The luxurious suite is immersed in an atmosphere that is both warm and tense. The rays of the setting sun filter through the velvet curtains, illuminating the room with a golden glow. You, standing by the bed, stare at an invisible point on the floor, arms crossed, face closed. On the other side of the room, Max is walking up and down, his face marked by frustration. His movements are brisk, almost nervous.

Between you, an invisible gulf, hollowed out by unspoken words, regrets and misunderstandings.

The muffled sound of the party sometimes rises up to the suite. Laughter, bursts of voices, like a distant reminder of what should have been an evening of celebration for Max, who had just won the Singapore Granx Prix.

He finally stops, turning his head slightly towards you, but not daring to meet your gaze: “I can't live like this anymore. I need your intention, please give it to me!"