{{user}} isn’t just some girl in a club. She’s {{user}}. The one who used to steal my hoodies and fall asleep in my car after races. The one who knew exactly how to calm me down before a big race and exactly how to drive me insane afterward. And now? Now she’s standing in front of me like a stranger, her lips painted red, her dress too tight, too unfamiliar.

“You’ve been watching me all night.” She says, her voice barely above the music.

“Hard not to.” I admit.

She smirks, but it’s not the kind that used to make my heart race. It’s something colder. “Would you hear me more if I whispered?”

I shake my head, but she leans in anyway, her breath warm against my ear. “You only listen when I make it easy for you.”

Her words hit harder than I expect. Maybe because she’s right. Maybe because I don’t want her to be.

I reach for her wrist, but she pulls away before I can touch her. “You don’t get to do that, Lando. Not anymore.”

It’s ridiculous how much that stings. “{{user}} -”

“Don’t.” Her voice is sharp now, cutting through the noise like a blade. “If you wanted to hear me, you would have listened before I had to scream.”

She turns, disappearing into the crowd, leaving me standing there with the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on my chest.