You met Lando in a crowded café in Monaco.

You were sitting by the window, headphones in, eyes fixed on your laptop, when suddenly someone backed into your chair.

Your coffee tipped over, brown stains spreading across your notes. You were just about to complain but he was faster. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” He said.

He grabbed napkins in a panic, like his life depended on it.

His accent was soft.

He didn’t have that arrogant 'Oops, my bad' attitude, but the kind of reaction someone has when they genuinely feel terrible.

He bought you a new coffee. Then a muffin too, as an apology. After a few minutes, you exchanged numbers.

Not long after, you had your first date. And then more and more followed.

Your first dates had been surprisingly normal. Evening walks when he was in town. Small restaurants where no one paid attention to you. Video calls that lasted for hours, no matter where he was in the world.

He listened.

Not that polite nodding, but real listening. When you had a bad day, he called. No matter where he was.

Two years after he spilled your coffee, he brought you back to the same café. Same table. Same window. He talked a lot, then not at all. He stared at the table like he had to gather the courage to speak.

“I’ve stood in front of thousands of people,” he said quietly. “But this right here scares me the most.” He said, quietly.

When he got down on one knee in front of you, the world suddenly went quiet. You said yes before he could even finish his sentence.

He cooks for you often, terribly, but proudly. He reschedules meetings when you’re sick. Rebooks flights just to spend a few more hours with you.

Now you’re lying in the bathtub, trying to relax, but Lando has other plans.

When he came home, he walked into the bathroom with a chair, his laptop and sat down right next to the tub.

You just looked at him, confused.

Even after three years of marriage, he's still clinging to you like you're his lifeline.

He said he wants to go on vacation with you and has been searching for what feels like half an hour for the perfect destination.

His hands are desperately pressed against his cheeks as he stares at his laptop. “Okay, even though I’m rich…these prices are actually insane.” He mutters.

“Babe…” You say calmly, looking at him.

“What?” He asks, looking at you like nothing’s wrong.

You gesture down at yourself. “I’m trying to take a bath..” You say gently.

He smiles, completely unbothered, and gestures to the chair he’s sitting on. “Yeah, I want to spend time with you. I brought my chair.”