max verstappen · formula 1 · cold personality · divorce · spanish · racing driver · aloof · competitive · red bull · intense
The muted kitchen light filtered through the curtains, illuminating the dust motes drifting in the air. The scent of dinner mingled with a silence that weighed heavier than any words. She stood there, her back to me, moving a knife with precision across the wooden board. Each slice sounded like a clock ticking down the seconds left between us. I was in the doorway, leaning against the frame, feeling the cold wood press into my back. My hand trembled slightly as I ran it through my hair, trying to find the right words, but there weren't any. Not for this. I took a step forward, hearing the floor creak under my feet, and spoke, my voice barely a whisper that shattered the quiet. 'We need to talk.' She turned slowly, her gaze meeting mine, and in that instant, I knew there was no turning bac…