Coffee, Books and Fandoms

The Red Bull garage isn’t cruel in the way they mistreat you or take advantage of you mercilessly, they just adjust their treatment to you with the equivalence of the measurement the treatment Max gives you. One time Max is stressed, there was a time you tried to comfort him, he lashed out at you. You looked around, and it’s like the garage transformed into Max’s mirror. The whole garage is stressed and every little move you do, even just pacing triggers massive responses to the whole crew.

But they’re not all bad.

There was this one time when Max was in a good mood, you can feel his joy as he narrates to you enthusiastically how the car is responding to him and going smoothly like it's some kind of miracle. And you can’t help but smile. He’s so cute. And wow wow, your chest bursts with this warm feeling. The whole garage radiates his positive energy and somehow it influences how the whole system treats you. They gave you a smile as you passed by. And when you nearly knocked over the coffee machine, and scared one intern and two engineers half to death, they shrugged it off, laughed, and turned into a funny anecdote of your cute clumsiness.

Maybe that’s just how things are. They function around the most important person in the room. Maybe you’re just overthinking. After all, you’ve been the only girl in Max’s life except for his sister. You were there for his first grand prix win, his first championship, every heartbreak, every loss, every win, and every celebration.

Maybe that’s just how things are when you have been together for so long. You kinda just expect for everything to follow through together.

Until your birthday.

Ah, that day. Whenever you remember it, you just sigh heavily and force your tear ducts to shut down, but no matter how you try, some of that liquid still seeps through.

You woke up on that day feeling a heavy weight on your chest. You feel as if this day will change something massive in your life. With the chirping of birds acting as if their alarm clocks, you stare at your ceiling until they stop.

Reaching for your phone in your night stand, you expect a message from your boyfriend or maybe some of your friends and family, but mostly your boyfriend.

There’s none. You called. He didn't answer. You called again. He still didn’t answer. You figured maybe he’s sleeping. You checked the time. It’s 12:30 pm. It’s noon. There’s no way he’s sleeping. How disappointing.

Oh, maybe it’s the time difference. Wait. There’s no time difference between Monaco and Denmark. So why is he not answering your call? No text? Most importantly, no happy birthday?

You tried to distract yourself. Maybe he didn’t message you because he’s planning a surprise? Maybe he flew out, after all it’s off season. You opened the messages of your families and friends as they greeted you happy birthday. Thankfully, your mood brightened a bit.

You remembered your past birthday celebrations with Max, he always surprises you at your apartment with a cake and tray of lasagna from your favorite restaurant. You welcome him through your door with the smell of brownies and cookies baking in your oven. You open the door, welcome him with open arms as he settles in your body burying his face on your neck, murmuring how much he missed you.

Kissing his face, you can’t help but smile as you remember how you love this guy so much and how lucky you are that with a million women in the world, he chose you.

He prepares the food on the table as you check on your baked treats. Max tinkers with your Netflix as he searches for movies you could watch later after eating your birthday dinner.

Your birthday is a day constantly consisting of: him bringing your favorites, baking, eating, drinking wine, watching movies, gifts, and cuddling until you fall asleep and carrying you, him sleeping beside you after kissing you goodnight.

Maybe that’s why he didn’t answer my call. He’s on the way to me.

You baked cookies and brownies while blasting upbeat Olivia Rodrigo songs to your speaker. The jumping and singing while whisking is a guaranteed activity that enables you to distract yourself from the doubts and fears that maybe Max forgot about you, maybe he didn’t care now, maybe he doesn’t love you anymore, and he’s found someone new. After all, he had a crappy season and it seems like he’s all over the place. You haven’t had much time together lately. Maybe -

Ding!

The ding from the oven snapped you out of your reverie. Oh the brownies and cookies are ready. You placed them on a rack to cool as you take a shower and get ready.

You put on your best dress, a wrap dress that caught your eye when you visited Max in Monaco last summer. You put on your make-up carefully and braided your hair.

You looked at the clock, it’s 7 pm now. Still no knock on the door. You tried calling him, but it all just got sent to voicemail. You checked your messages. Nothing.

You waited. You scroll through Tiktok to pass some time. Reply to acquaintances wishing you a happy birthday.

9 pm. Still nothing. You sighed heavily. Maybe there was a problem. Like airway traffic. Sounds ridiculous. You’ve grown hungry waiting, only to realize the wine and lasagna you’ve been craving are all Max adjacent. With your sour mood, you settled for ordering a take-out from McDonalds.

You eye the door, praying that whoever knocks on the door is Max and not the delivery guy.

10 pm. The knock on the door came. You lowered your expectations. You think, there is no way that’s him, look at the time. But maybe - No, it’s not him, the more you expect someone to come, the more they won’t be coming.

With a heavy heart and badly hidden hopeful expression, you opened the door.

It’s not him.

It’s the delivery guy. And somehow, despite all the scripts you made to yourself about not expecting anything. There’s still this tiny -, no massive hope occupying half your heart that it would be him. Your eyes can’t help but to well up with tears as you stare at the bag of your birthday dinner. The delivery guy grew concerned as he noticed the distraught expression into your face.

“Uh, ma’am are you alright?”, he said.

“No, no, I’m fine. Totally, just really hungry I guess, I mean, it’s so late already, and I haven’t had dinner yet?”, you answered while waving your two hands in front of him.

He stared at you quite unsure but let it go as he figured it was none of his business. You accepted the bag, closed the door, and slumped on the floor as suddenly now you can’t stop crying.

You wondered where it all went wrong. As you eat the fry inside the bag, your phone chimed, a notification, a message from Lando, maybe to wish you a happy birthday you figured.

But no. It was a picture of Max, with two girls beside him looking as if he was enjoying his life partying with Lando. The following message followed:

Shit, wrong send. You weren’t supposed to see that.

Well, I saw it now. Tell him thanks for my birthday gift. You replied.

Fuck. he sent.

Oh well, fuck me. You thought.

You stared at nothing for fifteen minutes. The sound of the surroundings came to you as if they were static. Your heart feels empty. You tried for your tears to fall. But there’s nothing left. You thought,

I’m not in his world now, am I?

Everything looks hollow all of a sudden.

You opened your phone and messaged him.

We're done.