The Bull Prince | Max Verstappen

Chapter 43

You get that from your father, Sophie would often say, when he was about to trash something down in anger. 'Try and control yourself, Maxy, because you don't want to end up like him.' It was a warning, and his mother was so proud of the progress he made. For his family, his career, and himself.

He tried becoming more mature, calmer, and he tried to think before acting. There were times when he succeeded and those times felt as good as a place on the podium, if not better because he knew he was making his mother proud. Max became a better person not only, but also for her.

Standing in front of the sink and pouring himself a glass of water, his hands were trembling slightly, and his body shook as the first barely audible sobbing wanted to be heard. He was done. He could take no more.

"Oh, Max," Sophie whispered, as she pulled her only son into her arms, supporting him, while he let go of all his emotions. Resting his chin on his mum's shoulder, Max cried as if he was five years again in his mother's arms, but for the first time in his life, he didn't have to be afraid that his father would come in and call him weak fro letting go of his anger and frustration. 

"I miss her." He sobbed against his mother's shoulder, but it was alright. His mom held him tight, while she made sure he could let it all out. Freeing his soul in the process. 

Victoria stepped into the kitchen, only to see her brother crying in their mother's arms, giving him a soft smile, before joining the hug. 

"I'm going to kick her ass for doing this to you," Victoria told her brother after a few minutes, which caused Max to snicker before he hiccuped. 

"That's sweet of you, Vic, but Jo's a size too big for you," Max mumbled back, which caused his sister to raise an eyebrow. 

"She's so posh. What can she do? Tell me I used the wrong fork for the salad? Boo-hoo!" The younger Dutch replied, which caused her brother and mother to laugh but Max also made a mental note to make sure Joanna and Victoria wouldn't meet in Brasil. That could end in a disaster. 

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Joanna Lauda never thought that her own apartment could provide her with so much discomfort. It wasn't the things that were here, it was what was missing. Max's impact on her life, in her apartment, was gone. Like he was never a part of her life. 

Walking over to the tv, there sat the only thing which remained of Max. It's the frustration, the pain, the anger. It's all so numbing. The framed picture of them on the podium after his first win. Joanna took the picture in her hand, let her finger wander over the glass before she let it drop onto the floor. The glass shattered, but Joanna didn't even flinch. The Austrian simply stepped over the mess on the floor, a few shards of glass crunched under her boots.

Joanna doesn't run from her problems. She sat on her sofa, played on her phone, and ignored them like a fucking adult. Jules would have laughed at her for saying that. 

Letting her head roll to the left, Joanna looked directly at another framed picture. It was the first personal item she had put in her apartment after moving to Monaco. 

A picture of Daniel, who had thrown his arm over Jules's shoulder while forming his fingers to a peace sign, a big grin on his face. Jules, on the other hand, had his arm snuggly slung over her shoulder, back then Joanna was still a head shorter than them due to the age difference, which caused her to look up at Jules in annoyance, they always made fun of how little she was, while he casually posed for the picture. 

A sad smile formed on her lips as Jules from the picture looked right back at her. It was a younger and carefree version of himself. They all were nothing more than stupid kids back then.