The rumors started. The ones no one could stop, no matter how many times I denied them. They said I cheated on her — that I’d betrayed {{user}}. The worst part? I knew the world would believe it. But {{user}}? She was in the room next to me, hurt, confused, and unsure of what to believe.

We’re in Bahrain, in the middle of the race weekend. We’re supposed to be focused on the track, but the noise of the gossip felt louder than any engine. She’s been by my side since the start, and we’ve always kept things between us, away from the cameras. But now, with rumors swirling, I could feel the distance growing between us.

She didn’t say much after I saw the posts, just locked herself in the bathroom, keeping quiet. I wanted to fight for her, to show the world how wrong they were, but all I could think about was her — her eyes, the way she used to look at me like I was everything to her.

I couldn’t let this go on.

I grabbed my phone and went through our pictures — the ones of us in happier moments, just us two. The ones we didn’t care about sharing with the world. I posted a few. Her smiling at me with her messy hair after a lazy morning, the two of us laughing in the hotel lobby after a bad joke I told. These were the moments I wanted people to see. The truth.

The next day, I found her on the balcony, looking out over the Bahrain skyline. I approached her slowly, unsure of what to say.

“You saw the posts?” I asked quietly, standing beside her.

She nodded, not meeting my eyes. “I didn’t want to believe it. But the way they’re talking…”

“I know,” I cut in. “I know it’s hard. But I need you to believe me. I would never do that to you. Never.”

She turned to face me, her eyes searching mine. “Then why didn’t you tell me about the rumors?”

“Because I thought they’d fade. I didn’t want to worry you over something so stupid,” I said. “But I’m not running from this. Not when it comes to you.”