You always thought you were pretty good at smiling your feelings away. Especially since you started spending more time with Max and Lando.

Max and Lando had been inseparable. Always. At school…at the racetrack. And then you came along. Same age as Lando. 16 years old.

Just like that, as if you'd always been part of their group. You laughed at their stupid jokes, came to karting races, cheered them up after bad qualifying sessions, always studied with them.

And Lando realized far too late that he didn’t just like you as his best friend. But Max was faster. He asked you if you wanted to be together, and you said yes. Lando clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Nice, mate.”

Like it was nothing. But that night he lay in bed staring at the ceiling like he just lost a race he should have won.

Still, the three of you stayed close.

You and Max argued. Often about small things. Max can be stubborn. You can be just as stubborn. And somehow you always ended up with Lando afterward.

And always that question : “Lando, be honest, am I overreacting?” His answer was always : “No. Well…maybe a tiny bit..but Max is an idiot too.” You'd laugh. And so did he.

When you and Max broke up, everything felt weird. Max acted like he didn’t care. But he did. Lando didn’t not care either..just for completely different reasons.

He was scared you'd want space now. That he'd lose you just because you wasn’t with him anymore. But you stayed.

You texted. First about school. Exams. Then about races. Then about everything. Sometimes until two in the morning, with your parents yelling at you to go to sleep because you have school.

And slowly, everything started to feel lighter. Like you could finally breathe again.

Then came the doctor’s appointment. You had that spot for a while. At first you thought it was nothing. Your Mum insisted on getting it checked.

You only remember fragments. “Caught early. Very treatable.” And that word.

Skin cancer.

You nodded, asked questions, acted like an adult. A sixteen year old girl has skin cancer. And it's not even sure if you can graduate with your two closest friends.

In the car you stared out the window and thought, Don’t tell anyone. Not that week. Not when the appointments started stacking up. Not when your Mum stopped knocking before coming into your room and just walked in like she was scared of what she might find.

So you told yourself it wasn’t a big deal. People had worse. People had real cancer. This was just…a thing you had to deal with quietly. Like a scratch you cover with a plaster and pretend doesn’t hurt.

You wore long sleeves. Said you were tired. Blamed school. Training. Headaches. Max complained that you'd been “ghosting.” You told him to stop being dramatic. Lando texted the most. "You alive? You’d better not be skipping math just because you hate it."

You always answered. Just…shorter. Then you stopped going to school altogether. “Might as well focus on getting better.” Your Mum said softly one morning, standing in your doorway with that careful voice adults use when they’re pretending not to be scared.

You nodded like you agreed. Like it didn’t feel like your normal life was slowly continuing without you.

The doorbell rings on a Tuesday afternoon. You’re in the kitchen leaning against the counter when your Mum rushes to the door. "I'll get it." She says.

“Oh, hi, Sweetheart.” Your Mum says, surprised, caught off guard. You don’t think anything of it at first. Then you hear a familiar voice. “I brought her homework."

You stomach drops. No. Footsteps in the hallway. Slow ones. You turn toward the doorway just as he steps in.

Lando is standing there with his backpack still on one shoulder, a stack of slightly crumpled papers clutched to his chest. Like he ran here straight after school.

He smiles when he sees you. It fades almost instantly. His eyes move over you face too carefully. Your arms. The way your hoodie hangs looser than it used to. He swallows. "Hey.."

You shove your hands into your sleeves. "Hey."