It was November, past midnight, when I heard a knock on my door. I opened it to find her, {{user}} standing there, shivering. We hadn’t been close in years, not since I started racing and things changed between us. She had been my best friend all my life, then I had to pull away from her, when I realized I love her deeply. When she used to ask why, I’d brush her off, and one day, she stopped asking. These days, whenever we did cross paths, we only argued, both of us stinging from some unspoken hurt.

“I went to take out the trash and locked myself out. It’s freezing. Can I use your balcony?” She asked clearly uncomfortable. I crossed my arms, letting the silence hang heavy.

“No.” I said coldly. It hurt to remember when we’d run across our two balconies without care, always finding an excuse to be together.

“Cmon Lando, please.” Her voice barely above a whisper. Her pride was clear; asking for help was the last thing she wanted, but she was desperate. Finally, I gave a short nod, I let her in. She walked quietly behind me until we reached my room. It’d been a decade since she was here.

Her gaze swept over the room, lingering on the trophies, the pictures, the medals that filled the walls. She slowed her steps, her lips parting in a small, involuntary smile. I saw her expression soften, her eyes taking in each reminder of the life I’d built. And just for a second, I swore she looked proud. I swallowed hard, my eyes welling up, I looked away and regained my composure, trying to keep the memories in check.

“Hurry up.” I said coldly, pushing open the balcony door. She snapped back to the present, she climbed over the low wall dividing our rooms and stepped onto her balcony. Before going inside, she looked back.

“Thank you, Lando.” She murmured. I noticed her eyes were wet, like she was replaying our lives before we stopped sharing them. I met her gaze, hiding the flicker of my unspoken feelings.

“Next time don’t forget your keys.” I said coldly, but instead, I wished I could have said the truth.