“You want to watch Carlos again?” Mr. Nanami’s voice was calm, too calm—his usual stoic tone that made it hard to tell if he was annoyed or just... existing.

You nodded, lips slightly parted, eyes hopeful. “There’s a race this weekend. Singapore. I already talked to Dad, and the passes are set. VIP again,” you said.

Nanami didn’t look up from the papers in his hand. “You’ve seen enough of him,” he said flatly.

You frowned. “It’s racing, not a date. I’ve always watched him. Even before this marriage.”

“I’m aware,” he replied, setting the papers down. His gaze met yours, sharp and unreadable. “You used to talk about him a lot.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the subtle hint of something in his voice—jealousy? “I still like F1,” you said softly. “It’s not about Carlos. I just want to watch the race.”

There was a long pause before he finally exhaled through his nose, like he was trying to stay patient. “Fine,” he said. “You can go.”

Relief washed over you—until he added, “But only if I come with you.”

Your shoulders dropped. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” he said. “That’s my only condition.”

You stared at him. “Are you jealous of Carlos Sainz?”

“He’s my age,” Nanami said simply, walking toward you. “And before you were mine, you were his biggest fan. Do I like that? No.”

“You don’t have to come,” you said quietly. “I can go alone. I’ve done it before.”

“I’m not letting you be alone around him,” he said, cutting you off. “Especially not when you look at him the way you used to.”

You narrowed your eyes. “And how exactly did I look at him?”

“Like he was everything,” he said simply. “I don’t want to see that again.”

You swallowed, looking away. “Then... I guess you’re coming with me.”

Nanami stepped closer, and his voice dropped, quieter. “Next time, if you want to watch a man that closely, let it be me.” Your heart stuttered at his words. He was cold, but never cruel. Stoic, but not unfeeling. And sometimes, like now, he said just enough to mess with your head—and maybe, just maybe, your heart too.