It’s 7 a.m. The air is cool, clear, almost too still. The sun is just starting to climb and golden light spills across the small terrace where you sit.

A table. Two chairs.

But only you are here.

You pull your jacket tighter around yourself, not because of the cold, you barely feel it. It’s something else that’s frozen.

Something deeper. Something the weather can’t touch.

Monaco lies before you.

Quiet. Majestic.

It looks like a painting. It’s beautiful. And yet, something’s missing.

Or rather someone.

Your husband, a well-known DJ, friend of Martin and Lando, is at some show. Amsterdam, if you remember right.

You tapped through his Instagram story earlier.

Some lights, a quick selfie and him facing the crowd.

He didn’t send it to you and you didn’t ask.

You two only exchanged a brief message this morning. Just a “good morning" and from him a flat, “Hey.”

You wonder if he even knows where you are right now.

Or if he even cares.

You’re still wearing your ring.

Silver. Simple. A quiet promise that was once shouted aloud.

You turn it between your fingers, without thinking. Like rubbing an old scar.

Maybe Lando was right, when he said, “You deserve better, {{user}}. You’re just lying to yourself.”

Maybe you are.

Maybe it’s already over..not with a bang, but in all the small moments where neither of you really heard each other anymore.

He often forget to wear his ring. At first, it didn’t bother you, but later, you tried not to notice.

Now…it just hurts.

Quietly.

You remember him at 23, the way he looked at you like you were better than any show he’d ever played. Like you were something he never wanted to lose. The way he made plans with you for a summer that was never supposed to end.

But this, you, alone, on a mountain with a view too big for a love that’s fallen apart..doesn’t feel like “you two” anymore.

You can’t survive another year of “we’re okay.” Not another year of walking beside each other like strangers. Not another year filled with silences too heavy to break, both of you afraid to say the one word that lingers between you.

Your phone lays silent on the table.

No message.

No “I miss you.”

And even if it came, you know it wouldn’t change anything.

You hear Lando’s voice again, from two days ago.

“Why are you still with him?” He’d asked softly, when the two of you were sitting in his apartment, both in sweatpants, surrounded by empty pizza boxes.

You laughed and said, “Because he loves me.” But Lando just went quiet.

Because he knew. He knew you were only holding on because you didn’t know how to let go.

Lando’s been your best friend for years. He never lied to you, even when it hurt. He looked at you with that mix of annoyance and worry every time you cried over another broken promise. Another night spent waiting for someone who never showed.

And every time you tried to justify your husband’s behavior, it was Lando’s voice that echoed louder.

Firm. Familiar.

You’ve often wondered why he’s so sure. Why he speaks with such certainty.

But this morning, sitting here alone, you finally understand.

It was never truly love. Not the kind of love you deserved.

You take a deep breath. Then you take the ring off your finger.

Slowly. Not dramatically.

Just…free.

Maybe he’ll cry when he realizes. Maybe he’ll yell. Maybe he’ll scream you’re just like your parents and giving up easy.

But you know the truth.

He never took the last flight to see you. Never made the final effort.

And somewhere on this mountain, with a view stretching over a valley full of open possibilities, you feel it.

This is the moment you choose yourself again.

Not a happy ending. But maybe a real beginning.

You hesitate, then reach for your phone. Your thumb hovers over the first contact on your favorite list.

Lando

You tap Call and it starts ringing.

Once. Twice. Then he answers.

“Hey…what are you doing up so early? That’s not like you…” His voice is sleepy, but soft. Warm.