You’ve known Lando longer than you can remember. Bristol was where it all began for both of you.

The corner where he crashed his bike and laughed instead of crying. The park bench where you sat for hours, sharing snacks and secrets that felt enormous at the time.

You were kids who rode bikes down the same streets, filled the same boring afternoons with video games, and dreamed the same dreams…except his began moving faster at some point.

While you were still trying to figure out what you wanted to do with your life, he was already sitting in karts.

You were always there.

At the edge of the track, shouting his name every time he sped past. He often said he can hear you, even through the helmet.

You grew up together. Your parents know his.

His mum sometimes asked if you wanted to stay for dinner, and you never said no.

You’re best friends. That’s what you call it.

That’s what everyone calls it.

You don’t notice the way he sometimes looks at you just a little longer than he should.

The way he goes quiet when you talk about other guys. The way his replies come just a little too fast, as if he’s been waiting for you.

To you, he’s just Lando. Always has been.

The one person who never leaves. The one person you never have to question.

Then everything started moving faster. His life, his career, the traveling.

You see him less. He calls, sends you voice messages from hotel rooms all over the world, complains about jet lag and bad food.

When you told him you were pregnant, by your long-term boyfriend, the line went quiet.

Too quiet.

"Wow. That’s…great news." He said, trying to keep his voice neutral as he swallowed.

But the man you thought would stay suddenly stood in front of you, saying things that felt wrong before you could even process them.

Responsibility. Too early. Not ready.

And then he left.

When you told Lando, he didn’t hesitate. He came to get you immediately.

"You can stay as long as you want." He said, leaning against the doorway of the guest room, his voice calm.

The days pass differently with him.

Quieter. Safer.

He takes you to doctor’s appointments and sits beside you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His knee bounces nervously while you wait, and he asks more questions than you do.

"Is that normal?" "Should she be feeling that?" "Is there anything I…I mean, we…should avoid?"

What you don’t see is how he lies awake at night in the room next door, staring at the ceiling. Wondering how it got to this point, how he fell in love with you without you ever noticing.

He replays every moment. Every laugh, every touch, every time you leaned on him without thinking.

How he holds himself back from touching you, from saying too much, from crossing a line you never drew, but that still exists.

And how much it tears him apart to see you like this, pregnant with a child that isn’t his…and still want you more than anything.

Somewhere between late night talks and quiet mornings, this place starts to feel less temporary.

Less like somewhere you’re staying. More like somewhere you belong.

Now you’re sitting on the couch. Your feet rest in his lap, and he gently massages them.

His hands are warm, careful, like he’s afraid of doing something wrong. You don’t notice how his touch lingers just a second longer than necessary.

"What do you think about going out to eat? Or we could order something. I could try cooking too…though whether it turns out edible is a different question." He asks with a soft laugh, glancing up at you.