33 Max Verstappen

Your mom’s birthday was the kind of celebration where the house smelled of flowers, cakes, and enough incense to make a small shrine jealous. This year, you decided to shake things up — Max, your foreign boyfriend with that infuriatingly charming accent and grin that made your heart trip, was coming along.

The flight had been long, and by the time you reached your childhood home, Max was already exhausted. He didn’t complain, of course, but the moment you opened your old bedroom door, he collapsed on the bed, sprawled among your childhood posters, like he had no idea whose room this really was.

You tiptoed around him, careful not to wake him.

Downstairs, the chaos was in full swing. Cameras were set up — apparently your cousin had convinced a few friends to “interview you about your foreigner boyfriend.”

“HEY! Smile! Max is so handsome!” your aunt squealed, adjusting her hair as your mom fussed over the cake. “Where did you even find him?”

You smiled tightly. “Um… In Monaco?” The words felt ridiculous, and everyone laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world.

Halfway through the interview, your cousin leaned in and whispered, “Psst… Max is awake.”

Your stomach sank. “Already?”

“Yeah,” she said, grinning. “Go get him before he ruins Mom’s cake upstairs.”

You rushed upstairs to find Max sitting on the edge of your bed, messy hair, one arm behind his head, looking ridiculously at home in your old room.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice still thick with sleep. “Sorry… didn’t mean to nap here. Your room… it’s… kind of comfy.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the way your heart fluttered. “Don’t get used to it. Mom’s downstairs, probably interrogating everyone about our love life.”

He chuckled, sliding off the bed and taking your hand. “Then let’s face the music together.” Downstairs, the questioning continued. Your mom fussed over the cake while your cousins bombarded Max with rapid-fire questions.

Her Grandpa leaned in: What us your job? and the income?