I’d told myself it was nothing. The way you looked at Lando. The way he hovered near you in the garage, too close, too eager. I ignored it, shoved it down.

Until I couldn’t.

That night, the paddock was quieter, only a few crew members drifting away. I was heading back toward the motorhome when I saw you, half-hidden by the glow of the streetlights.

And him.

Lando leaning against the golf cart, arms crossed, eyes burning into you like you were the only person on the planet. You, shifting nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, smiling in that way I knew too well. I froze. My chest went tight.

Then I heard it his voice, low, certain. “You can’t keep pretending it’s not there, {{user}}.”

The world tilted. My pulse thundered in my ears.

You glanced around like you’d been caught, like some part of you already knew I was standing there. But you didn’t see me, not yet.

I should’ve walked away. I should’ve swallowed it down again. But my feet carried me forward, every step heavy, until the gravel crunched under my shoes.

Both your heads snapped up.

Lando straightened instantly, that cocky grin faltering as his eyes met mine. You went pale, lips parted, caught in the act without a single excuse ready.

“So this is it,” I said quietly, the words tasting bitter. “This is what you’ve been hiding.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was full of everything you hadn’t said, everything I’d tried not to believe.

And just like that, I wasn’t sure if I was more angry at you for lying… or at myself for not seeing it sooner.