Summary: They first time they enter the paddock as an engaged couple, Max and Yn get swarmed by paparazzi, journalists and fans.
The kitchen smelled like garlic and olive oil, the quiet kind of evening hum filling the space between them. Yn stood barefoot on the cool tiles, wooden spoon in hand, stirring the pan while Max leaned against the counter behind her, arms loosely wrapped around her waist.
“You’re going to burn it,” he said, voice low, amused, chin resting on her shoulder.
“I am not,” she replied, nudging him back with her hip. “You’re distracting me.”
“That’s my job.”
She laughed softly, tilting her head back to look at him. His hair was messy, hoodie sleeves pushed up, the picture of someone who had no intention of leaving the house for the rest of the night. This—quiet, warm, normal—was everything she loved.
“Can you grab the salt?” she asked.
Max reached for it, then paused. She felt him still behind her.
“Max?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he turned her gently, hands warm and steady on her arms. His expression wasn’t nervous exactly—more focused, thoughtful.
“What?” she asked, smiling. “Did I mess it up?”
“No,” he said. “I just… wait.”
He stepped away, disappearing into the living room. Yn frowned, confused, then laughed to herself and went back to stirring.
When he came back, he wasn’t holding the salt.
He was holding a small box.
She stared at it, brain lagging behind reality. “What’s that?”
Max swallowed. “I was going to do this later. Or… maybe some other way. But this feels right.”
Her heart started pounding.
“Yn,” he said, voice soft, completely unguarded. “We’ve been doing life together for a long time now. The good stuff, the hard stuff. You’re my calm. You’re my home.” He took a breath. “I don’t need fireworks or cameras or anything loud. I just need you.”
He opened the box.
The ring was simple. Elegant. So them it almost hurt.
She covered her mouth with her hand, tears already forming. “Max…”
“Will you marry me?” he asked quietly. “Right here. Like this.”
She didn’t hesitate. Didn’t think. Didn’t need to.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, of course.”
He smiled—wide, real, boyish—and slipped the ring onto her finger. Then she was in his arms, laughing and crying at the same time, his face buried in her hair.
“Dinner’s burning,” she muffled into his hoodie.
“Worth it,” he said, kissing the top of her head.
It was perfect.
And private.
Until it wasn’t.
The next morning, they stepped out together, sunglasses on, hand in hand, planning nothing more dramatic than groceries and coffee.
They didn’t even notice the photographer at first.
It was the flash that gave it away. Then another. And another.
Max felt Yn’s grip tighten.
“Max…” she murmured.
He turned instinctively, body angling toward her. And that’s when he saw it—the lenses, the zoom, the sudden frantic energy.
And then one of them spotted the ring.
“Hey! Is that—”
“Max! Engagement ring?”
“Yn! Can we see your hand?”
She froze, instinctively pulling her hand back. Max swore under his breath, already guiding her forward.
“Keep walking,” he said calmly, though his jaw was tight. “Don’t look.”
They didn’t answer anything. Didn’t stop. But by the time they got into the car, Max knew—it was out.
By the time they got home, it was everywhere.
Now, standing at the edge of the paddock days later, Yn could feel it.
The noise.
The eyes.
The energy was different today—sharper, louder, almost electric. Cameras swung toward them the second they appeared, fans shouting her name alongside his.
“Max! Congratulations!”
“Yn! Over here!”
“When did you propose?”
“Show us the ring!”
She smiled, small and shy, lifting her hand just enough to give a gentle wave. The ring caught the light anyway.
The crowd went feral.
Max immediately stepped closer, hand firm at her lower back.
“Eyes forward,” he murmured. “You’re doing great.”
“I’m okay,” she said, though her cheeks were warm. “It’s just… a lot.”
“I know.”
Reporters walked backward in front of them, shouting questions over each other.
“Was it romantic?”
“Are you planning a wedding soon?”
“Will she be traveling full-time now?”
Max ignored them all. His focus was entirely on getting her through the sea of people without anyone bumping into her.
“Please give them space,” a team member called out, but the cameras kept pushing.
Yn waved again, smiling politely, even as she leaned closer to Max. “I feel like a zoo animal.”
“You’re not,” he said immediately. “And this won’t last.”
When they finally reached the garage entrance, the noise dulled slightly. The mechanics tried to form a loose barrier, but lenses still poked through every gap.
“Max!” someone called from inside. “We need you for a minute.”
He hesitated, looking down at Yn. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll stay here,” she said. “Go.”
He didn’t like it, but he nodded. “Don’t move. I’ll be two minutes.”
The second he stepped away, the cameras surged again.
“Yn! How does it feel to be engaged?”
“Can we get a smile?”
“Mrs Verstappen!”
She flinched at that, though she kept her composure.
“I’m not answering questions,” she said gently. “But thank you.”
A mechanic stepped in front of her, trying to block the view, but the photographers just shifted angles.
She crossed her arms lightly, suddenly very aware of her hands, her face, the ring. She loved it. Loved him. She just hadn’t expected this intensity.
Then Max turned back.
And saw red.
He took in the scene in half a second—the cameras inches from her face, the way she stood small, polite, overwhelmed.
He didn’t say anything.
He just walked straight to her and placed himself fully in front of her, back to her, broad shoulders blocking every lens.
“That’s enough,” he said, voice cold. “Back off.”
The noise faltered.
Yn looked up at him, surprised. “Max—”
He turned slightly, hands coming up to cradle her face, thumbs brushing her cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly, just for her. “I should’ve taken you somewhere else.”
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “I just wasn’t ready.”
“I know.” His forehead rested against hers. “You don’t ever have to be.”
He kissed her then—not for the cameras, not for anyone else. Slow. Protective. Real.
When he pulled back, he spoke low, steady. “I promise you, I will protect you. Your space. Your privacy. Always.”
Her eyes softened. “I know you will.”
“I’m going to get you somewhere calmer,” he said. “Somewhere safe. Yeah?”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
He kissed her again, shorter this time, then wrapped an arm firmly around her shoulders and guided her away, ignoring the renewed shouting entirely.
Behind them, the cameras clicked like mad.
But for Yn, all she felt was Max’s hand in hers, solid and warm, leading her forward.
And for the first time since the news broke, she smiled—truly smiled—because whatever came next, she wasn’t facing it alone.
