The rain taps softly against the window as I step out of the cab, clutching the small bouquet tighter than I probably should. White peonies - her favorite. I’d spent the last two hours making sure they were perfect. No browning edges, no wilting petals. Just soft, full blooms, like the ones she kept in that old photo on her phone from when she was a kid.

My suitcase wheels make a soft click on the pavement as I drag it behind me, heart hammering harder than it probably should for a guy who’s done press conferences in front of thousands. But this - this feels different. This matters more.

{{user}} doesn’t know I’m coming. As far as she’s aware, I’m still in Monaco, knee-deep in sim training and calls with engineers. I was supposed to fly in next week, once the chaos of her project submissions was over. But the way her voice trembled on the phone last night, the way she laughed but didn’t mean it - it stuck with me.

She’s buried in studio work again. Architecture eats people alive, she once told me during a 3 a.m. call, her voice thin with exhaustion. I remember sitting in a hotel room in Japan, helpless and half a world away, wishing I could do more than say “You’ve got this.”

So I moved a few things. Shifted a few meetings. Booked the first flight out.

I climb the stairs two at a time, my heart catching when I reach her door. There’s a soft light coming from the crack underneath - she’s still awake. Probably hunched over her laptop, sketching out something brilliant and worrying it’s not enough.

I knock once, then again.

The pause is long enough to make me doubt myself, but then the lock clicks.

She opens the door slowly, and when she sees me, her eyes go wide.

“Lando?” She breathes, voice thick with disbelief.

“Hi, love.”

Her arms are around me before I finish speaking, the flowers getting crushed a little between us. She smells like shampoo and coffee and faint stress. Her cheek presses to my chest like she’s making sure I’m real.

“I thought - next week - what are you doing here?”

I pull back just enough to see her face, then hold out the flowers. “Surprise.”

She takes them with trembling hands. “You’re insane,” she whispers, grinning now, tears already welling up.

I kiss her temple, then reach into my jacket pocket. My fingers find the small velvet box.

“Also brought you this.”

She looks up sharply. “Lando..”

“Not that kind of ring,” I say quickly, laughing nervously. “Not yet. Just..something for luck. For your projects. But also..a promise.”

She stares at it when I open the box - a simple gold band, thin, elegant, with a tiny engraving inside: I believe in you.

“You’re going to crush it,” I whisper. “And I wanted you to have something that reminds you I’m always in your corner. Even when I’m not physically here.”

She blinks fast. “You’re going to make me cry, you idiot.”

“Already winning, then.”

She throws her arms around me again, tighter this time. And as I hold her, I know I’ve never felt closer to her - even in all the miles that stretch between us most days.