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The high-tech silent disco was buzzing under the dazzling lights, with everyone wearing headphones as they danced their hearts out.
Verstappen looked at his wife beside him, who was already showing a slight baby bump. Bending down to kiss the back of George’s hand, his voice rasped with an indescribable rush of excitement, “Georgie, are you ready?”
He held a white envelope in his hand—inside was the baby’s gender reveal, something they had exercised extreme restraint not to look at over the past few days.
They wanted to share this joy far and wide.
“Ladies and gentlemen! Please bring your attention to the overhead lights~ We have a truly exciting moment for everyone to witness tonight—it’s time for the Gender Reveal!”
“Please join me in giving a warm round of applause to Max Verstappen and his wife, George Russell!”
Surrounded by the crowd's enthusiastic cheers and applause, the couple took the stage hand in hand.
“Thank you all so much for taking time out of your busy schedules to join our gender reveal party,” George said, gently caressing his baby bump. “To be honest, holding this in for the past few days has nearly driven us crazy.”
“Inside this envelope is the real gender of our baby,” Verstappen said, holding up the slightly crumpled white envelope to show the crowd. “No one has opened it yet.”
George handed the envelope over to Albon, who was standing nearby. Albon turned his back to the crowd and opened it with the utmost care.
When he caught sight of the gender, Albon’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. He knew that once Verstappen found out, he would probably turn into a car right then and there, singing “dudududu” to celebrate.
He cleared his throat softly, “Are you two ready?”
“We’re ready.”
Max's inner monologue: Please, please, I really want a daughter!
George's inner monologue: As long as the baby is healthy, the gender doesn't matter.
The couple slowly closed their eyes. First, they heard the soft jingle of a bell, followed by a familiar meow.
“Alright, you can open your eyes now.”
There sat Jimmy with a small bell hanging around his neck. Verstappen squatted down and scooped Jimmy up into his arms, while the dimmed stage lights switched back to a warm white so they could clearly see the color of the bell.
The moment he saw the gender, Verstappen’s eyes widened slightly, unable to contain his excitement. George turned to look at his husband, his expression gentle with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “Congratulations, you got your wish.”
Someone in the crowd blew a loud whistle, instantly followed by deafening applause and heartfelt congratulations.
With their hands intertwined, the couple looked into each other's eyes, filled with the hopeful anticipation of new parents, deep love for one another and their daughter, and a trace of heartache in Verstappen’s gaze.
He couldn't physically experience the pregnancy himself, but seeing his wife's haggard complexion, hearing his tired words, and watching his restless, sleepless nights, he understood all too well what he was going through.
“Georgie…” he looked at him, his voice trembling slightly—not from excitement, but from aching sympathy.
“It’s alright. The baby isn't making a fuss.”
Verstappen murmured softly, “Baby, be good.”
“Because Daddy loves Mommy, the baby was willing to come and join our family,” George took Verstappen’s hand, his tone light and playful. “Right, little one?”
A gentle flutter stirred inside the bump.
“See? The baby agrees with me.”