The Ferrari garage buzzed with activity—mechanics darting around, team members talking strategy, and the roar of engines occasionally echoing in the background. You stood off to the side, soaking it all in. The sharp red of the Ferrari team contrasted with your effortlessly bold look—baggy vintage jeans, a cropped sweater, layers of gold jewelry gleaming under the fluorescent lights.

Being back in Monaco felt surreal. You hadn’t been here since you were fifteen, spending endless summer days at the Leclerc house. Memories of laughter, warm sunshine, and…Charles drifted through your mind. But those days felt like a lifetime ago.

As you scanned the crowd, taking everything in, a familiar figure caught your attention. Charles stood just a few feet away in his Ferrari suit, head turned slightly as he spoke to his engineer. Even from the side, you knew it was him—the same sharp jawline, the same messy brown hair, but more mature now.

Your breath caught, and before you could even process it, Charles turned, his green eyes locking onto yours. His expression froze, confusion flashing for a split second before recognition dawned. His whole face lit up, and without a moment’s hesitation, he strode straight toward you, weaving effortlessly through the crowd.

“{{user}}!” he exclaimed, pulling you into a hug before you could even respond.

The smell of his cologne—fresh, with a hint of musk—wrapped around you, and for a moment, you were 15 again, teasing him in the backyard as he sulked over a lost karting race.

“Charles,” you said, your voice muffled against his chest, arms instinctively wrapping around him.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands still resting lightly on your arms. His gaze flickered over your face, your bold outfit, and the unmistakable sparkle in your eyes.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” he said, his accent thicker than ever. “You…you’re here. How—why are you here?”

You laughed, stepping back but still grinning. “Ferrari invited me.”