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Epilogue

Darien

S hantal’s right. I’m pretty great. Maybe it’s easy to love me, but it’s easier to love her. Even easier to finally propose to her, two years later.

Shanni and I become the Magalh?es-Mangals when I marry her twice. First, in a traditional ceremony at the Sri Mariamman Temple in Singapore. Second, in my backyard in Santa Teresa, where Miguel de la Fuente pronounces us husband and wife. The whole affair lasts five days. The backyard catering is immaculate. We order cheese pizza, no hidden vegetables.

Shanni works a kick-ass job at the very top of the pyramid, at Heidelberg, of course. We have a happy family with two kids, both as awesome as she is. Our oldest keeps asking when he can drive (he is only three). The two of us look at each other with that indulgent look parents have when their child does something far too mature for his age, and then we look back at him, and decide we will probably have to put him in karting in due course.

I finally have that WDC title, and it happens again in 2028. It’s a long wait between titles, though it is completely and utterly worth it. All three of the loves of my life get to see it this time. I hold my children in my arms and kiss my wife up on the podium once everyone has gone from the audience.

A lot of stuff has changed. Perhaps we are not old and tired, but we have definitely grown up.

Something that has still not changed a bit is that I am eternally proud of Shantal. I think of her when we are inches away from each other. I think of her when I am racing halfway across the world from her. I think of her all my life. All our lives.

Shanni names our son Nico.

I name our daughter Sonia.