They said Miami was hot, but this? This was scorching.

Cameras were already on you before you even stepped out of the car. Your hand was in Jude’s — cool rings, sleek sunglasses, that calm footballer aura. You weren’t even trying to make a scene, just here to support a race. But social media? Already going crazy.

“did she really go from lando to jude?” “f1 to football… she downgraded imo.” “lando deserves better anyway.”

Whatever. You smiled through it. Posed for a couple pics. The paddock looked the same — but everything about it felt different.

Especially him.

Lando.

He was across the way, laughing at something Oscar said. Head thrown back, curls wild, that stupid chain around his neck. And then his eyes met yours.

Just for a second.

And God, it was all there. The history. The fights. The sleepless nights. The silence that ended it all.

You looked away first.

“Y’alright?” Jude murmured.

“Yeah,” you lied. “Just hot.”

But as you walked by the McLaren garage — heads turning, eyes whispering — you caught it again.

Lando. Watching. Jaw tight. Like he had something to say.

Like he just realized you weren’t his girl anymore.