109: The Abu Dhabi title fight

Saturday, quali time.

Maeve's point of view

The thoughts have been growing with the hours, so it's time to rip off the band-aid.

I have been puking for this entire morning --> morning sickness. Fatigue --> body working overtime.  Sore boobs --> creating milk. Cramping and peeing --> because of the child in my stomach.

'So what if you are?', Sienna is eating a granola bar, that looks amazing.

'I don't know, Sienna', I sigh. 'I mean, Max and I just got together and I don't think we are ready for a child relationship and career-wise'.

I look over at her granola bar, I'm fucking drooling for it.

'Maeve, it'll be okay. Whatever you do we are here for you', she hands me the granola bar and I smile in disbelief. 'Here, predator'.

'We'll even drive you to the clinic in case you don't want to keep it', Luciana smiles.

'Thank you girls', I stand up and grab my cup. 'Be right back'.

The test is out of the cup and we're waiting. We have been waiting. I don't want to wait anymore.

'Isn't this fucking nerve wrecking', I hiss.

'You do have the pregnancy symptoms, cranky bitch', Sienna laughs.

The timer goes and Luciana nods. 'Take a moment for yourself', she smiles and tries to leave the room.

'No fucking way, I'm staying. I'm in deep', Sienna points out.

I flip over the test.

'Oh fuck', I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

'What?', Luci asks.

'Fuck, Fuck, Fuck', I smile.

'Is this good or bad?', Sienna asks Luci, who pushes her elbow into Sienna's side.

'Guys, I'm-', A smile forms at my mouth. 'Not pregnant'.

Luciana and Sienna also take a deep breath.

'Well thank god, Jesus', Luciana pants.

They walk towards me and we embrace each other in a hug.

Emotions fill my head. 'Fuck, is it wrong that a little part of me wanted that test to say positive?', I cry.

'No, baby. Of course not, but that does mean that you are sure things are right between you and Max. I'm so proud of you Maeve, but to be honest, let's be happy that you aren't pregnant because you should not be racing in those conditions', Luciana brushes a hand through my hair.

'You're right, thank you for being here for me guys', I thank them both.

'We always will be', Sienna smiles. 'Now go and get ready for quali'.

(if you are wondering why such a weird topic would come up and then get knocked down, all I can say is, stay tuned)

Qualifying

Qualifying day is here, and everything feels more intense, more vivid than any other weekend. I can feel my heart pounding as I step into the paddock, the sound of engines, the smell of fuel, and the murmurs of fans mixing into a heady rush that only heightens my focus. Today, every fraction of a second counts.

I'm glad I did the test this morning, I'd rather not have to think about anything else right now other than securing pole. Max and I are tied in the championship, 162 points each. Knowing that adds a razor-sharp edge to every corner, every straight, every bit of rubber I lay down on this track.

I make my way to the garage, nodding to my engineer, Owen, who greets me with a warm smile, his expression reassuring and calm.

'Ready to fight for that pole today?', he asks

'More than ready', I reply, slipping into my suit and feeling the weight of my goal settle on my shoulders. 'I'm here to win.'

Q1

As I roll out onto the track, I take a deep breath, adjusting to the car as I start my first laps. Q1 is always the warm-up for me, a way to get the tires ready, to familiarize myself with the corners, the grip, and the tiniest shifts in the track surface since practice yesterday. I push through the laps, not maxing out, but enough to secure a solid time. I stay calm, knowing that I need to reserve my energy for the later sessions.

The first lap feels smooth, my lines clean. I push through Turn 1, letting the rhythm settle in.

RADIO: Looking good, Maeve. P1 right now.

MAE: Copy that, Owen.

I feel the relief of a strong start wash over me. I hold the pace, not going too hard but keeping enough speed to set a competitive time without overexerting the tires. It's not about being the fastest right now, it's about securing a safe place in Q2.

By the end of Q1, I'm at the top of the timesheets, but Max is close behind. He always is. We both know that today isn't just about qualifying, it's a statement.

Q2

As Q2 begins, I can feel the pressure ramping up. This is where the real contenders start to show, and Max is only getting faster. I grip the wheel tightly, pushing harder as I go through each turn, testing the limits but still holding back slightly. I know I'll need every ounce of energy for Q3.

Coming out of Turn 7, I can feel the rear grip slipping slightly, but I catch it, keeping my speed steady. The adrenaline spikes, but I shake it off, breathing deeply to calm my pulse. This is where everything becomes instinct, every movement, every adjustment to the throttle, the tiniest shifts in braking—all honed through years of practice.

RADIO: Maeve, currently P2, Max just went P1 by two-hundredths of a second.

MAE: Understood, Owen.

Two hundredths. That's nothing, but it's enough to remind me that I need to push harder. Max and I have been neck-and-neck all season and it all boils down to these final moments. He's not holding back, and neither will I.

I push through my second flying lap in Q2, squeezing every ounce of grip from the tires, my heart racing as I round the final corner. The lap is faster, and as I cross the line, Owen's voice comes back on.

RADIO: YES Maeve! P1 again! You got this, girl.

MAE: I love you so much. We can do this.

I smile, breathing a sigh of relief. Q2 ends with me at the top, but Max is right there, breathing down my neck. I know he'll push as hard as he can in Q3, and I need to be ready.

Q3

This is it. Q3. The session that decides it all. As I roll out of the pit lane, I feel every nerve firing, every muscle primed and ready. The lights glint off the track as the sun dips lower, casting long shadows across the surface. It's beautiful in its own way, but I don't let myself get distracted. Focus, Maeve. This is yours to take.

I push hard on my first lap, taking each corner with precision, each straight with maximum throttle. Coming out of Turn 4, I can feel the car responding perfectly beneath me, the tires gripping just right. It's a strong lap, and as I cross the line.

RADIO: P1, Maeve!! Strong time! You. Can. Do. This.

But I know Max is still out there, pushing just as hard, maybe harder. I can't let up. The margin is razor-thin, and I know one mistake could mean the difference between starting at the front or chasing him down from behind.

I go out for a final flying lap. I've barely got enough time, but I push, feeling the car surge forward as I exit Turn 1. The car feels incredible, every ounce of power flowing through my fingers as I grip the wheel. I take Turn 6 with barely a lift, pushing through the straight, knowing I need every bit of speed to hold this position.

Coming up on the final sector, I know I'm ahead by a fraction, but I can feel the pressure. Every corner needs to be flawless. I take the final turn, pushing out onto the straight and crossing the line.

RADIO: Max crossing the line... now...

MAE: Come on, tell me

RADIO: And Maeve... THAT IS P1, MAEVE! YOU DID IT!! POLE POSITION FOR THE ABU DHABI TITLE FIGHT!

I can barely breathe as the realization sinks in. Pole. I did it.

MAE: YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEES!!!!!!!!!!!

The crowd chants as I drive by.

Pole position.