Wheels Colide

The summer sun beat down on the Spanish coastline as Y/N sat on the balcony of her apartment, gazing out at the endless blue of the Mediterranean Sea. The tranquil setting contrasted sharply with the turmoil she felt inside. It had been weeks since her last conversation with Max in Monaco, and though they had agreed to give their relationship a real chance, the weight of the decision still hung over her. Their careers were relentless, demanding every ounce of their time, energy, and focus. Yet here she was, contemplating how to carve out space for something as uncertain as love.

The MotoGP season was at its most intense, with the championship race tightening as it reached the final stretch. Y/N had fought her way to the top, surprising everyone—including herself—with her resilience and skill as a rookie. The media had taken to calling her the “Rising Star,” a title that brought as much pressure as it did pride. And while she was proud of her accomplishments, the success felt bittersweet, tainted by the growing distance between her and Max.

Despite their efforts, maintaining a relationship across two of the world’s most demanding sports had proven to be more difficult than either of them had anticipated. Their conversations had become less frequent, their text messages more hurried, and their rare video calls were often cut short by the demands of their schedules. Y/N found herself missing the easy, effortless connection they had shared in the beginning, back when they were both caught up in the excitement of something new. Now, everything felt strained, as if they were both holding on too tightly to something that was slipping away.

With a sigh, Y/N pushed herself up from the chair and walked back inside. The apartment was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos of the MotoGP paddock. She had come home for a brief break between races, a few days to rest and recharge before the next event. But the solitude only amplified the doubts that had been swirling in her mind.

As she moved through the apartment, her phone buzzed on the kitchen counter, and her heart leapt at the sight of Max’s name on the screen. A small smile tugged at her lips as she picked up the phone, quickly reading his message.

**Max:** *I miss you. Can we talk?*

The simplicity of his words made her chest tighten. She missed him too, more than she cared to admit. The idea of hearing his voice, of connecting with him even for a short time, was like a balm for her weary soul. She quickly typed a response.

**Y/N:** *I miss you too. I’m free now if you want to call.*

It didn’t take long for her phone to ring, and she answered it almost immediately, her heart pounding in anticipation.

“Hey,” Max’s voice came through the line, warm and familiar. It was amazing how just hearing him could make her feel more at ease, like the storm in her mind was finally beginning to calm.

“Hey,” she replied, settling onto the couch. “How are you?”

“Exhausted,” he admitted, and she could hear the fatigue in his voice. “It’s been a tough few weeks. The car’s been giving us trouble, and we’ve had a string of bad luck on top of it. I’m just trying to keep my head above water.”

“I know the feeling,” Y/N said softly, her heart aching for him. She knew all too well the pressure of trying to perform at the highest level when everything seemed to be going against you. “I’ve been following the races when I can. You’re doing everything you can out there, Max. It’s just… racing, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” he said with a sigh. “But it doesn’t make it any easier. And on top of everything, I feel like I’m failing you too. We barely talk anymore, and when we do, it’s rushed. I hate that this is happening.”

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat. “You’re not failing me, Max. We’re both just… trying to do our best in impossible situations. I don’t think either of us realized how hard this would be.”