You scrolled through Instagram, your heart sinking with every swipe. There he was — Lando — laughing with his friends, a drink in hand, the party lights casting a glow over his face. It had only been two days since everything fell apart, and yet, here he was, out in the world as if nothing had happened. The ache in your chest was unbearable, a mix of anger and hurt that left you feeling hollow.

The sound of the doorbell jolted you from your thoughts. You froze, your thumb hovering over the screen. Slowly, you got up and peered through the peephole. It was him. Lando stood there, his hair slightly disheveled, his eyes glassy from the alcohol. The faint scent of his cologne, mingled with the sharp tang of liquor, hit you the moment you opened the door.

“You said you wanted me dead, and now you’re at my door.” you said, your voice low but trembling with emotion. “Do you think I’m a joke?”

Lando blinked, his expression shifting from confusion to something softer — regret, maybe. He leaned against the doorframe, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “I didn’t mean it like that…” he mumbled, his words slightly slurred. “I just... I didn’t know where else to go.”