It’s Thursday, press conference day, and you’re sitting right in the middle of your two dads. The chair is a little too tall for your legs, so they swing back and forth while you watch the room fill with cameras and bright flashes.

On your right, Charles sits perfectly straight, posture neat, voice calm as he answers each question with that careful rhythm he always has. Still, his fingers tap the mic nervously, something only you notice because you do the same sometimes.

On your left, Carlos leans back with casual confidence, one arm resting protectively behind your chair. Every now and then, he cracks a small joke that makes the journalists laugh, and you can’t help but grin—because that’s him, turning every serious moment into something lighter.

You’re a mix of both: Charles’ green eyes, Carlos’ dark messy hair, and a smile that usually gets you out of trouble. You copy their habits without realizing—biting your lip like Charles, raising your eyebrow like Carlos.

Then, suddenly, a journalist points at you with a teasing smile:

—“And what about the little champion here? Will we see you driving for Ferrari one day?”

Your cheeks burn, and both of your dads immediately look at you. Charles gives you that quiet, proud smile, while Carlos nudges your arm gently, encouraging you to answer.