Calculated Risk ┃MV1

A few years later...

The fire crackled quietly in the background, casting a warm orange glow across the wooden walls of the cabin. Snow blanketed the world outside, untouched and glistening under the fading sun. It was quiet here — quiet in a way neither of them had experienced all year.

Max had chosen the cabin after the final race. He said they deserved a place where no one could reach them. No press. No paddock. No questions. Just the two of them. Gen didn't argue. She had packed three novels, her favorite thick scarf, and the kind of peace she didn't realize she'd been craving until the silence wrapped around her like a second skin.

They sat curled together on the porch that evening, wrapped in one of his oversized hoodies and sharing a heavy blanket. The steam from their mugs rose between them, curling like fog in the cold air. Gen had just finished reading aloud the last few lines of a story they'd passed back and forth during the trip, her voice quiet and a little sleepy.

Max nudged her knee with his.

"Y'know," he started, like it was nothing, like he wasn't about to completely unravel her, "when I propose someday..."

She stilled. Her hands went stiff around her mug.

"I'm sorry—" she blinked at him, "when you what?"

Max turned, utterly relaxed, his lips twitching at her expression. "When I propose someday," he repeated. "Not if. Big difference."

She narrowed her eyes. "That's an awfully confident assumption, Verstappen."

"I'm a five-time world champion," he said with a shrug. "I've survived the season, Christian, and the entire grid teasing me for being love-struck. I like my odds."

Gen tried to look unimpressed, but her cheeks had gone red — not from the cold. "You don't scare easy, huh?"

"You do. But I like that about you."

There was a pause. The kind of silence that said everything they didn't need to speak aloud. She looked at him then — really looked at him — and realized she didn't even feel startled anymore. Just... moved.

"You always do things fast," she murmured.

"You always keep me from crashing," he said.

She rested her head against his shoulder and let the snow keep falling. Max pressed a kiss to her temple, and they let the quiet speak for a while longer.

A week later, Gen was folding sweaters, grumbling about Max being too quiet, too still — always suspicious behavior. He was lounging by the window, scrolling through his phone, acting like he hadn't just asked her to go to the shed for more firewood.

When she walked back into the cabin, she froze.

The lights were dimmed. Dozens of lanterns had been placed around the room, casting soft, starlike shadows along the walls. Her books were stacked on the floor in cozy clusters. Pages she loved most had been bookmarked. Her playlist was softly playing in the background.

And there he was. Max. In the middle of it all. Holding a small box.

Her heart nearly stopped.

"I thought you said someday," she breathed.

He smiled. "It's someday."

She didn't know how she got to him so fast — only that she was suddenly in his arms, and her hands were trembling, and his voice was lower, gentler than she'd ever heard it before.

"I didn't want to do this after a race, or on a podium, or in front of the world. I wanted it here. Just us. Where it all finally slowed down. You've seen every version of me, Gen. The reckless kid, the champion, the idiot who said the wrong thing during press week..."

She laughed through a tear. "Still have those quotes saved."

"But through it all," he whispered, "you were there. Constant. Quietly brilliant. Fierce. You gave me a home in the middle of chaos."

She couldn't speak. Could only nod as he opened the box.

The ring wasn't flashy. Just simple silver, with a single sapphire — the color of the sky that night they sat on the porch, dreaming of a future that didn't feel so impossible anymore.

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes," she whispered. Her voice was unsteady. "Yes. Of course, yes."

Later that night, curled together on the couch beneath three blankets and a roaring fire, Gen held out her hand and twisted her fingers in the low light, watching how the stone caught it.

"You think Christian's going to scream?" she murmured.

"He's going to try to act shocked," Max said into her neck, "but he's secretly proud. I'm convinced he's been rooting for me since day one."

She tilted her head to grin at him. "You mean since you accidentally insulted my coffee-making skills and called me 'Miss Horner' at the factory?"

Max groaned. "Why do you remember everything?"

She kissed his jaw. "Because every moment with you is unforgettable."

They went quiet again. The fire hummed. Her thumb rubbed over his. Their legs tangled together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Max reached for her phone, opening a meme that Lando had sent earlier — something about "Max Verstappen's real trophy this year."

They both laughed, and as she scrolled, Max's voice cut through, warm and lazy.

Gen looked up at him, and in his eyes, she saw it — the future. Loud. Beautiful. Theirs.