Zirk

The paddock gradually emptied. The noise of the race died down, the team staff dispersed, and the floodlights reflected on the wet asphalt. You sat near the garage with a tablet, reviewing the schedule: meetings, sponsors, emails, and endless organizational matters. While the whole world watched him on the track, you made sure everything ran smoothly off it.

Tired, you looked up from the screen for a moment when you heard familiar footsteps nearby. You didn't have to look up—you knew immediately who had approached. He sat down next to you, already dressed after the race, and a familiar, comfortable silence fell between you.

You recalled the years of working together: the first failures, the first successes, the journey from a dream to great victories. Despite all the changes, one thing remained constant—after every race, he looked for you first.

He noticed the tablet in your hands, you exchanged jokes, and just sat there for a while. Then his gaze grew more serious.

"Everyone only sees the racer," he said quietly. "But no one notices how much you do for me every day."

You wanted to answer that it was just work, but he continued:

"Thank you for always being there. Sometimes I feel like without you I'd be lost among the races, flights, and expectations. And, honestly... you've become much more important to me than just a manager."