As the race concluded, Dominik drove the Carlin car on the cool-down lap, running alongside Zhou Guanyu's car. The two cars moved in parallel, completing a parade lap—these were the most relaxing few minutes of the entire season.
For drivers near the top of the standings, once the first seven races were over, they had to think about driving styles, analyze rivals' weaknesses, and even negotiate with F1 team principals for a future seat.
Zhou Guanyu, for example, had already secured a seat with the Alfa Romeo team for the 2022 season, where he would partner veteran Valtteri Bottas.
But in these final moments after the last race, none of that mattered. They could simply enjoy the cheers of the fans.
Soon, a long winter off-season would begin, stretching across several months. Dominik and Zhou had already agreed to travel together for a short holiday before returning to their respective homes—Dominik back to Hungary, Zhou to China.
Although his overall performance hadn't been dazzling, Dominik was still in a good mood. He even hummed softly as he parked the car back in the pit lane.
After all, he would be returning to F2 for another year. What was there to fear? Still, with Zhou moving up to F1, things would change. Simulator sessions, travel, and the everyday rhythm of the paddock would no longer feel the same.
In parc fermé, Dominik patted Piastri on the shoulder to congratulate him, and Piastri smiled back.
"Tsk… everyone's going to F1, leaving me to dominate F2 for another year," Dominik muttered inwardly as he walked away.
"Ah!!!!!!"
The sudden shout startled him. He turned around to see Zhou grinning mischievously. Dominik immediately played along.
He pretended to wipe away tears. "You're leaving me next year… don't you want me anymore? Boo hoo."
Zhou shuddered exaggeratedly.
They agreed to meet again in two days, then parted ways—Zhou heading toward the waiting room for the podium ceremony, Dominik returning to the Carlin garage.
On the way back, Dominik raised his head and waved to the fans. His gaze suddenly froze when he noticed a red-white-green Hungarian flag fluttering in the grandstands.
He stopped, then slowly formed a heart shape with his hands.
The flag rippled even more fiercely.
Perhaps this was what national identity felt like for someone far from home.
Back in the Carlin garage, the technicians gathered around him. Trevor Carlin also came over to congratulate him. They all knew that finishing fourth overall in his rookie F2 season, at just nineteen, meant Dominik had a real chance of leading the team to championship contention in the coming years.
Dominik returned to the lounge, scooped ice into a cup, and pressed it into his palms. The cold eased the pain—only he knew how brutal the final laps had been.
The car wouldn't brake cleanly on entry. On exit, it fishtailed violently. The steering wheel fought back, tearing at his grip, forcing him to counter-steer and delay the apex just to keep things stable.
As coffee poured into the ice, his heartbeat gradually settled.
"It's time," Carlin said with a smile.
The award ceremony and press conference awaited. Dominik hated press conferences, but there was no avoiding them.
He walked beside Carlin, head lowered.
"What about Payton?" Carlin suddenly asked.
Dominik looked up, startled. "Payton? What about him?"
"Didn't he tell you? He's retiring from international formula racing after this season. Might head to IndyCar as a technical director."
Silence followed.
Payton had been with Dominik since his early days in British junior racing. Without him, the paddock suddenly felt unfamiliar.
The press conference passed in a blur. It wasn't until a reporter asked, "Your friend Zhou Guanyu and is entering F1—how do you feel about that?" that Dominik snapped back to reality.
Payton. Zhou.
Two of the people who had grown alongside him were leaving.
"I'm very happy for Zhou," Dominik replied after a pause. "Partnering with an experienced driver like Bottas is a great opportunity. I believe he'll prove himself."
The reporters, finding no drama, turned their attention to Carlin.
When the press conference finally ended, Dominik left without hesitation.
The award ceremony concluded, officially marking the end of the 2021 F2 season. Once the F1 race finished that evening, the year would truly be over.
With some time before the F1 start, Dominik headed out. He sampled local food, drove through the city, snapped a few landscape photos, added a shameless selfie, and posted them online to celebrate his P4 finish—tagging both Carlin and Williams.
By the time he returned to Yas Marina, the sun had already set. His parents were back in Hungary managing their business, leaving him wandering the paddock alone.
Someone tapped his right shoulder.
He turned—nothing.
Then he turned again and saw Zhou grinning.
"You vanished for two hours," Zhou said. "Don't you want me anymore?"
Dominik grimaced. Karma had arrived quickly.
They walked together down the pit lane. F1 teams were busy finalizing strategies. Near the Alfa Romeo garage, Zhou stopped, explaining he was going inside to watch the race.
After saying goodbye, Dominik knew their paths would inevitably diverge.
He continued forward—until a plump blond man suddenly blocked his way.
It was Jost Capito.
Without a word, Jost pulled him toward the Williams garage.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the 2021 Abu Dhabi Grand Prix was about to begin.
And Piastri, Zhou Guanyu, Dominik, Schwartzman—and even his close friend Liam Lawson, watching from another garage—were all scattered across the paddock, witnessing the end of one season and the quiet beginning of another.