leaned back on the bed, his phone still in his hand. The city of Rome, with all its beauty and history, felt distant now.

The quiet hum of the hotel room contrasted sharply with the thoughts swirling in his mind. The pictures of you and Pepe lingered there, impossible to shake.

In Qatar, after a much-needed break, Paul finally achieved his first win. The atmosphere in the paddock was electric, the energy palpable as he stepped out of the car, feeling the weight of his hard work pay off.

The team surrounded him, celebrating with high-fives and cheers, the moment finally here after so many near-misses.

He stood there, basking in the glory, as the crowd's applause and his team's jubilation blended into a blur of pride and excitement.

Through the chaos, he caught sight of you approaching him. You looked professional, a smile on your face as you walked over to offer congratulations.

"Hey, congrats, Paul," you said warmly, the familiar tone of your voice always sounding like a breath of fresh air in the sea of race talk. "Huge win, and you were announced as Alpine’s reserve driver too."

“Thanks, really appreciate it," he replied with a grin, still riding the high of the moment.

You quickly shifted to work mode, pulling out your phone to shoot content for the Formula 2 account.

It was the usual routine—candid photos, a couple of quick clips, capturing the excitement of the win for the followers.

The energy between you two was easy and light, the kind of interaction he had grown used to over the past few months.

But then, after a brief exchange, you checked your watch, and without much more than a final smile, you were off, heading toward the direction of the paddock.

Paul watched as you quickly made your way through the crowd, no longer in his peripheral vision. His stomach turned slightly.

There was something about the way you’d left, the urgency in your step, that left him uneasy.

It wasn’t anything he could pinpoint exactly, but the thought of you rushing off to find Pepe—that same feeling from before, that quiet ache—was there again.

He forced himself to push the thought aside. This was his moment, his victory, and he couldn’t let the nagging feeling disrupt it.

But as he continued to smile for the cameras, the feeling lingered, hanging over him like a shadow that wouldn’t let go.

Just as Paul was getting lost in his thoughts, he heard footsteps approach. Looking up, he saw Pepe walking over, a wide grin on his face.

"Congrats, man," Pepe said, clapping him on the shoulder in a friendly gesture. "Well deserved."

“Thanks, mate. It’s been a long time coming," Paul replied, trying to match the warmth in his voice, though something about the moment felt oddly distant.

You were right beside him, your presence unmistakable. "Great job, again, Paul," you said, offering him a smile that was both genuine and professional, but Paul couldn’t ignore the way you seemed to linger slightly longer by Pepe’s side.

He almost didn’t notice, but the subtle touch of your hand on his arm, a brief glance between you two, felt like another reminder of the bond that had grown stronger between you and him.

“Thanks," Paul said again, forcing a smile as he noticed how the two of you seemed to exist in a world of your own, separate from the celebration.

It stung, but he pushed the feeling away.

Pepe caught his eye, giving him a quick nod, a silent acknowledgment of his victory. "Catch you later, then. Still need to debrief with the team in a bit," Pepe added before turning to walk off with you.

The two of you walked away, side by side, and for a moment, Paul couldn’t shake the feeling that the distance between them had grown too large for him to close.

The season finale in Abu Dhabi was electric, the energy palpable as the drivers celebrated their achievements. But Paul couldn't fully immerse himself in the chaos of it all. His eyes kept drifting to you.

Pepe had just crossed the line, winning the sprint race, and as the team gathered in parc fermé, you were the first to reach him. Paul stood back, watching as you rushed over, your face lighting up with excitement.

Without hesitation, you threw your arms around Pepe, pulling him into an embrace that felt effortless and natural.

The world around you both seemed to vanish in that moment, the noise of the crowd, the clamor of cameras, all muted by the closeness you shared.

The way you held him, the way his arms wrapped around you with such ease, felt so intimate, so real. Paul stood frozen, a lump forming in his throat.

It wasn’t just a congratulatory hug—it was something deeper, something unspoken.

The connection between you two was undeniable, and the ache in Paul’s chest grew with each second.

He looked away, but it didn’t help. He had a girlfriend, didn’t he? He wasn’t supposed to feel like this. And yet, the longing lingered, gnawing at him.

He tried to shake it off, focusing on the race, the celebrations, the team around him—but the hollow feeling inside him wouldn’t disappear.

As the crowd around you and Pepe swelled, he could still see you both, your laughter, your smiles, the way you fit together.

A part of him realized that he had missed his chance, that what he felt didn’t matter. But that didn’t stop the ache.

It was as if the season had ended, but a new kind of race had begun inside him, one he wasn’t sure he could win.