Forever and Always | Max Verstappen *ੈ✩‧₊˚

Selfish for a night

Present day

Emma
I'd been staying at the hotel for what felt like forever now.

I missed that home.

God, I never thought I'd say that, but I did.

There were still feelings there for Max—feelings I couldn't quite shake, no matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise.

I still wanted to be with him, deep down, but it just felt pointless.

Like we were always walking in circles, and he was hiding too much for me to even know where we stood.

Kika had been coming over occasionally, spending time with me, trying to keep me distracted.

I appreciated it, but even she couldn't fill the emptiness.

I'd been throwing myself into work, meetings, emails basically anything to keep my mind from wandering too much.

Tomorrow was Tuesday.

The day of my divorce.

Funny how life works, isn't it?

I don't even remember getting married, and now here I am, standing at the edge of something so final.

Divorce.

I sighed, leaning back in the chair after wrapping up a Zoom call with my team.

I rubbed my temples, exhaustion creeping in—not just from work, but from everything.

And then, a knock at the door.

I got up still rubbing the back of my neck trying to relieve it from all the strain.

I opened the door and then I froze.

Max.

He looked... destroyed.

His face was pale, drawn, and there were dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes.

Like he hadn't slept in days maybe even cried.

"Max," I said softly.

"Can I come in?" His voice was low.

"Yeah, yeah, of course," I said, stepping back to let him in.

He walked in, his movements were slow and deliberate, like even being here was taking everything out of him.

Silence settled over the room like a suffocating blanket.

"Can I get you anything?" I asked, breaking the quiet, "Water? Coffee? Kika actually just got some from this cafe downstairs. It's really nice."

"Water's fine," he murmured, not looking at me.

I nodded and turned toward the table where the hotel's bottled water was neatly arranged.

As I grabbed one and began pouring it into a glass.

I kept my back to him.

The room felt too small. I could feel him, standing there, pulling at something deep inside me.

"What are you..." My voice faltered, the question stuck in my throat. I tried again, forcing the words out. "What are you doing here?"

There was a pause. A long, weighty pause, like he was searching for the right words and coming up empty.

"I don't know," he finally said.

I closed my eyes for a moment, gripping the bottle tightly to steady myself before pouring the water.