Portugal, midsummer. The villa was tucked away in a quiet part of the coast, all white walls, stone steps, and balconies covered in string lights. The kind of place that looked like peace but held secrets — and tonight, tension was hanging in the air.

It was a group trip. Off-season fun. Friends from the grid, mutuals from Monaco, and a few familiar faces Lando had known since his rookie days. Including you — the girl he used to only see at Max’s parties or random yacht things. You, who always felt just out of reach, fluent in four languages and somehow always glowing even with no makeup on. You, who never posted more than twice a year but he always noticed anyway.

There was a bit of an age gap, yeah. He was 26 now, you barely 21 — but you were never the kind of girl who felt young. You walked into rooms like you’d already been there before, said things that stuck in his head days later. Lando had met girls prettier, louder, cooler. But none that made him want to stay like you did.

After his last breakup, you came back into his life like a slow burn. Texts turned into calls. Calls into late-night games. Then sleepovers. You weren’t just his escape anymore — you were the one thing that made him feel something real again.

And then tonight happened.

The club was packed, lights flashing red and violet. You’d been laughing, drink in hand, dancing with your friends — until your eyes caught him. The guy you’d been talking about since they landed. The one you swore might be something.

He was already in the crowd. Already with someone else.

Lando watched your face fall. Watched you fake a smile. Watched you try not to care.

And then he moved. Pulled you toward the dancefloor, his hand catching yours like muscle memory. Made you laugh. Distract. Dance.

Until you disappeared.

Now the villa was silent except for the sound of his footsteps up the stairs.

Your bedroom door was cracked open. Light off, moonlight spilling through the glass balcony doors. You were curled on the bed in his hoodie, face buried in a pillow, scrolling your phone like it could undo what you saw.

He pushed the door open fully.

“You always did like the wrong guys,” he said, voice low, barely a tease.