It all started when Carlos invited you for coffee, two weeks after he left you. The invitation came unexpectedly, a simple message. Sainz was never good at relationships. And now, with you in the picture, he had fallen into despair. His own ambition and drive were his greatest allies on the track, but when it came to you, they were his worst enemy. He sabotaged himself, pushing you away when all he needed was to hold on tighter.

You chose a small café in the corner of town, a neutral ground. The table between you felt like a barrier, but not enough to erase the history you shared. You spoke about work, the weather, about the mundane things you’d both been caught up in. But despite the light chatter, there was a massive, unspoken elephant in the room, its presence impossible to ignore. You kept your distance, cautious, guarded. He knew why — because the last time you saw him, it was still burning in your mind. The sudden departure. The unanswered questions. The feeling that he chose everything over you.

Finally, after a long silence, Carlos spoke. His voice, softer than you expected. “I’m swallowing my pride to say I’m sorry about that night… and I go back to December all the time. Freedom is nothing but missing you. Wishing I realized what I had when you were mine.”

You wanted to hate him, to be angry at him for the pain he caused, for leaving without so much as a goodbye. But the honesty in his voice, the way he held your gaze, he was giving you something he hadn’t given before: vulnerability.

His hand reached out, trembling as he placed it over yours. The simple act of reaching out, of exten ding an olive branch, told you more than any apology could.

“I’ve hurt you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper “and I’ll never forgive myself for that. But I need you to know that you were never just an option to me. I never stopped caring, not even for a second. But I was too afraid, too broken, to give you the love you deserved. And now, I don’t know how to fix it.”