𝘽𝙄𝙏𝙏𝙀𝙍, max verstappen

chapter twenty-six.

a/n: if u guys are silent readers and don't spam comment i'm gonna kill off camila and never write again 😊

rage. that's all camila felt now.

if mercedes hadn't already managed to piss her off, they'd definitely done it now. betrayal became something all too familiar now, and mending bridges between the team was something camila deemed impossible, especially now that they had broken her trust again.

george would replace her next year. camila was certain of it. no matter how well she'd perform, even if she won the championship, the team no longer cared anymore. it was obvious.

and over the next few weeks leading up to qatar, camila desperately tried to grasp that. but it was impossible to accept. it was impossible to accept that what was once a family to her were now complete strangers.

what team could possibly want her now? it was too late. after this year, camila would become nothing. but instead of sadness over the fact, camila was just angry.

and she couldn't help but wonder if all of this wouldn't have happened if it weren't for what she did with max. if she never made that mistake, how different would things be?

camila still ignored her messages. no matter how many she would receive, she'd shut every single one of them out. camila also kept smoking. she knew she shouldn't be, but what was the point of caring? she'd be nothing after this year anyways. she was already becoming nothing.

max had already arrived in qatar. and much to his displeasure, jos had decided to join him.
max's mind was a battlefield of emotions. that aching feeling in his heart that continued to tell him that his love for camila wouldn't go, watching her spiral and shut out the world just made the pain of not being around her anymore only grow even more. yet max also had that annyoing voice in his head. 'you're winning, isn't this what you want? camila doesn't care'

max wanted this championship. desperately — and he was finally about to do it. after what he had said to lewis, the way he spoke about camila, causing that rift between the two mercedes drivers, it managed to help him secure that win he needed in mexico. max had expected it to feel rewarding, he had gotten mercedes out of sight, letting him win, but it felt the complete opposite of rewarding.

max felt dirty. he felt bitter. he felt like his father.
and he regretted it.

max wanted to take back everything he'd said to lewis. it made his head ache, his thoughts couldn't escape, the regret couldn't be washed away. max couldn't forget that burning feeling in his hands as he raised that trophy in mexico. because he knew he didn't deserve it.

today was wednesday, and camila had just landed in qatar, preparing for the weekend, trudging across the hotel floors to find her room.

the team remained blissfully unaware that camila knew they were discussing george to be her replacement. camila debated telling them, she debated telling the team they were stupid for letting her go, and that they were stupid for thinking she'd never find out, but camila settled on staying quiet, because she knew that her results each weekend would speak much larger volumes. she couldn't forget the look on toto's face after her win in brazil from the back of the grid, the way his jaw clenched and his brows furrowed as he ever so painfully congratulated her on the win — that was far more rewarding than any hostile confrontation she could do.

before camila could settle in her room, her phone rang, meg's name illuminating the screen. with an eye-roll, camila answered the phone.

"there's an afterparty this weekend, just wanted to call to let you know that you cannot go" meg warned, camila's brows scrunching up in confusion; "why?" camila questioned, earning a deep sigh from meg on the other side of the phone.