Memories |OP|

She was born into Formula 1 long before she ever touched a steering wheel.
Klara Wolff, daughter of Toto Wolff - the man who built Mercedes into a powerhouse and raised his child in the heart of the paddock.

She grew up on pit walls and in motorhomes, chasing engines instead of friends on the playground.

By the time she reached karting, she was already a prodigy.
Fast. Focused. Untouchable on her best days.
And by the time she reached F2, she felt unstoppable - the kind of driver who didn't just win races, but owned them.

But she didn't rise alone.

Right beside her, from the very first kart, was Oscar Piastri.
Childhood friend.
Rival.
The boy who pushed her, matched her, challenged her until there was no version of her future that didn't include him.
Two parallel paths, destined - everyone said - to reach Formula 1 together.

Until the crash.
One moment destroyed the season, the momentum, the version of herself she'd spent her whole life building.
The injury healed, but she didn't.
So she walked away - from racing, from the paddock, from the boy who kept climbing when she didn't.

A year later, she's back.
Not as a driver, but as the daughter of a team principal traveling with Mercedes for the year.
Older. Quieter. Still carrying the weight of every lap she never finished.

What she wasn't ready for was Oscar.

No longer the boy she grew up with, but a full-fledged Formula 1 star - sharper, cooler, but with the same eyes that once only looked at her.
He sees her before she sees him.
He doesn't look away.

The paddock remembers her.
Oscar remembers her.
And the past she tried to bury?

It comes back the moment she steps onto the grid.

Because some dreams don't die.
Some memories don't fade.
And some people... you never really leave behind.