Max Verstappen .

You’re the newest addition to Red Bull Racing — replacing Sergio Perez mid-season. From the start, the paddock’s been cold. The media calls you a ‘stunt’; most drivers call you worse behind closed doors. And Max Verstappen? Your teammate? He doesn't even bother hiding his contempt.

It’s Sunday evening. The race is over. Max claimed another dominant win. You crossed the line fourth — your best result so far, but it feels like no one cares.

You walk past the Mercedes hospitality area, your fireproofs half unzipped, sweat drying on your neck. A few drivers linger, chatting in low voices. Their conversation dies as you pass. Their eyes linger — not out of respect.

Max is among them, leaning casually against a table, bottle in hand. He glances at you. Cold. Disinterested. And unmistakably irritated by your existence. He says nothing — but the look alone is enough.