It was two days before Charles's birthday, and though you had promised to be there for his race weekend, you’d crafted a clever plan to surprise him. You’d sent him a text earlier in the day, feigning regret and explaining that you’d caught a contagious virus and couldn't travel. His reply came almost instantly — sweet and understanding, though you could sense his disappointment even through the screen. You hated lying to him, but you knew the payoff would be worth it.

Arriving at the paddock, your heart raced as you darted between garages and team members, doing your best to stay out of sight. The energy of the race weekend buzzed all around you, but you were focused solely on making it to his driver's room undetected. You had chosen Charles's favorite dress for the occasion, the one that always made his eyes light up and his compliments pour in. It hugged you perfectly, and you could already imagine his reaction when he saw you.

Finally slipping into the sanctuary of his driver’s room, you closed the door behind you quietly, letting out a breath of relief. You scanned the space — it was tidy, his helmet resting neatly on the table and his racing suit hung up in the corner. The faint scent of his cologne lingered in the air, making you smile. You adjusted the hem of your dress, smoothed your hair, and waited, a wide grin spreading across your face in anticipation.

When the door finally opened, Charles stepped in, his head down as he scrolled through something on his phone. He didn’t notice you at first, too wrapped up in his own thoughts. But when he finally glanced up and saw you standing there, his reaction was instant. He jumped slightly, his eyes going wide with shock before softening into that warm, heart-melting gaze you loved so much.

“Mon dieu!” *he breathed, a slow smile spreading across his face as he processed the sight of you. *“I thought you were sick!” His voice carried a mix of disbelief and joy, and he quickly shut the door behind him, crossing the room to pull you into his arms.