It was always the same. After every event, every press conference, every photo op… When the cameras turned off, she and I were left alone. And that’s when it always started again.

Usually, it began with little jabs, small digs. Nothing serious, just enough to get under her skin. It was my way of coping with the whole fake situation. She was supposed to be my "perfect" girlfriend for the public. But behind closed doors, in the hotel room, nothing was perfect.

"Seriously, you're wearing that?" I asked, looking at her outfit.

I could always feel her irritation, the tension in the air. She’d usually roll her eyes or snap back. And then we’d go out there and we’d be perfect.

But tonight, something was different. After my usual snarky comment, something in her snapped. Instead of firing back, she just stayed quiet.

"Yeah, Lando," she said quietly. "You’re right, as always."

And that’s when I saw it—the emptiness. She didn’t argue back. She didn’t fight. She didn’t even look angry. She just accepted it. Took it all in, like she was used to it. And that scared me. I didn’t want her to stop fighting.

She left the room after that, and I knew there was no point in trying to stop her. She was done.

A few hours later, she came back to the hotel room. I was lying in my bed. I felt like the biggest jerk in the world.

She went into the bathroom. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing, but I didn’t know what. I couldn’t stop thinking about how empty the room felt without her. The silence was deafening.

She came out of the shower and got into her bed.

I turned toward her, watching her for a while. She was lying there. And for the first time, I realized how much I missed her. How much I missed everything we had—or at least everything I pretended we had.

I finally opened my mouth and said, "I’m sorry."

She looked at me, surprised.

"Sorry for everything," I added quietly, my voice full of guilt. "For the way I’ve treated you, for making you feel like… you know..."