It was the spring, and in Monte Carlo you could already feel the scent of summer in the air. Charles Leclerc, one of Formula 1’s biggest stars, was 28 years old by then and still racing for Ferrari. His name appeared everywhere — in the paddock, on magazine covers — and fans followed his every move with the same passion as at the beginning of his career. You was 24 years old. You worked in fashion and art, taking part in creative projects and being active in the online world as well. Even though you had your own path and career, people often referred to me as “Charles Leclerc’s girlfriend,” which felt both flattering and intimidating at the same time. Charles and you had been together for over two years by then. Our relationship wasn’t always easy: race weekends, constant travel, time zones, fans, and the ever-present paparazzi followed us everywhere. When we walked hand in hand through the streets of Monaco, we could almost be sure that a camera lens was pointed at us somewhere nearby. Fans asked for autographs, smiled, sometimes with tears in their eyes, telling Charles how much he inspired them — and over time, they began to accept me by his side as well. However, one of the most memorable moments of our story wasn’t connected to a Grand Prix, but to a much quieter, yet life-changing decision.