POV: Amelie Sainz-Verstappen, age 15

It’s 8 a.m. on a Sunday, and my parents are being gross again.

Like clockwork.

I shuffle into the kitchen in my pajamas, clutching my cereal bowl like it’s the only sane thing in this house.

Papa’s at the stove, flipping something that might’ve once been a pancake but now looks more like a battlefield casualty.

Dad is hovering way too close behind him ... as usual ... whispering something in his ear that makes Papa laugh and swat him with the spatula.