The evening air was soft and still, a quiet hush falling over the countryside as dusk melted into night. Mia and Max sat on the porch of the old guest house, the warm glow from the lanterns casting long shadows across the wooden floorboards. The scent of lavender and fresh-cut grass drifted in from the fields, and the only sound was the occasional chirp of crickets in the distance.
They didn't speak much at first—just the comfort of presence, of shared silence. Inside, the fire crackled low in the stone hearth, and a half-empty bottle of sparking water rested on the table between them, untouched for the last hour. Mia leaned into Max's shoulder, drawing a deep breath, trying to ground herself in the moment's calm.
It was hard not to think about the storm brewing for the last few hours. Her ex, Nate, had been stirring up drama again—cryptic posts, whispered rumors, and the possibility of legal action. The lawyer had already drafted a cease and desist, warning Nate not to speak about her—or worse, about her and Max—on social media. It all felt surreal, like a part of her old life clawing its way into the new one she was trying to build.
Max's hand found hers, fingers lacing together in that easy, reassuring way he had. "You don't have to say anything," he said softly, reading the tension in her posture. "Just be here."
She nodded, eyes fixed on the horizon where the last streaks of pink and gold faded into deep blue. They wouldn't talk about lawyers, past relationships, or threats disguised as Instagram captions tonight. Tonight was about the quiet, peace, and remembering that there was something more substantial than the noise—something that felt like safety in a world that too often felt like chaos.
And for a while, as the stars blinked awake one by one above them, it was enough.
Back inside the guest house, the firelight danced gently against the walls, casting a golden shimmer that made everything feel softer and more intimate. The stillness between Mia and Max had shifted now—no longer heavy with the weight of outside worries but humming quietly with something warmer, unspoken but understood.
Mia walked ahead, her bare feet silent against the old wooden floor. She paused near the fireplace, lightly running her fingers along the mantel's edge as if tracing thoughts she didn't know how to say out loud. Max followed, his gaze steady, quiet admiration in every glance.
When she turned to face him, he was already close. There was a slowness in reaching for her, like he didn't want to rush the moment. His hand found her waist, and she stepped into his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Their kiss was unhurried, the kind that didn't need to prove anything. It was a conversation without words, a promise wrapped in tenderness. The tension that had followed Mia all day—weeks, really—seemed to melt away as Max's lips brushed against hers, soft and deliberate.
They moved together like they'd done this a hundred times before, yet it still felt new. The way his hands slid up her back, the way she whispered his name against his neck—it all unfolded with a kind of quiet urgency. Clothes fell away without drama or haste, just a shared understanding of what they needed tonight: each other. Not to forget everything, but to remember that they had this. That they were choosing this together.
The bed creaked gently under their weight, the linens cool against their skin, then quickly warmed by touch and closeness. Outside, the countryside was silent and vast, but in that room, in that moment, the world had narrowed down to two hearts beating in sync, to breath shared in the hush between kisses, to fingers tangled in sheets and hair and everything that made them feel real.
When the fire had burned low, and they finally lay wrapped around each other in the quiet, Mia let her head rest on Max's chest and whispered, "Thank you." For being here. For not asking for more than she could give. For holding her like she wasn't made of past wounds and complicated headlines.
Max kissed her head and whispered back, "Always."
Morning light crept slowly through the linen curtains, painting soft golden lines across the guest house bedroom. The fire had long since burned out, but the air under the covers was warm, wrapped in the heat of shared sleep and skin.
Mia stirred first, her body instinctively curling closer to Max's. He was still half-asleep, his arm draped over her waist, their legs tangled beneath the sheets. She smiled faintly, the kind of smile from waking up in the right place, next to the right person.
Her fingers lightly traced the line of his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing. Max shifted, a low sound in his throat, and tightened his hold on her. "Morning," he murmured, voice gravelly and slow, still thick with sleep.
"Hey," she whispered, her lips brushing his collarbone.
He barely opened his eyes, and the look he gave her made her heart flutter in that quiet, familiar way. It was all in his gaze—desire, affection, and that subtle smirk he got when he knew exactly what she was thinking.
Mia leaned in, her lips meeting his, soft at first, just a taste. But Max responded with more, deepening the kiss and pulling her closer. The pace picked up gradually, like a slow burn returning to life. His hands slid along her hips, under the sheets, finding the curves he already knew but wanted to rediscover anyway.
"Still thinking about last night?" she teased between kisses.
He chuckled against her skin, his mouth trailing down her neck. "Thinking about right now."
The sheets twisted around them as they moved, tangled in each other. The soft creaks of the bed were a quiet echo of the building heat. It wasn't rushed—it never was with them. Max touched her like he had all the time in the world, like every second mattered. And Mia gave herself over to the feeling, letting it wash away anything outside those four walls.
With Max's guidance, he tells Mia to turn on her side, and he positions himself between her legs. The hardness of Max cock made Mia shutter with desire.
He took his time rubbing his hard erection against her wet core, all while kissing her neck and caressing her hard nipples.
"Babe, I will be gentle this morning. I want to make love to you," says Max.
Max takes his stiff cock and slides it slowly inside Mia, the sensation of feeling fully with his hard cock makes her groan with need.
He took his time thrusting slowly in and out, all while he took her nipples between his fingers and twisted them softly.
The sounds of bodies bouncing against one another are all that can be heard as Max takes his time making love to Mia.
"Baby, you've soaked my cock with all your wetness and it feels so good" Max moans against Mia neck.
Mia, needing more, pushed her bottom against Max harder and moaned, "Harder."
Hearing these words, Max increases the thrusts, reaching down and lifting Mia's leg to make sure he hits her favorite spots.
"" want you to rub your clit as I fuck you baby" Max groans.
Mia starts rubbing her clit as her pussy clamps down on Max cock. Her climax is near, and she took her other hand and took her nipple and squeezed as hard as she could.
This action took Mia over the edge and her body tensed as she let go and came all over Max cock.
Feeling Mia's release, Max grabbed her hip and held her still as he pounded in and out. The moans coming from Max were loud, and he threw back his head and yelled, "Yes", as he filled Mia with all his seed.
Max lay his head against Mia's neck and pulled her against him. He held her like she was his everything, and they lay there listening to each other's heartbeat until both fell asleep again.
The second time Mia woke up that morning, the soft sound of birds outside and the steady rhythm of Max's breathing were beside her. The sunlight had grown brighter, casting a warm glow over the room, and the scent of pine and old wood hung in the air like a quiet reminder of where they were—far from the noise, far from the mess waiting back in the real world.
She stretched slowly, her body still tingling with the lingering warmth of their earlier closeness. Max stirred beside her, his arm instinctively pulling her back in as if he wasn't ready to let go of the moment yet.
"Mmm," he mumbled, eyes still closed. "You're not trying to sneak away, are you?"
Mia smiled, her cheek resting against his bare shoulder. "Not a chance."
He cracked one eye open and gave her a lazy grin. "Good. Because I was going to make you stay."
They lay like that for a while, tangled in each other, no urgency in their movements. It was the kind of peace neither of them had had in a while—that made time feel like it had slowed down just for them.
"Are you okay?" Max asked eventually, his fingers brushing back a strand of hair from her face.
She hesitated for half a second, then nodded. "I think so. For the first time in a long time… I feel okay."
There was no need to say Nate's name or talk about court documents or social media drama. All that felt like it belonged to another world that hadn't followed them here. At least, not yet.
Max kissed her forehead, gentle and grounding. "Whatever comes next, we'll handle it. Together."
She closed her eyes, breathing him in, the scent of sleep and skin and something that felt like safety.
"Yeah," she whispered. "Together sounds good."
Outside, the wind rustled through the trees. Inside, wrapped up in each other and the morning stillness, Mia and Max stayed in bed just a little longer because there would be time for rest. But for now, this was enough.
The days that followed were quiet and slow in the best way—the kind of time wrapped around Mia and Max like a thick, comforting blanket. They stayed tucked away in the guest house, hidden deep in the countryside where no one could reach them, and for the first time in what felt like forever, there was no pressure to be anything other than themselves.
Mia's phone stayed off, tucked in the drawer beside the bed, untouched. Social media could wait. So could the lawyers, the calls, the noise. Her body was in its seventh month of pregnancy, and it was starting to ask more of her—rest, calm, and stillness. And here, with Max, she could finally give it what it needed.
Most mornings started slow. Max would help her ease out of bed, one hand on her back, the other steadying himself with the cane he'd been using since the accident. Rehab wasn't easy—his leg still ached, especially in the cold—but here, without the rush of schedules and expectations, he could focus. Stretching by the fireplace, gentle walks down the gravel path outside, ice packs in the afternoon when it swelled. Mia kept him on track, gently bossy in the way he secretly loved, reminding him to rest, stretch, and not overdo it.
They cooked simple meals together—he chopped while she stirred, laughing over burned toast or spilled tea. Sometimes, Mia would fall asleep in the armchair near the fire, her hands resting over the soft curve of her belly, and Max would just watch her, quietly amazed. He never said it aloud, but seeing her like that—glowing, safe, carrying this new little life—felt sacred.
They read books, shared stories from their childhoods, and fell asleep tangled together while watching old movies on the laptop. The world outside could have been on fire, but in that little house, time stood still.
There was no drama, no headlines, no phone calls from publicists, and no texts from people who only wanted to know the worst parts of the story. Just the two of them, tucked away in their own world, were healing—his leg, her heart, and the space they were building between them for something new and real.
At night, when the wind rustled through the trees and the fire was low, they'd whisper—about baby names, where they might live when the baby came, and what kind of parents they wanted to be. There were moments of fear, sure, but more than that, there was hope. So much hope.
And maybe that was the most powerful thing of all: that in the middle of the chaos they'd left behind, they'd found this quiet corner of the world to breathe, to heal, and to begin again—together.
When Mia and Max finally returned from what they'd half-jokingly called their "hibernation hiatus," they did it quietly—no big posts, no dramatic announcement. Just a slow reentry into the world they'd intentionally left behind. But peace, it turned out, didn't last long.
It started with the pings. First, a few missed calls. Then dozens. Texts stacked up like bricks—friends, industry contacts, even people Mia hadn't heard from in years. When she checked her inbox, the subject lines told her everything she needed to know: "Did you see what Nate said?""Podcast drama.""Girl, check IG ASAP."
She didn't want to.
But she did.
Nate Foster—her ex, who couldn't seem to move on unless someone else was watching—had gone on a popular podcast and told his version of the story. With dramatic pauses and a wounded smile, he'd laid it all out like a soap opera monologue: how Mia had "emotionally checked out," how he'd "found things" that made it obvious she was "already halfway in with someone else." And then the kicker—"I found out she was seeing Max Knight, and now she's pregnant with his baby. That says a lot, doesn't it?"
The clip went viral within hours.
When Mia put her phone down, her heart thudded, more from frustration than shock. She looked at Max, who had just finished a stretch on his leg, sweat clinging to his T-shirt. His eyes locked on her like he already knew.
"It's out, huh?" he asked quietly.
She nodded. "He said I cheated. Told the whole world the baby's yours like it's some scandal."
Max didn't flinch. He grabbed a towel, wiped his face, and approached her. "And the baby is mine. That's not a scandal. That's our life. What's scandalous is him thinking he gets to rewrite history just because a mic was on."
Mia exhaled, sinking into the couch. "I didn't cheat," she said, more to herself than to him.
"I know," Max said, settling next to her. "We know. Anyone who matters knows."
Still, the fallout hit fast. Social media is flooded with hot takes, memes, think pieces, and gossip threads. Fans took sides. Old interviews were dug up, and timelines were dissected. Every photo of Mia and Max from the past year was suddenly evidence for or against something that had never even happened.
Their phones wouldn't stop ringing. Publicists wanted statements, friends wanted details, and the press wanted a reaction.
But inside their home, things stayed calm. Mia stood in the middle of the storm, hand resting protectively over her belly, and realized she didn't owe the world a damn thing. Not this time.
She turned to Max. "I don't want to hide from him anymore."
"Then we don't," he said, reaching for her hand. "We get your side of the store out and let public opinion take over."
And so they did.
While the world obsessed over a story full of holes, Mia and Max stayed focused on setting up a way for Mia to get her side of the story out to all to know: using the same kind of platform Nate had used. Let Nate have his podcast moments and desperate soundbites—Mia was done hiding from the truth.