FIA Award Night is something everyone has been waiting for. The air in Paris is cold but way kinder than London's sharp bite but makes me shiver anyway. Oscar steps out of the car first, smooth as ever like stepping onto a stage he's already memorized, then extend a hand to grab mine without looking back. I put my hand in his, follow his exact step to avoid tripping over the carpet and immediately hear my name shouted in different directions.

A reporter leans forward with a microphone, grin already loaded and starts with a simple question, "Lando, how do you feel tonight?"

I don't even hesitate. "I am Oscar's WAG for the night, expect the part where I am not his girlfriend or wife so I guess I negotiated badly."

Oscar turns over to the camera, expression perfectly composed. "He negotiated terrible terms so no appearance fee for him."

Laughter warms up the atmosphere and flashes go off like fireworks. Someone asks if we coordinated outfits, others want to know who picked the tie. I glance down dramatically at my suit.

"Oscar insisted on matching levels of elegance. I tried to dress him better."

"I already look good in whatever."

"Behave, boys". George appears out of nowhere, walking past us with the kind of tired amusement that comes from watching the same chaos repeat itself for the thousandth times in years. He claps on Oscar's shoulder lightly before drifting toward Kimi on the other side of carpet. Doesn't really help because all we get back is even more laughs from reporters.

"Are we expecting a speech from your WAG, Oscar?"

"Absolutely not", Oscar immediately answers the question and I fake a loud grasp to show how rude it is.

We finally manage to escape the red carpet and head straight to the entrance. The noise of media duties softens behind us as security ushers the next group of driver forward. Just before we step in the ballroom, Oscar brushes his thumb over my lips. The movement is small enough but knocks the air out of lungs anyway. I almost got lost in that soft look in his eyes, the side of softness that Oscar Piastri never shows in front of camera.

Each team is seated on one big table, ours is the closest to the stage, considering the fact that we might need to go up there quite often. Zak already looks proud in a way he's pretending not to be, champagne glass already in hand, smiling widely that I'm afraid his face might hurt. Meanwhile, Andrea is scanning the room as if he could eavesdrop some potential drama before it even starts. Which, knowing this sport, is a completely wise and reasonable survival strategy. No wonder why he's our team principal.

The light dims out and a giant screen in front of us flickers to life. "2026 Season Review", the title recalls some memories in me even though the last race was only 3 weeks ago. Watching it back feels like stepping into another lifetime where I get to stand on the side and observe it all. For the entire length of that video, I'm back in the cockpit, hands tight on the wheel, engine vibrating through my ribs, radio crackling in my ears.

And when Singapore is up, Oscar leans slightly closer and whispers a small thank you. His words almost inaudible beneath the sound of the crowd watching the replay. I still keep my eyes ahead, watching the orange car that carried him to the finish line, to his first world championship.

"Thanks for trusting me, Osc". That's the truth of it. Without that, none of it would have worked out the way it did.

When the lights rise again, the announcer's voice carries through the room, calling up our name. Time for Constructors' Champion.

The rest of senior engineers join Zak and Andrea on the stage. A few mechanics too. All faces I've seen at four in the morning in garages smelled like rubber and caffein combined - definitely not a pleasant smell. Me and Oscar are the last one to walk up to stage, splitting to opposite sides of the group.

Zak keeps it short and simple like he always does. "Winning once is special but winning repeatedly means you built something that last. And that's why we prefer winning properly."

If listening closely, one would probably feel stinged after what Zak just said. But I am honestly too tired after such a crazy season that I just nod, smile and pretend like I can't smell a threat underneath. It can be dealt later, or can even wait until next season.

Andrea holds the cup tightly in his arms while we all take two steps back, leaving space for Oscar. His name is called out, widely spread all through the room. "Oscar Piastri – 2026 Formula One World Driver's Champion."

Oscar takes a beat to readjust his collar then holds on tightly to the cup. He rests the trophy against the podium first, the light reflecting off polished silver onto his face. Oscar taps on the microphone and start his speech.

"Wow, this event has way more people attending than I thought it would. Don't mind me, still get nervous standing in front of such an important crowd but from the bottom of my heart, thank you all for being here. And thanks to all the fans who are watching this from wherever you are.

When you start racing as a kid, you don't imagine standing in a room like this. You imagine winning in your tiny go-kart when your family giving up weekends so you can chase something bigger than yourself. They have made a lot of sacrifices so I can lay my hands on this prestigious championship.

This season is everything I can ever be dreamt of. It was long, demanding and overwhelming at times but also felt earned.

I would like to say thanks to my team, McLaren. Not just for building an incredible car, though that obviously helped us a lot. There were moments when performance was not the only thing that mattered and I will never forget how this team backed us up during those moments. The mechanics, engineers, strategist and everyone back in Woking who worked endless hours but none being seen, this trophy belongs to you just as much as it belongs to me. Thank you all for trusting me with something that represents years of your lives.

To the guys I race every weekend with – even the ones who pretend they don't like me – this sport is better because of you. Formula One is competitive, ruthless and selfish but racing against you is such a privilege. This year reminds me that competition does not cancel humanity. I am proud to share the track with people who understand that.

To my dearest rival, Lando Norris, somewhere along the way, you became more than that. I cannot win a championship without trust and Lando never goes on a day without putting faith in me, telling me how capable I am even when I don't feel like it. He has been steady when things were loud, he has been brave when it would have been easier not to be. I would not be standing here without Lando's support. I love you."