Forever and Always | Max Verstappen *ੈ✩‧₊˚

Epilogue 2 - Little Family

I was curled up on the couch, my legs tucked under me, staring blankly at the TV.

The Notebook was playing, but I wasn't really watching.

I mean, I was watching—teary-eyed and sniffling at the heartbreak on screen—but my mind was miles away.

The sound of the door opening snapped me out of it, and I looked up to see Max walking in, looking like the day had wrung him out.

His hair was messy, and his shoulders slumped as he dropped his bag by the door.

"Hey," he said, he kicked off his shoes.

"Hey," I replied, trying to sound normal, casual.

He walked over and sank onto the couch next to me, letting out a long exhale like he'd been holding his breath all day.

"You wouldn't believe the day I've had," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I swear, some people forget how to drive the second it rains."

I nodded, trying to focus on him instead of the chaos swirling in my head.

"Sounds like a nightmare," I said softly.

He leaned back, reaching over to pull my feet onto his lap.

His hands were warm as they started absentmindedly playing with my toes.

It was such a Max thing to do, like he didn't even realize he was doing it.

"What are you watching?" he asked, glancing at the TV. His brow furrowed. "Wait, is this The Notebook? Again?"

"Yeah," I said, even softer.

He gave me a look, "Babe, you know this movie just wrecks you every time. Why do you do this to yourself?"

I shrugged, wiping at my cheeks. "It's good for the soul," I mumbled, which wasn't entirely true.

He shook his head and reached over to grab the box of tissues on the side table.

"Here, you're going to need these," he said, handing them to me with a small smile.

I reached for the tissues, but his hand lingered near the table.

His gaze had shifted, his brows pulling together as he noticed something next to the box.

"What's this?" he asked, picking up a smaller box I'd tried to forget was there.

I froze, my stomach flipping.

My breath caught as he opened it, his fingers steady but curious.

The little plastic stick inside seemed to scream at both of us, louder than the TV, louder than the pounding of my heart.

Max stared at it, his face unreadable as he processed what he was holding.