Until my Last Breath

39

Paris, France

The silk glides effortlessly over my skin as I step in front of the mirror, letting my fingers trail over the fitted bodice of the dress. The deep red and crisp white blend perfectly-bold, striking, and unmistakably Prema. It's a quiet tribute to the team that shaped my season, to every triumph and challenge that brought me to this night.

I tilt my head, adjusting the delicate diamond earrings Marina insisted I wear. The glow of the vanity lights catches on the stones, adding just the right amount of sparkle without being overpowering. I've always loved dressing up, relished the ritual of transformation-the way a gown, the right shoes, and a touch of makeup could turn a moment into something cinematic.

Tonight is no exception.

The fabric hugs my waist before flowing down in soft, elegant folds, the slit running just high enough to be daring but not over the top. The heels-white, sleek, and perfectly balanced-add just the right amount of height. I run a hand down my thigh, smoothing out the fabric before moving to my vanity.

Makeup is next.

I sweep a warm bronzer across my cheekbones, adding just enough definition to sharpen my already poised expression. A touch of gold shimmer on my lids, mascara to make my lashes look endless, and finally, the finishing touch-a deep red lip. The shade is bold, confident, and effortless, much like the way I intend to carry myself tonight.

A soft knock on the door pulls me from my reflection.

"How's it coming?" Marina's voice drifts in.

"Almost done," I call back, reaching for the final detail-a bracelet, delicate yet meaningful, one of my mother's. A grounding piece of her with me on a night like this.

I clasp it around my wrist, taking one last look in the mirror. My hair, styled in effortless waves, cascades over my shoulders. My eyes gleam with something sharp, something knowing. The dress fits like it was made for me, like it was meant for this moment.

I look every bit the champion I am.

Exhaling slowly, I rise to my feet. "Alright," I murmur, straightening my shoulders.

***
The moment I step out of the car and onto the carpet, the flash of cameras ignites like fireworks. The Parisian night is cold, crisp, but I barely feel it-the heat of the spotlight, the rush of the moment, keeps me warm. My red and white gown flows effortlessly with each step, the fitted bodice holding me tall, reminding me exactly why I'm here.

This isn't just another event. It's the FIA Awards. The night where the season's best are honored, where names are immortalized in motorsport history. And this time, my name is one of them.

Marina walks beside me, a quiet presence in the chaos. She doesn't need to say much-her proud smile says everything.

Then I run into Charles.
"Very prema of you." He eyes my dress as I chuckle at his remark

"you look amazing riri." He compliments me a genuine smile resting on his lips.

"You clean up well too Leclerc."

"come they want to have some pictures with us together." he tugs at my hands as we pose for the cameras before making our way into the grand hall.

Inside, the room is filled with some of the biggest names in racing. Champions, legends, the next generation of greats. I nod politely, exchanging handshakes and quick congratulations, but my mind is already on the stage. On the moment that's coming.

The ceremony moves fast, award after award, name after name. And then, it's my turn.

Rita Bianchi Leon.