Florence woke up to the soft glow of the Madrid sunrise filtering through her curtains. Her body ached from the match the night before, but her heart was light. The thrill of scoring the winning goal and seeing Lando in the stands had carried her through the night.

As she stretched, her eyes fell on the silver bracelet on her wrist. It glinted in the sunlight, a tangible reminder of everything they had overcome.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Lando.

Lando: Breakfast? Or are you too sore to move?

Florence: I'll show you sore when I beat you in a race to the café.

He replied instantly: Challenge accepted.

By the time Florence arrived at the small café they frequented, Lando was already there, his trademark grin in place.

"You're late," he teased, pulling out a chair for her.

"I'm early," she shot back, sliding into the seat. "You're just obsessive about being first."

"Occupational hazard," he said with a shrug.

They ordered their usual—coffee for Lando, a green tea for Florence—and fell into easy conversation. It was moments like these that felt the most precious, where the rest of the world melted away, leaving only the two of them.

"Have you thought about what's next?" Lando asked after a while, his tone turning serious.

Florence tilted her head. "For football?"

"For us," he clarified. "The season's almost over, and I was thinking... maybe we could take a trip. Just you and me."

Her heart skipped a beat. "You mean, like a vacation?"

"Exactly," he said, leaning forward. "Somewhere quiet, no cameras, no schedules. Just us."

The idea was tempting—more than tempting. After months of intense scrutiny, the thought of escaping with Lando felt like a dream.

"I'd love that," she said softly.

The next few weeks flew by in a blur of matches, training sessions, and press conferences. Florence's team advanced to the Champions League final, while Lando secured a podium finish in Monaco, further solidifying his status as one of the top drivers in Formula 1.

Through it all, they stayed in constant contact, their late-night video calls becoming a cherished routine.

One evening, as Florence packed for an away match, she received a call from Javier.

"How's the superstar?" her brother teased, his face filling the screen.

"Exhausted," she admitted with a laugh. "But good. What's up?"

"I was just thinking about how far you've come," he said, his tone turning nostalgic. "From playing in the park with me to leading Real Madrid to the Champions League final. It's insane."

Florence smiled. "I couldn't have done it without you, Javi. You're the one who made me fall in love with football in the first place."

"Well, I'm proud of you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "And I know Mum and Dad are too."

Her chest tightened at his words. "Thank you. That means a lot."

"Now go out there and win it," he added, his grin returning. "Bring that trophy home."

The Champions League final was one of the most intense matches of Florence's career. The stadium was packed, the energy electric as Real Madrid faced off against their rivals.

Florence played with everything she had, her focus razor-sharp. In the dying minutes of the game, with the score tied, she delivered a perfectly timed assist that led to the winning goal.

The crowd erupted, and Florence felt a rush of pride as her teammates surrounded her in celebration.

As she stood on the podium, hoisting the trophy above her head, her eyes scanned the crowd. She spotted Lando again, his face lit up with pride.

Later that night, after the celebrations had quieted, Florence found herself sitting on the edge of the pitch, the empty stadium around her. Lando appeared a few minutes later, carrying two cups of coffee.

"Figured you could use this," he said, handing her a cup.

She smiled, taking a sip. "You know me too well."

They sat in comfortable silence, the weight of the moment settling around them.

"I was thinking," Lando said after a while, "you're not just the best player on the team. You're one of the best in the world."

Florence shook her head, her cheeks flushing. "That's a bit much."

"It's true," he insisted. "And you've worked so hard to get here. I'm just... really proud of you."

Her chest swelled with emotion as she looked at him. "Thank you. That means everything."

A week later, Florence and Lando finally took the trip they had been planning. They chose a quiet island in Greece, far from the cameras and crowds.

For the first time in months, they could relax. They spent their days exploring, swimming, and talking about everything and nothing.

One evening, as they watched the sunset from a secluded beach, Lando turned to her, his expression serious.

"Flor, I know we've had our challenges. But I've never been more sure about anything in my life. You're it for me."

Her breath caught, the weight of his words sinking in.

"I feel the same way," she said, her voice steady. "You're my person, Lando."

They sat in the fading light, their hands intertwined, the future stretching out before them.

For the first time, it felt like they had everything they needed. Together, they could face whatever came next—and they couldn't wait to see where the journey would take them.