You had just gone Instagram official with your boyfriend, Lando Norris.

It wasn’t some spontaneous post. It had been months in the making—soft launches, a few blurry tags, and finally, the moment of truth: a photo of you and Lando on the balcony of your Monaco apartment, arms around each other, grinning under the sunset. Caption: "My favorite view."

Almost instantly, the comments exploded.

“Wait… is this Lando Lando??” “Power couple alert 😍” “Omg you’re living the dream!”

You and Lando had been together for a while, quietly. He wasn’t secretive—just protective. But lately, he’d started hinting more and more that he wanted to show you off. “I’m proud of you,” he’d said one night, brushing a strand of hair from your face as you both lay tangled in bed, “I want people to know you're mine.”

And you were his. Completely. So when he suggested making it public, you didn’t hesitate.

Everything had felt perfect. The kind of relationship you didn’t think actually existed. You’d even moved to Monaco to be with him full time—something your friends joked was “so fairytale it hurts.”

But as the honeymoon glow of the post settled, something—someone—ruined it.

Jack.

You’d gone to school with him. He had always been there, orbiting around you like a satellite you never quite invited. Back then, he had a massive crush on you. Everyone knew it. You tried to be kind, even friendly, but his feelings were overwhelming—too much. He’d write you long messages, sometimes poems. Show up unexpectedly. It wasn’t scary, just… uncomfortable.

You thought distance and time would fix it. You graduated. Moved. Changed numbers. But he still found ways to reach out. Weekly texts. Voice notes. Sometimes pictures of old school memories with captions like "Remember this?" You responded out of guilt, rarely and vaguely. Once a month, if that.

Then came the post with Lando.

Your DMs? Flooded. Most were supportive, but buried among the well wishes were messages from people you hadn’t spoken to in years. Classmates. Random acquaintances. And more than a few from Jack’s friends—some anonymous accounts, too.

"Wow. Did Jack mean nothing to you?" "Cheating on him with a celebrity? Real classy." "You were leading him on this whole time."

One message just said: "You broke him."

You stared at your phone, stunned. Lando walked in, still drying his hair from the shower.

“You okay?” he asked, wrapping an arm around your waist from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder.

You hesitated. “Lando… do you remember me telling you about Jack? From school?”

He nodded, eyes narrowing slightly. “The one who kept messaging you? Yeah. Why?”